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Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

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said, embracing me. "Funny," he said, looking around, "old lady Cutler's gone, and poor Randolph's followed in her footsteps. Now your mother runs off to be married and live in that great house, and Clara Sue is sure to live with them."
    "Oh, she'll live with them, all right," I said. "I'll see to that."
    "Then there will just be us," he said.
    "And Philip," I reminded him.
    "Oh, yes, and Philip."
    A few days later—a day before Mother and her new husband returned from their whirlwind marriage and honeymoon in New York City—Philip arrived. He was darkly tanned and rested from his vacation in Bermuda. The first place he came to was my office. I heard him knock and looked up to see him peek around the door.
    "Hello," he said.
    "Philip. Did you just arrive?"
    "Yes," he said, entering. "Rested and ready for duty," he said, saluting me. I sat back. His eyes scanned me quickly, and he stopped jesting.
    "Something wrong?" he asked.
    "I don't suppose anyone's told you the news yet," I said.
    "News? What news?" He held his smile, but his eyes were filled with worry. "Something's happened to Mother?" he asked.
    "Something's happened, all right. She's remarried and is still on her honeymoon," I replied. He held his smile, but it drifted into incredulity.
    "You're kidding," he said.
    "No. She and Bronson Alcott left about six days ago to be married in New York City. Most of her things have already been moved to Beulla Woods," I added.
    "Well," he said, gazing down at the floor. After a moment his smile returned, and he shifted his gaze back to me. "C'est la vie. That's Mother. No grass grows under her feet," he said. I wondered how much he had known, or if he knew anything. "Are you and Jimmy going to move into that suite now?"
    "No," I said. "We're happy where we are."
    "Good. Then I’ll move in there. That's where Betty Ann and I will eventually live," he added.
    "Oh?"
    "We've decided we will get engaged in the fall and marry a week after we graduate," he said.
    "I'm very happy for you, Philip. Congratulations," I told him. He stood there staring at me, his eyes fixed so intensely on my face, I couldn't help but look down.
    "Just imagine," he said, almost in a whisper, "someday soon we'll be sleeping right beside each other."
    "You mean in rooms beside each other, Philip," I corrected.
    "Yes," he said, widening his smile, "of course. In rooms. Well," he said, slapping his hands together, "a lot's happened and is happening. I wonder if dear Clara Sue knows. Does she?"
    "If she doesn't, she will soon," I said, my eyes hard and cold now.
    "Oh? What do you mean?"
    "I've taken the liberty of moving all of her things to Beulla Woods," I said.
    Philip stared with even more incredulity in his face than he had had before. Then he burst into laughter.
    "How ruthless but decisive of you," he said. Then he shook his head and added, "You really have become Grandmother Cutler. Well, I've got to see to my things," he said before I could reply, and he started out, his laughter trailing behind him.
    I stood up and went to the window to think about what he had said. I didn't care, I told myself. This is one time I don't mind being compared to her. There's got to be a little of Grandmother Cutler in us all if we are to survive, I thought.
    But when I turned and looked up at my father's portrait it seemed his face had grown darker around the eyes.

 
    8

AN ELUSIVE RAINBOW
     
    THE MORNING AFTER MOTHER AND BRONSON RETURNED TO Beulla Woods, she called to tell me all about her wedding and honeymoon in New York. The excitement in her voice when she described the lights of Broadway, the elegantly dressed theater patrons, the crowds and traffic, and the lights and music, all of it, brought back my own memories of the theater; and of course, with that, memories of Michael.
    Mother babbled on and on, describing every last detail. She barely paused for a breath before going on to describe the museums and art galleries they had also visited.
    "I never realized how cultured a man Bronson is," she finally said. Then, in an almost wistful tone, she added, "Funny, you can know someone almost all your life and not really know him."
    "That's very true, even about your closest relatives, Mother," I replied, finally getting a word in. "Have you spoken to Philip since you returned?" I asked quickly before she went on to describe more of her New York honeymoon trip.
    "Philip? No. I called you," she said. "You can tell him I'm home, and if he wants to call,

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