Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

forefinger along my forehead gently.
    "Thank you, Uncle Philip. I'd better get out front. Aunt Trisha is arriving any moment."
    "Oh yes, Trisha," he said, smirking. "That woman drives me mad sometimes. She can't sit still. She's always spinning and turning and rushing here and there, and those hands . . . they're like two birds attached to her wrists always trying to break free."
    "She's like that because she's a performer, Uncle Philip."
    "Right. The theater," he said, his voice light but his look serious as he looked down, still holding me.
    "I've got to go," I repeated.
    "Me too. Happy birthday again," he said, kissing my cheek once more before he released me.
    "Thank you," I said and hurried away, some-thing wistful in his look making my heart skip a beat.
    Just as I entered the lobby, I saw Mommy greeting Aunt Trisha. They hugged as I ran across the lobby. Aunt Trisha was wearing a dark red dress with a long skirt that came nearly down to her ankles. When she spun around, the skirt flew about like the skirt of a flamenco dancer. She had sandals with straps up her calves and wore a white shawl loosely around her shoulders. Her dark brown hair was drawn back from her face and pinned up in a chignon that I thought looked very glamorous. Long earrings made of sea shells dangled from her lobes.
    "Darling Christie!" she cried and held out her arms for me. "Look at you," she said, holding me out at the shoulders. "You grow more beautiful every time I visit. This one's headed for the stage, Dawn," she said, nodding.
    "Perhaps," Mammy said, gazing at me proudly. "Are you hungry, Trish?"
    "Ravenously. Oh, I can't wait for your party," she said to me.
    "I'll tell Julius to bring your things to the house," Mommy said. "You'll be staying there . . . in Fern's room," she added.
    "Isn't she coming home from college for this?" Aunt Trisha asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
    "Yes, but she agreed to stay at the hotel," Mom-my said. The look between Aunt Trisha and Mommy explained it all—how glad Mommy was that Aunt Fern was staying at the hotel instead of the house, how there had been new problems, problems my parents tried to discuss privately. But the walls have ears and both Jefferson and I knew Aunt Fern had gotten into some serious trouble at college again recently.
    "Come," Mommy said. "I'll take you to the kitchen for something special. You know how Nussbaum likes to fuss over you. And we'll catch up."
    "Okay. Christie, I have the show programs in my suitcase."
    "Oh thank you, Aunt Trisha." I kissed her again and she and Mommy went off to the kitchen, the two of them talking a mile a minute, neither waiting for the other to finish a sentence.
    The rest of the day moved far too slowly for me. Of course, I was anticipating Gavin's arrival and hovered about the front of the hotel as much as I could. Finally, late in the afternoon, a taxicab from the airport arrived. I rushed out and down the steps hoping it was Granddaddy Longchamp, Edwina and Gavin, but Aunt Fern stepped out instead.
    She wore a pair of old jeans and a faded sweat-shirt. Since I had seen her last, she had chopped her hair off, her beautiful, long silky black hair that Daddy said reminded him so much of his mother's hair. My heart sank, knowing how disappointed he was going to be.
    Aunt Fern was tall, almost as tall as Daddy, and had a model's figure—long legs and slim torso. Despite the terrible things she did to herself: smoking everything from cigarettes to tiny cigars, drinking and carousing into the early morning hours, she had a remarkably clear and soft complexion. She had Daddy's dark eyes, only hers were smaller, narrower, and at times, downright sneaky. I hated the way she pulled her upper lip up in the corner when something annoyed her.
    "Take the bag inside," she commanded the driver when he lifted it from the trunk. Then she saw me.
    "Well, if it isn't the princess herself. Happy sweet sixteen," she said and took a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket. Her pants were so tight fitting, I couldn't imagine any room for anything in the pockets. She stuck a cigarette in her mouth quickly and lit it as she looked at the hotel. "Every time I come back here, my body tightens into knots," she muttered.
    "Hi Aunt Fern," I finally said. She flashed a quick smile.
    "Where the hell's everybody? In their offices?" she added sarcastically.
    "Mommy's with Aunt Trisha at the house and Daddy's in the back working on the grounds."
    "Aunt Trisha," she said