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I looked away. Not money, not power and position, not all the honor associated with being a Cutler could replace one loving moment I had lived as a Longchamp. But no one wanted to see this or under-stand, least of all my real parents.
Oh, Momma! Oh, Daddy! I cried in the darkness of my tormented thoughts. Why did you do this? I had been better of not knowing the truth. It would have been better for all of
us if that memorial stone to a stolen baby remained untouched, lingering forever in the darkness on a quiet cemetery, just another lie.
But to me the world was full of lies, and one more now seemed not to matter.
10
A NEW BROTHER, A LOST LOVE
For the next few days I barely saw my father. Every time I did see him, he appeared frenzied, rushing from one place to another like a worker bee while my grandmother sauntered coolly about the hotel like the queen. Whenever my father saw me, he promised to spend more—time with me. I felt like a pebble in his shoe. He would pause to shake me out and then hurry off, forgetting from one time to the next that he had seen me and said the same things.
My mother didn't come down from her room for days. Then one day she appeared at the dining room door, greeting the guests as they entered. She was dressed in a beautiful turquoise gown and had her hair brushed and curled so it lay just over her shoulders. She wore a diamond necklace that glittered so brightly it was blinding in the light from the overhead chandelier, and I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She looked as if she had never been sick a single day in her life. Her complexion couldn't have been more rosy, her eyes brighter, her hair more healthy and rich.
I stood off in a corner of the lobby and watched how she and my grandmother greeted people, both of them smiling warmly, patting hands, accepting kisses on the cheeks, and kissing other women and men. It seemed as though everyone who stayed at the hotel was an old friend. Both my mother and my grandmother looked radiant and alive, energized by the crowd of guests filing past them.
But when it was over, when all the guests had entered, my grandmother gave my mother a strange, stern look and then walked into the dining room. My mother didn't see me watching her at first. She looked as though she would burst into tears. My father came out to fetch her. Just before she turned to accompany him into the dining room, she looked my way.
I thought she had the oddest expression, one that even frightened me a bit. She looked as though she didn't recognize me. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, and she tilted her head slightly. Then she whispered something to my father. He turned, saw me, and waved. My mother continued into the dining room, but my father came across the lobby.
"Hi," he said. "How are you doing? You getting enough to eat?"
I nodded. He had asked me the same question three times in two days.
"Well, tomorrow you will have more to do and more fun. Philip and Clara Sue are coming home. School's out."
"Tomorrow?" I had forgotten the date. Time had lost its meaning for me.
"Uh-huh. I'd better get back in there. Lunch is about to begin. As soon as I get that free moment, we'll talk," he added and left me quickly.
Tomorrow Philip was coming, I thought. I was afraid of seeing him. How would he feel about all this? Would he be embarrassed? Maybe he wouldn't be able to look me in the face. How many times had he recalled kissing me, touching me? Did it disgust him now? None of this was his fault, nor was it mine. We didn't deceive each other; we had been deceived.
And then there was Clara Sue to think about. I would never be able to face the reality of her being my sister, I thought, and with the way she hated me . . . tomorrow . . . just the thought of it made me sweat and tremble.
Later that day I went exploring through the hotel. After I finished working with Sissy, afternoons usually belonged to me. The only problem was that there was usually nothing to do. I was all alone, without anyone to talk to. Sissy always had other jobs to do, and there was no one else my age among the guests since the summer season hadn't started yet. Part of me was looking forward to Philip and Clara Sue's arrival. Granted, things would be awkward at first, but we'd all adjust. We had to. After all, we were a family.
Family. It was the first time the word had entered my mind with regards to the new people in my life. We were a family. Philip, Clara Sue, Grandmother Cutler, my real mother and father, and me, were a family. There would never be any changing of that. We belonged to each other, and no one would ever be able to take them away from me.
Although the thought of the Cutlers as my real family gave me a sense of comfort and security I had never thought possible, it also made me feel guilty. I instantly envisioned Daddy and Momma, Jimmy and Fern. They were my family, too, no matter what anyone said. I would always love them, but that didn't mean I couldn't learn to love my real family, too, did it?
Not wanting to dwell on my two families anymore, at least for the moment, I concentrated on my exploration trek. I went from room to room, floor to floor, really paying attention to my surroundings. The extravagance and opulence of Cutler's Cove was dazzling. There were plush carpets, Oriental rugs, rich tapestries, sleek leather sofas and chairs, lamps with glittering shades of Tiffany glass, polished book-shelves with rows upon rows of books.
There were paintings and sculptures; delicate figurines and vases overflowing with lush, fragrant flowers. The beauty of it all left me speechless, but the most amazing thing of all was that I belonged here. This was my new world. I had been born into the wealth of the Cutler family, and now I had been returned to it. It was going to take some getting used to.
Each room outshined the next one that I stepped into, and soon I lost track of where I was. Trying to get my bearings so that I could return to the hotel's lobby, I rounded a corner. Yet instead of stairs, there was only a door in the wall. There were no other rooms. Intrigued by my discovery, I opened the door. It creaked on its hinges, and a musty smell drifted out. Darkness stretched before me. I reached out a hand, searching for a light switch. Finding one, I turned it on. The bath of light put me at ease and gave me the courage to walk down what seemed to be an unused corridor.
I reached the end and another door. Biting my lip I opened it and stepped inside. Surrounding me were packed boxes, trunks, and covered piles of furniture. I was in some sort of storage room. Suddenly I became excited. The perfect place to learn about one's family—one's past—was by going through what was left behind by one's ancestors.
Eagerly I knelt before a trunk, not caring about the dust on the floor, consumed only by thoughts of what I would discover. I couldn't wait!
Trunk after trunk was opened as the afternoon flew by. There were photos of Grandmother Cutler as a young woman, looking just as stern as ever. There were photos of my father from the time he was a child until he married my mother. There were photos of my mother, too, but for some reason she didn't look happy. In her eyes there was a sad faraway look. I turned to the back of the photos of her, noting the dates. The photos had been taken after I had been kidnapped. No wonder she looked the way she did.
There were photos of Clara Sue and Philip and photos of the hotel in its various stages of growth as Cutler's Cove became more and more prosperous.
A look army watch showed me that it was six o'clock. Dinner would be in half an hour and I was a mess! A mirror across the room provided a reflection of my dusty self. I'd have to hurry to get myself ready. Gathering up the folders the photos had been in, I prepared to put them back in the trunk I had opened. As I was about to replace the folders, I noticed a folder I had missed in the bottom of the trunk. Although I knew I was cutting things close timewise, I couldn't resist taking a peek. Putting aside the other folders, scooped up the one I had missed. After pouring out the contents, I was stunned.
There were newspaper clippings . . . newspaper clippings of my kidnapping!
