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autiful length of sandy white beach that sparkled as if it had been combed clean. Even the waves that came up came up softly, tenderly, as if the ocean were afraid of doing any damage. As we passed the entrance to the beach, I spotted a sign that read,
RESERVED FOR CUTLER COVE HOTEL GUESTS ONLY. Then the patrol car turned right up a long drive, and I saw the hotel ahead, sitting on a little rise, the manicured grounds gently rolling down before it.
It was an enormous three-story Wedgwood blue mansion with milk-white shutters and a large wrap-around porch. Most of the rooms were lit up, and there were Japanese lanterns along the top of the porch and above the spiraling stairway built out of bleached wood. The foundation was made from polished stone. Bathed in the ground lights, it sparkled as if it had been built out of pearls. Guests were meandering about the beautiful grounds upon which there were two small gazebos; wooden and stone benches and tables; fountains, some shaped like large fish, some simple saucers with spouts in the middle; and gardens full of beautiful flowers capturing almost all the colors of the rainbow. The walkways were bordered with short hedges and lit by well-spaced foot-lights.
"Somewhat better than what you've been used to, huh?" Officer Carter said. I just glared at her. How could she be so callous? I didn't answer her; I turned away and gazed out the window as the patrol car wound its way around the circular drive.
"Keep going," Officer Carter said. "Round back. That's where we were told to go."
Round back? I thought. Where were my new parents, my real parents? Why hadn't they rushed to Richmond to claim me instead of having policemen bring me as if I were a criminal? Weren't they excited about meeting me? Perhaps they were as nervous about it as I was. I wondered if Philip had told them things about me. Had Clara Sue? She would get them to hate me for sure.
The patrol car stopped, but my heart wouldn't stop pounding, thumping against my chest as if there were a tiny little drummer inside me beating his drumsticks against my bones. I could barely breathe, and I couldn't stop trembling. Oh, Momma, I thought, if you hadn't gotten sick and been taken to the hospital, I wouldn't be here now. Why was fate so cruel? This can't be happening; you and Daddy just couldn't have been baby kidnappers. There has to be another explanation, one my true parents might know and be willing to tell me. Please let it be so, I prayed.
As soon as we stopped, Officer Dickens got out quickly and opened the door for us.
"After I get them to sign this," Officer Carter said, indicating papers on her clipboard, "I'll come right out."
Sign this? I thought, looking at the document. I was being treated as if I were something delivered and actually taken to the delivery entrance.
I stood there, staring at the back entrance of the hotel. All it was was a small door with a screen door. There were four wooden steps leading up to it. Officer Carter started toward the door, but I didn't follow. I stood there holding my suitcase.
"Come along," she commanded. She saw my hesitation and put her hands on her hips. "This is your home, your real family. Let's go," she snapped and reached out to take my hand.
"Good luck, Dawn," Officer Dickens called.
Officer Carter tugged me, and I followed her to the door. Suddenly it was opened and a nearly bald-headed, tall man, with skin so pale he could be an undertaker, stood looking out at us. He was dressed in a dark blue sport jacket, matching tie, white shirt, and slacks. He stood at least six feet tall. As we drew closer, I saw he had bushy eyebrows, a long mouth with thin lips, and a nose that was an eagle's beak. Could this be my real father? He looked nothing like me.
"Please come right this way," he said, stepping back. "Mrs. Cutler is awaiting you in her office. My name is Collins. I'm the maître d'," he added. He looked at me with curious dark brown eyes, but he did not smile. He gestured ahead with his long arm and long, slightly brown fingers, moving so gracefully and quietly it was as if he moved in slow motion.
Officer Carter nodded and headed down the short, narrow entryway that brought us to what was obviously the rear of the kitchen where the storage rooms were. Some doors were opened, and I saw cartons of canned goods and boxes of grocery items. Collins pointed to the left when we reached the end of the corridor.
Why were they sneaking me in? I wondered. We turned a corner and moved down another long hallway.
"I hope we get there before I have to retire from the police force," Officer Carter quipped.
"Just right down here," Collins replied.
Finally he stopped at a door and knocked softly. "Come in, I heard a firm female voice say. Collins opened the door and peered inside.
"They've arrived," he announced.
"Show them in," the woman said. Was it my mother?
Collins stepped back so we could enter. Officer Carter walked in first, and I followed slowly. We were in an office. I looked around. There was a pleasant lilac scent, but I saw no flowers. The room had an austere and simple look. The floor had hardwood slats that were probably the original floor. There was a tightly woven dark blue oval rug in front of the aqua chintz settee, which was at right angles to the large, dark oak desk on which everything was neatly arranged. Presently, the only light in the room came from a small lamp on the desk. It cast an eerie yellowish glow over the face of the elderly woman who gazed at us.
Even though she was seated, I could see that she was a tall, stately looking woman with steel-blue hair cut and styled in soft waves that curled under her ears and just at the base of her neck. Pear-shaped diamond earrings dangled from each lobe. She wore a matching pear-shaped diamond necklace set in gold. Although she was thin and probably didn't weigh more than one hundred and fifteen pounds, she looked so stern and secure, she seemed much larger. Her shoulders were pulled back in the bright blue cotton jacket she wore over her white frilly collar blouse.
"I'm Officer Carter and this is Dawn," Officer Carter said quickly.
"What has to be done?" the elderly woman, who I thought must be my real grandmother, demanded. "I need this signed."
"Let me see it," my grandmother said and put on her pearl-framed glasses. She read the document quickly and then signed it.
"Thank you," Officer Carter said. "Well." She looked at me. "I'll be on my way. Good luck," she muttered and left the office.
Without speaking to me, my grandmother rose and came around her desk. I saw she wore an ankle-length matching blue skirt and eggshell-white leather shoes designed for someone who had to do a great deal of walking. They looked more like men's shoes. The only imperfection in her appearance, if it could be called that, was a slight roll in her nylon stocking on her right foot.
She turned on a pole lamp in the corner, so that there was more light, and then with her stone-cold gray eyes she stood staring at me for a long moment. I searched her face for evidence of myself and thought my grandmother's mouth was firmer and longer than mine and her eyes didn't show a trace of blue.
