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"Poor Mrs. Cutler," she continued, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "She simply collapsed at her desk in her office. Just like her to be stricken ill while right in the middle of work. Fortunately, your father was looking for her and found her. There was quite a commotion until the ambulance finally arrived and they took her to the hospital. But we're all praying," she added.
"Thank you," I said and indicated to Jimmy that he should follow me across the lobby to Randolph's office. When we got there, I knocked softly on the door, but we heard no response. I knocked again, much harder.
"Who is it? Who is it?" a frenzied voice cried. I opened the door and we stepped in.
Randolph was seated at his desk leaning over a pile of papers. He barely looked up. His hair was disheveled and looked like he had been running his fingers through it for hours and hours. His tie was loose and his shirt unbuttoned and he had a glazed look in his eyes. There wasn't even a note of recognition in his face.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm too busy now. Later, later . . ."
He turned his attention back to the papers, running a pen down one and then up another as if he were searching desperately for a single item.
"Randolph, it's me, Dawn," I said. He looked up quickly.
"Dawn? Oh . . . Dawn." He put his pen down and clasped his hands. "You don't know what's happened . . . my mother . . . she . . . my mother's never been sick," he said, following it with a mad, hysterical laugh. "She never goes to a doctor. I always say . . . Mother, you should get a regular checkup. You have so many friends who are doctors and they're always telling you to come in for a checkup. But she'd never listen to me. Doctors make me sick, she'd always say." He laughed again.
"Imagine saying that . . . doctors make me sick. But she's been like a rock . . . solid," he said, holding up his fist. "Never missed a day's work . . . not a day, even when my father was alive. I don't even remember her having a cold. I once asked my father and he said, 'Germs wouldn't dare enter her body. They wouldn't have the nerve.' "
He laughed hysterically again and then looked down at his papers.
"I'm falling behind . . . with everything . . . bills, orders . . . things she normally took care of, you see. I had to ask the guests to leave and cancel the few who were coming this week. I can't do everything right now . . . not until she's well enough to return."
"Randolph," I said when he paused long enough for me to interrupt, "do you know where I have been these last months? Do you know where Grandmother Cutler sent me?"
"Been? Oh yes, you've been in school . . . practicing your singing. How wonderful," he said.
I looked at Jimmy who stood there with his eyes wide, his mouth open in amazement.
"She never even told him," I muttered. I turned back to Randolph. "You didn't know I was at The Meadows?"
"The Meadows? No, I didn't know. At least, I think I didn't. But there's so much on my mind these days, I'm not sure about anything. You must forgive me. There's the hotel, of course, and of course, there's Laura Sue. She's taking all this very badly. A stream of doctors have gone up and down the stairs to her, but none have done anything to help her. And now . . . Mother's . . ." He shook his head. "Not a cold, not even a cold all this time."
"I must see her," I said. "I must see Grandmother Cutler right away."
"See her? Oh, she's not here, honey. She's in the hospital."
"I know that. Why aren't you there?" I asked.
"I . . . I'm very busy," he said. "Very busy. She understands." He laughed. "If anyone understands, she does. But you can go. Yes, go see her and tell her . . . tell her . . ." He looked at the papers on the desk. "The produce she ordered last week . . . it's gone up ten percent. Yes, my calculations say ten percent. What should I do?" He shrugged.
"Come on, Jimmy," I said. "He's useless."
"I'll spend time with you later," Randolph cried when we started for the door. "I'm just a little tied up right now."
"Thank you," I said and we left him mumbling over his papers.
"Maybe we should go see your mother first," Jimmy suggested.
"No, she would be worse. I'm sure she's milking this for everything it's worth," I added bluntly.
We went back to Mrs. Hill in the lobby and got directions to the hospital. Twenty minutes later we were walking down a corridor to the intensive care unit. A nurse met us at the door.
"I'm Mrs. Cutler's granddaughter," I explained. "I've been out of town and just heard what happened. I need to see her. How is she?"
"You know she's had a severe stroke," the nurse replied dryly.
"Yes."
"It's left her right side completely paralyzed and her speech is slurred. She can hardly make any sounds at all."
