Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

had as boyfriends, this man was the least attractive. He had big ears and a long neck and his cheeks sank in like the cheeks of an old man.
    "Shut up, Morty," she replied without taking her eyes off us. Then she smiled again. "Morty and I were on our way to Florida to Morty's beach house when I had an idea you two might have come here, and decided we should take a side trip. Sure enough, I was right.
    "You two have got everyone wringing their hands back home, you know. Uncle Philip even made a personal visit to see me because he thought you might have come to me. Fat chance of that, I told him. So," she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and bringing her hands to her hips again, "why'd you run away?"
    I would never tell her the truth, I thought. If anything, she might just laugh. It was the sort of thing she would be happy to hear.
    "Never mind," she said quickly. "You don't have to tell me why. I can see it written on both your faces," she said, looking from Gavin to me and back to Gavin. "You've gone beyond spin the bottle."
    "That's not true," Gavin said sharply, his face turning crimson.
    "Don't tell me what's true and what's not, Gavin," she snapped, a small, tight and cold smile meeting his challenge. "We're both Longchamps. I know what's in our blood. Anyway," she said, relaxing, "you don't have to worry. I'm not about to tell Philip anything. Unless," she said, nodding, "you make me."
    "Then he doesn't know we're here?" I said, breathing relief.
    "No. And I don't think he's smart enough to figure it out," she added. "So," she said, looking around. "This is quite a hideaway. Auntie Charlotte has been telling me about her redecorating," she added and laughed. Her boyfriend laughed too. "Who knows, Morty. This might take off and become thé
    "Yes, art nouveau," he said.
    "I want you two to meet Morton Findly Atwood. What do you want them to call you around here, Morty? Mr. Atwood? Or just sir?"
    "Mr. Atwood would be fine. Sir's a bit too much," he said, smiling. He flicked his cigarette ash on the floor.
    "Mr. Atwood's family is a highly respected one. They're what we call old money . . . dwindling, but old," Fern said and laughed. Morton Atwood laughed too. What kind of respect did he have for his own family, I wondered, if he could let Aunt Fern make fun of them like this?
    "Anyway, now we're here," she said, gazing around again, "we've decided to take a minivacation on our way to our vacation, right Morty?"
    "If you'd like. One thing I have plenty of," he said, "is time."
    "What do you mean, Aunt Fern?" I asked. Despair heavied my legs, making them feel nailed to the floor and my heart started to pound in anticipation of her reply.
    "What do you mean, Aunt Fern?" she mimicked. "What do you think it means? We're hanging out a while. I'm sure there's plenty of room. Auntie Charlotte was just about to show us the rooms so we could pick out one that suits us, weren't you, Auntie Charlotte?"
    "Oh sure, sure," Charlotte said, not really understanding what was happening. Luther glared furiously.
    "After all, we're all family," Aunt Fern said. "All except Luther, that is," she added, turning to him. Luther reddened with subdued anger. "Which room have you two taken?" she asked.
    "We have two rooms," I said quickly. "One for Jefferson and Gavin and one for me. Next to each other," I added.
    "How convenient," she said. "Morton, shall we inspect the facilities?"
    "Whatever you say, my dear," he replied, standing. He was a little over six feet tall with narrow shoulders and a very narrow waist for a man.
    "Morty happens to be an excellent tennis player," Aunt Fern said. "He might go pro. There aren't any tennis courts on the grounds, are there, Luther?"
    Luther's reply resembled one of his grunts more than a no.
    "I didn't think there was, but we'll make due. I'm sure there's plenty to occupy us around here. Look at how occupied the princess has been," she said nodding toward me. "Auntie Charlotte, can you re-show us around now?" she said. Charlotte stood up.
    "Oh sure."
    "Then do it," Aunt Fern said sharply. Charlotte's eyes flashed toward me as though she were pleading for help. I felt sorry for her, but I didn't know what to do. I couldn't toss them out, although I wouldn't have hesitated to do so if I could.
    "And Luther," Aunt Fern said, turning to him, "would you get our suitcases out of the trunk and bring them upstairs."
    Luther stared at her for a moment and then turned and left to do her