Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

white silk handkerchief and lowered her head. She knew how to turn her emotions on and off like a faucet. Clara Sue looked bored, as usual, and Philip kept glancing at me, an impish glint in his eyes and a flirtatious smile on his lips.
    Afterward, we proceeded the way Mother had described. The funeral procession followed the hearse up to the hotel where we all got out to listen to the minister say a few more words from the front steps of the hotel. The staff was gathered all around, everyone looking glum. I caught sight of Sissy in the background with her mother. She had come even though Grandmother Cutler had ruthlessly fired her. When she saw me, she smiled.
    We went on to the cemetery. The first thing I noticed when we drove in and walked to the Cutler section was that the tombstone Grandmother Cutler had put up with what was supposed to be my name was gone. Now it seemed more like some nightmare I had had.
    The minister read some psalms over the grave and then we were all asked to bow our heads while he offered the final prayer. I prayed that Grandmother Cutler, wherever she was, would finally realize the cruelty and harshness of her ways. I prayed she would repent and beg God to forgive her.
    Again, as if Grandmother Cutler commanded the weather, the skies began to clear and the sun dropped its rays around us. The ocean looked blue and alive again, and the terns that sounded a mournful cry in the morning now chatted gaily as they swooped down on the beaches searching for some plunder.
    Randolph was so confused with grief, he had to be led back to the car. Mother thanked the minister for his nice service and invited him to the hotel to join in what was supposed to be the mournful gathering.
    She had arranged for everything to be set up in the lobby. I thought all that was missing was live music. The staff were on duty just the way they would have been for any hotel affair. Waiters walked around with hors d'oeuvres and glasses of whiskey and wine. Tables of food were arranged at the far end. At mother's behest, Nussbaum had prepared all sorts of salads and meats, including Swedish meatballs, small frankfurters, and sliced turkeys. There were Jell-O molds with fruit and a separate table just for desserts.
    Just about everyone who had been at the church arrived. The small murmur of conversation that had begun when we first returned from the cemetery exploded into a loud roar of voices. Randolph tried standing beside my mother, Clara Sue and Philip at the front entrance to greet people, but he had to sit down after a while. He was given a glass of whiskey and sat there, still looking quite dazed and confused. Once in a while, he would focus his faraway eyes on me and smile.
    Before long, I heard my mother's peal of laughter and saw her escorting the men she obviously considered the most important around the room to the various tables of food and drink. I saw her every-where, and everywhere she was, she looked like a fashion plate, vibrant and beautiful and always surrounded by clusters of male admirers.
    Late in the afternoon, the mourners began to leave, most stopping by to shake Randolph's limp hand. Older people, especially the older women, tried to give him real comfort and some hugged him. It was only then that he looked like he knew what was happening and what had happened.
    Finally, when just a half dozen or so people remained behind, a tall, stout gray-haired man with a robust slightly tanned face and dark brown eyes approached Jimmy and me. His forehead had deep furrows and there were webs of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but despite his apparent age, he stood firm and had an air of authority about him that told me he must be Mr. Updike even before he had introduced himself.
    "I have contacted the people who thought they were adopting your baby," he said when he pulled us aside. "I have their address here," he indicated, handing me an envelope, "and they expect you to come by in a day or so. Naturally, they're very upset because we were all given to understand this was something you wanted to do."
    "I was never even asked, and I would never have agreed," I replied. He nodded and then shook his head.
    "It's a bad business, bad business. I'm conducting the reading of the wills in about a half hour in Mrs. Cutler's office," he added. "Be there."
    "What would Grandmother Cutler leave you?" Jimmy asked as soon as Mr. Updike walked away.
    "A pail and a mop," I replied. I really could think of nothing