Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

sarcastic.
    "Good," she said.
    "He wanted to tell you he was going on a holiday with his girlfriend's parents. They're taking him to Bermuda immediately after his last final exam."
    "That's wonderful," she cried. "It's nice that he's become involved with a girl whose family has such high standing and wealth. I’m very happy for him. At least someone has listened to me and learned about life."
    "He also said he heard Clara Sue wasn't coming home for the summer," I continued, ignoring her innuendo. "Did you know that?"
    "Not coming home? No. Where is she going?" she asked, her face in a grimace.
    "She is going to spend the summer with a friend at the Jersey shore."
    "Well, that's fine," Mother said quickly. "I really don't have the patience for her right now. I'm trying to put my life back together." She beamed a smile. "I feel a little like Humpty Dumpty. I've fallen off a wall, but fortunately, all the king's horses and all the king's men can put me back together." She laughed again and spun around to gaze at herself once more, tapping her teardrop diamond earrings and then running her fingers over her diamond necklace. Her eyes seemed to draw and absorb the sparkle from her precious gems.
    "I'm happy for you, Mother," I said, and I went to my closet to choose something appropriate to wear to dinner. We had nearly a full house, and there were many guests to greet.
    "Thank you. Oh," she said, turning. "With all our chatter, I nearly forgot why I came in here to see you. Isn't that silly of me?"
    "Oh? I thought you came in here to show me your new dress," I said.
    "Yes, that, too."
    "What else brought you in here, Mother?" I asked, turning back to her, sensing she had something up her sleeve.
    She paused and took a deep breath. "Bronson would like to have you and James accompany me to his home for a formal dinner this coming Tuesday night, if that's all right with you."
    I stared at her a moment.
    "A formal dinner?"
    "Yes. It will be wonderful, I assure you. And I would like so much for you to see Beulla Woods. Also," she added, her eyes narrowing, "it would be smart to accept an invitation from the man who is president of the bank holding the mortgage on the hotel."
    "If I agree to go, it won't be because I feel threatened not to," I snapped back. She pulled herself up as if I had spit in her face.
    "I didn't mean . . . it's just good sense to do the proper things now that you are a woman of some position, Dawn," she explained.
    "All right," I said. "I'll speak to Jimmy about it." "Well, why shouldn't he want to go?" she asked quickly. "Jimmy's not impressed with these things, Mother, but I don't anticipate him refusing, so relax."
    She brightened immediately.
    "That's very nice, Dawn. I so want us to become good friends, despite all the unpleasantness that has occurred between us in the past."
    Unpleasantness? I thought. Her permitting Grandmother Cutler to arrange for my kidnapping, and then her not coming to my defense while the dreadful old woman made my life miserable after my return? Unpleasantness? Her never coming to see me in New York or doing anything to interfere with Grandmother Cutler's sending me to give birth at The Meadows, under the control of that horrible sister, Emily? Unpleasantness? Her failure to do anything about poor Randolph and her permitting her children to fall away like pieces of some delicate china?
    "I have to get ready for dinner, Mother," I said, turning away so she couldn't see the two tears that had lodged themselves in the corners of my eyes.
    "Of course." She started out and turned in the doorway. "Isn't it remarkable," she said, "how well you are doing?" She laughed. "Grandmother Cutler is surely spinning around in her grave." Her laughter trailed after her.
    Perhaps Mother was right about that, I thought. Perhaps that was really why I was working as hard as I could to fill her shoes, and maybe even do better. I wanted to keep her spinning in her grave.
    "Forgive me, Jimmy," I whispered, "but I can't help wanting sweet revenge."
     
    To my surprise, Jimmy was more than just willing to go to dinner at Bronson Alcott's home. He was looking forward to it.
    "I've heard so much about that house," he told me, "especially from Buster Morris, who does some grounds maintenance there as well."
    I smiled. Jimmy had become very popular with the hotel staff, especially the men and women directly under his authority. He put on no airs of superiority and didn't act as if he knew everything. He