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Randolph, on the other hand, looked as though he hadn't yet gone to sleep. His eyelids drooped; he was pale and his shoulders were bent. He wore the same clothing he had worn the day before, only it looked wrinkled. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in them, I thought. It wouldn't surprise me to learn he had never left Grandmother Cutler's office.
"I'm glad to see you two rose early," she said as she sat down. Randolph looked confused for a moment until Mother tapped the back of his seat and he sat down. She ordered juice and coffee and eggs for herself. Randolph wanted only coffee.
"Well," she continued, "we have a great deal to do today. Randolph and I will be going to the funeral parlor to make the final arrangements. We thought it would be a nice touch if after the church ceremony, the funeral procession came up to the hotel so Grandmother Cutler could pass by the front entrance one last time and the hotel staff could bid her their final goodbye.
"Don't you all think that would be a nice touch?" she asked, practically singing.
Philip agreed. Clara Sue gulped down her juice and continued to glare my way. Finally, she mustered enough courage to assail me.
"We heard you visited Grandmother in the hospital moments before she died," she commented.
"What of it?" I replied.
"You must have done something to aggravate her to death. You were always aggravating her," she accused.
"Oh Clara Sue," Mother pleaded. "Please don't make a scene at breakfast. My nerves can't take it."
"Grandmother Cutler didn't need me to aggravate her," I said, "she had you," I added, taking the wind from the sail of her attack.
Philip laughed loudly and Clara Sue's face turned crimson.
"I didn't have to be sent off to have a bastard," she sneered. "Whose was it? His?" She pointed at Jimmy. "Or don't you know who the father was?"
"Please," Mother said, "stop this right now. We're a family in mourning," she reminded.
Philip dropped his eyes to the table, but kept his silly smirk. Clara Sue embraced herself and turned away in a sulk. I looked at Randolph, but he seemed distracted, lost in his own world and unable to hear anything. Under the table Jimmy found my hand and squeezed it.
Mother took over the conversation after that, describing all the arrangements for the funeral in great detail, down to the flowers she had chosen to be placed around the coffin, the cards she had had printed to be given out, and the food she had ordered Nussbaum to prepare for afterward.
"Naturally, we have to make this the most impressive funeral Cutler's Cove has ever seen," she declared. "People would expect it."
With a joy and a pleasure she had trouble disguising, Mother had taken complete control of Cutler's Cove. Randolph sat by nodding in silent agreement with everything she said and did. It was almost as if he were a puppet and Mother had her hand behind him, manipulating him.
She went at her own preparations with relish, acting as though she were preparing for a gala celebration. The day of the funeral she descended the stairway like a queen about to greet her subjects. Never did she look more radiantly beautiful. Her black dress had a string of tiny diamond-like stones along the V-neck collar, which I thought showed more cleavage than proper for a memorial service. It was a short-sleeved dress with a firm waist and pleated skirt. She wore her most ostentatious diamond necklace and matching earrings. She had had Randolph get her one of Grandmother Cutler's beautiful silk shawls to wear over her shoulders.
Randolph and Philip both wore black suits and ties. Clara Sue had a black dress that she had to have let out at the waist and bosom. I overheard some of the staff talking about how she had abused the seamstress when the poor woman came to do the fitting.
Mother insisted I go to the boutique in Cutler's Cove and charge something to her account. I had Jimmy take me and I bought a simple black dress.
Jimmy and I followed Mother, Randolph and Philip to the church in Jimmy's car. It was as if Grandmother Cutler had ordered the proper weather for a funeral, too. The sky was completely overcast and gray, and a cool wind blew in from the sea. Even the ocean looked dismal and depressed, the white caps barely rising and the tide barely making its way up the shore.
Mother had been correct in predicting the importance and size of Grandmother Cutler's funeral. The church was overflowing with the residents of the community. Every lawyer, doctor and politician was there, as well as every businessman, many of whom prized the hotel as one of their chief clients.
All eyes were on us, especially, I thought, on Mother, as we took our places up front. The coffin was before us. Mother had decided it should be kept closed. The minister made a long sermon, talking about the special obligation more fortunate people had to their communities. He cited Grandmother Cutler as an important community leader who had used her skills and business sense to help build the community and thus help those who weren't born as fortunate as she was. He concluded by saying she had lived up to the assignment God had given her.
Only Randolph showed any sincere emotion, his eyes filling with tears, his head bowed. Mother maintained her perfect smile, turning and nodding at this important person and that from time to time. Whenever she thought it necessary, she dabbed her eyes with the corner of her white silk handkerchief and lowered her head. She knew how to turn her emotions on and off like a faucet. Clara Sue looked bored, as usual, and Philip kept glancing at me, an impish glint in his eyes and a flirtatious smile on his lips.
Afterward, we proceeded the way Mother had described. The funeral procession followed the hearse up to the hotel where we all got out to listen to the minister say a few more words from the front steps of the hotel. The staff was gathered all around, everyone looking glum. I caught sight of Sissy in the background with her mother. She had come even though Grandmother Cutler had ruthlessly fired her. When she saw me, she smiled.
We went on to the cemetery. The first thing I noticed when we drove in and walked to the Cutler section was that the tombstone Grandmother Cutler had put up with what was supposed to be my name was gone. Now it seemed more like some nightmare I had had.
The minister read some psalms over the grave and then we were all asked to bow our heads while he offered the final prayer. I prayed that Grandmother Cutler, wherever she was, would finally realize the cruelty and harshness of her ways. I prayed she would repent and beg God to forgive her.
Again, as if Grandmother Cutler commanded the weather, the skies began to clear and the sun dropped its rays around us. The ocean looked blue and alive again, and the terns that sounded a mournful cry in the morning now chatted gaily as they swooped down on the beaches searching for some plunder.
Randolph was so confused with grief, he had to be led back to the car. Mother thanked the minister for his nice service and invited him to the hotel to join in what was supposed to be the mournful gathering.
She had arranged for everything to be set up in the lobby. I thought all that was missing was live music. The staff were on duty just the way they would have been for any hotel affair. Waiters walked around with hors d'oeuvres and glasses of whiskey and wine. Tables of food were arranged at the far end. At mother's behest, Nussbaum had prepared all sorts of salads and meats, including Swedish meatballs, small frankfurters, and sliced turkeys. There were Jell-O molds with fruit and a separate table just for desserts.
