Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

Mr. Updike, Mr. Dorfman and I had decided we would provide some cakes, tea and coffee in the lobby. Mother remained upstairs in her suite, but Jimmy, Philip and I accepted sympathies and spoke with people. Clara Sue was nowhere to be seen, and, in fact, we learned later that she hadn't returned to the hotel.
    Finally, hours later, Mother made one of her miraculous recoveries and came down to greet people, too. She was still wearing her rather stylish funeral dress. Condolences, expressions of sorrow, kisses on the cheek and the pressing of hands fed her need for attention well, and instead of growing fatigued as the day wore on, Mother gained strength. I heard her laugh once or twice and saw her beam her smile, especially at Bronson, who remained faithfully beside her the entire time.
    After nearly all those who were going to pay their respects had done so, Jimmy, Philip and I retreated to a table in the kitchen to have something to eat. Like most everyone at the hotel, Nussbaum had put his sorrow into work and had cooked and baked enough food for an army of mourners. Despite my emotional fatigue, I was starving.
    Mother retreated to her suite to have her dinner brought up to her as usual. No one spoke about it, but we knew she had invited Bronson Alcoa to dine with her.
    "Clara Sue's not coming back to the hotel," Philip told us when he sat down at the table, "which is probably a good thing."
    "What do you mean, Philip? Where is she?" I asked. "She sent word with one of her spoiled-brat friends that she was returning to Richmond," he said.
    "Back to school so soon? But—"
    "It's all right," Philip said. "I'm going to leave myself in the morning. There's no point in my remaining any longer," he continued, "and I can't miss my final exams."
    Jimmy and I glanced at each other quickly and then looked down at our food.
    "As far as Mother goes . . . she'll recuperate from her sorrow as rapidly as she sees fit. My presence won't change that. Of course," Philip continued, "if there are some business reasons why you think I should remain . . ."
    "No, no. Mr. Updike and Mr. Dorfman have things pretty much under control. We'll reopen the hotel for the weekend," I said. "It's better that everyone gets back to work."
    I hated to admit it, but Grandmother Cutler's philosophy was probably correct when it came to that. I was glad, however, that we had shown some respect for Randolph's memory by closing the hotel a little while.
    "Right," Philip said. "That's why I want to get back to the books myself." Philip played with his food for a moment and then gazed up at both of us. "I want to apologize again about the things Clara Sue said at the cemetery. She really has become a nuisance. I'll try to keep her from bothering everyone," he promised.
    Jimmy nodded. I wanted to say more, but I didn't. I wanted to say Clara Sue wasn't much different from the first time I had met her. She was self-centered and vicious then, too. She probably always would be. But I didn't want to add any more unpleasantness to an already disagreeable time. It was better to put it all to rest.
    Afterward, Jimmy and I went up to check on Christie and then retire for the evening. As we walked down the corridor we heard Mother's laughter coming from behind the closed doors of her suite.
    "Mother's already begun her spectacular recovery from sadness," I muttered. Jimmy nodded and smiled.
    Later, though, when we lay together in bed, I felt very sad, and I snuggled up inside his arm and rested my head on his shoulder. We could gaze out the window and up at the sky. The heavy overcast that had hovered above us all day, adding to the mood of depression and sorrow, now began to break up. We could see a star or two twinkling between the misty clouds.
    "I can't help remembering the day Momma died," Jimmy said. "I thought my heart had shrunk so small in my chest it wouldn't have the power to pump my blood, and I would just die from sadness."
    "I remember how you ran all the way home from the hospital," I said.
    "I just wanted to pound the earth with my feet, strike out at something, someone. I just can't imagine burying your father and going off with your friends like Clara Sue did. I don't even understand how Philip can return to college so fast and get back into things so quickly," he said. "This has never been much of a family, has it, Dawn?"
    "No, Jimmy."
    "You think something like this is going to happen to us if we stay here and bring up our kids in the hotel?" he