Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

he'll call," she said. Then, after a moment's pause, she asked, "How did he react when he learned about my marriage?"
    "He's not upset, if that's what you mean. He was surprised, of course," I said.
    She laughed her thin, nervous laugh.
    "That's Philip. That's why I don't worry," she sang.
    "You saw that Clara Sue's things have been moved to Beulla Woods, I imagine," I said. I knew that must have been one of the first things Livingston had told her and Bronson when they had returned from their honeymoon.
    "Yes," she said, tagging on a long "S" sound. It was almost a whistle. "Did she call and demand that be done already?"
    "No," I replied in a casual tone. "I decided to do it myself."
    "Clara Sue may be upset about that," she mused.
    "Well, better that she be upset there then. I have no time for her immature behavior here," I stated firmly. "She belongs with you," I asserted. Mother did not disagree.
    "Bronson expected she would live with us. He wanted it," she added, but I could feel her pouting. Mother expected her new marriage would restore her youth magically. She didn't want the obligations of family, of children. She wanted truly to be a newlywed and, in every sense of the word, rejuvenated.
    "That's good," I said. "Well, I have to get back to work. Welcome back, Mother."
    "Oh, Dawn," she cried before I could say good-bye, "when can you and James come to dinner? Philip will come, too, of course. Bronson would like you all to come this Saturday night, if you can. We've already started planning it. I'm having the Steidmans." She put on a haughty tone. I could just see her lifting her nose in the air. "Mr. Steidman is building that new complex outside of Virginia Beach. It's a multimillion-dollar construction project."
    "I can't speak for Philip, Mother, but you know Saturday nights are our big nights at the hotel. We have a full house this weekend, too. For the first time in a long time we've had to turn people away," I said proudly.
    "Really," she said without any interest. "Well, suit yourself, but you will be missing an important dinner."
    "I'm sorry. It can't be helped," I said. "It is the resort season, you know."
    "Oh, don't become a dreadful bore, Dawn. And don't let that place dictate your life," she warned, her voice becoming impatient.
    "I'll let you know as soon as we can break free one night, Mother," I said, too tired to argue with her.
    "Let me know soon," she demanded. "I want an invitation to Beulla Woods to mean something special. I'm going to be very selective about whom I do and don't invite. Bronson knows who really has money and who simply puts on airs, you know."
    "That shouldn't be important to you, Mother. If the people are nice, don't hold their low incomes against them," I said.
    "Oh, Dawn, you still don't realize the significance of your associates, do you? And you're in charge of such a famous resort," she said, followed with one of her silly, thin laughs.
    "Good friends, true friends are more valuable," I said. "It doesn't matter how important their jobs are or how big their houses are. Not to me," I emphasized.
    "You'll learn," she insisted. It was just as if I had no voice and Mother had no ears for all the effect my words had. She was silent for a moment and then went on to babble for a few more minutes, describing her plans for the Saturday night dinner menu. Finally I was able to say good-bye.
    Mother was true to her word. Almost immediately after she and Bronson returned to Beulla Woods we began to hear about her extravagant dinner parties. It seemed she was in a furious campaign to win back any social acceptance she had lost because of the revelations and scandals that haunted the Cutlers. Jimmy, Philip and I finally gave in and went to one of her dinners, but she continued to call to invite us again and again.
    We were all very busy, however. It was turning out to be one of the hottest summers on record, the economy was good and our reservations phones were ringing off the hook. Philip did prove to be a valuable assistant and quickly picked up some of the managerial responsibilities. He took over Randolph's old office, and I began to appreciate the relief he provided because it allowed me to spend more time with Jimmy and Christie.
    Jimmy had grown to love the work he did around the hotel. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty; in fact, he sought opportunities to do so, and despite the title he carried—supervisor of maintenance—it wasn't unusual to find him alongside