Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

here."
    "I'll go up to see her then," I said and climbed the stairs, stopping to gaze first in the direction of where my room had been, where I had been kept like some poor relative, away from the family, alone. Why was it, I wondered, that the people who worked here, people like Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Boston, as well as Nussbaum, the chef, held Grandmother Cutler in such high regard? Couldn't they see how bitter and cruel she really was? Being efficient and successful was one thing, but what about being a compassionate human being?
    The outside door to my mother's suite was closed. I opened it slowly and entered the sitting room. It looked as untouched and unused as ever, the only change I noticed being that there was no music sheet opened on the spinet and the keyboard had been closed. The door to my mother's bedroom was partially open. I approached it slowly and knocked.
    "Yes?" I heard her say. I pushed the door open farther and entered.
    I had been expecting to find her lost in her king size bed as usual, her head sunk within two jumbo fluffy pillows. But instead, she was seated at her vanity table brushing out her long blond hair so that it rested softly over her shoulders and down her neck. It shone as brightly and richly as always. She turned her graceful neck and focused her innocent blue eyes on me. Never did she look so beautiful, I thought. Her complexion was plush peaches and cream and she looked positively radiant and happy.
    She was dressed in one of her pink silk nightgowns, but as always, in bed or not, she wore a pair of diamond earrings and wore her heart-shaped locket between her breasts. Her eyes brightened with surprise and a small smile formed on her lips.
    "Dawn," she cried. "I didn't know you were coming here today. I'm sure Randolph didn't know either, or he would have mentioned it."
    "I thought you were very, very, very sick again, Mother," I commented dryly as I crossed over to her.
    "Oh, I was, Dawn. Dreadfully sick this time. It was some . . . horrible new allergy, but thankfully, it's grown tired of tormenting me and has left my frail body," she said, sighing with relief and shaking out her luxurious blond tresses.
    "You don't look very frail to me, Mother," I said sharply. Her eyes narrowed and her smile evaporated.
    "You never did have any sympathy for me, Dawn. I suppose you never will, despite the terrible ordeals I have gone through," she complained.
    "Ordeals you have gone through? What about me? Do you know where I've been these past months, Mother? Do you? Did you once inquire after me to see if I were still alive or dead?" I demanded. "Well?"
    "You made your own bed to lie in, Dawn," she admonished. "Don't start looking for other people to blame, especially me. I won't stand for it. Not now, not anymore," she said and pulled herself into a stiffer posture. "You haven't heard, I suppose, but Grand-mother Cutler has unfortunately just passed away."
    "I know, Mother. Jimmy and I have just come from the hospital. We were there when she died," I said.
    "You were?" She looked astonished. "Jimmy, you say?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You mean that boy . . ."
    "Yes Mother, that boy. Thankfully, he arrived in time to rescue me from Grandmother Cutler's horrid sister Emily and that dreadful place."
    "Emily," she said, smirking. "I met her only once. She never liked me and I certainly never liked her. She was a horrid woman," she agreed.
    "Then how could you permit Grandmother Cutler to send me there?" I demanded, "especially, if you knew what Miss Emily was like?"
    "Really, Dawn, we didn't have all that much choice," she said with exasperation, "considering how you behaved." She sat back and looked me over for the first time. "Apparently, your problem is over and you don't look all that terrible for it. It is good to see you've gotten your figure back."
    "My problem is over? Mother, you don't know what torture I endured, how she treated me and worked me and tried to cause a miscarriage. She's a horrible, horrible person," I cried. My mother didn't even wince. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror again.
    "Well, all that is behind you now, Dawn. It's over and done with. Grandmother Cutler is gone too, so you can return to the hotel and . . ."
    "But Mother, you didn't even inquire about my baby. Don't you care?"
    "What's there to care about, Dawn?" She turned and looked at me again. "Really, what do you want me to ask?"
    "For starters, you could ask if my baby lived, if it