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"That's not so, Mother," I said, lowering my eyes.
"No, no, it is, and I'm happy, happy to see you this way. You won't end up like me, sobbing in some bed and getting old before your time because of the things other people are able to do to you," she declared. She smiled and held out her arms. "I need you to comfort me, dear."
I gazed at Bronson, who looked on the verge of tears himself, and then I went to her and felt her embrace me with all her strength.
Soon afterward the doctor arrived to give Mother something to help her sleep. While he was upstairs with her we all gathered in the sitting room.
"I'll leave immediately for Alabama and make arrangements for Clara Sue to be brought back for burial," Philip said.
"Maybe I should go," Bronson interjected.
"No. You should probably stay with Mother. Don't you think so, Dawn?" Philip asked me.
"What? Oh, yes. I'll see to the arrangements here," I said. As we were leaving Bronson pulled me aside.
"No one's ever told Philip that I was Clara Sue's true father, have they?" he asked.
"I didn't, and I doubt Mother did. Philip never mentioned it, so I assume Clara Sue wanted it kept secret. Some skeletons are better kept in the closet," I said. He nodded, a half smile on his face.
"Laura Sue is right about you, you know. You have become the strength in this family. You're practically the only one who can handle her these days," he confessed. "I can't be hard on her, even though I know she needs it from time to time. Poor Clara Sue," he added. "I hardly got to know her."
"I'm sorry, Bronson."
He kissed me on the cheek, and I joined Jimmy at the car. When we returned to the hotel I found a message that Mr. Updike had phoned. Jimmy left to finish his work, and I went into the office.
"I just heard about Clara Sue," Mr.
Updike said. "One crisis after another for you."
"Yes," I said.
"At least one is finished. Once we confronted him with the recording, he promised to leave you alone. I'll keep the tape in my safe just in case, though."
"Thank you, Mr. Updike. I've never told you this before," I said, "but I can appreciate now why you were so valuable to Grandmother Cutler."
"That's very nice of you to say, Dawn. I can't help believing that if the two of you would have known each other in the early days, things would have turned out quite differently."
"At this point, Mr. Updike, nothing would surprise me. Thanks again," I said.
For the next few days we were all occupied with the mourning period for Clara Sue and the arrangements for her funeral. As with Randolph, many old friends arrived, as well as people from the surrounding community. To her credit, Mother behaved properly. She didn't doll herself up; she was truly a bereaved parent. Philip and Bronson stood on each side of her and held her up at the site of Clara Sue's grave in the family section of the cemetery until the service was over. Afterward the mourners went to Beulla Woods to pay their respects. Mother remained in her room the entire time, unwilling to see anyone. Betty Ann and I hosted and greeted people. Jimmy spent most of his time with Fern and Christie and helped with the twins. For all practical purposes, the hotel itself shut down.
We were moving into the slow period anyway. Winter was practically on top of us. Most of our regular guests were traveling to warmer climates for their holidays. A number of staff had left to work in Florida. We had decided this was the time we would begin our expansion. The fewest possible people would be disrupted by the tradespeople, trucks and construction. For Jimmy it was going to be his busiest time, for he took on a major role as construction foreman. During the days immediately following Clara Sue's funeral I thought the work and responsibility were to blame for Jimmy's distraction and avoidance of me, but late one morning, while I was reviewing Mr. Dorfman's year-end reports, Jimmy came to my office, and I discovered his behavior was caused by something else.
He had a strange look in his eyes, one I had never seen before. His face was stern, angry, but he looked hurt, in some deep emotional pain. Without speaking he approached the desk.
"I just want straight, truthful answers," he said icily. The cold tones in his voice froze my heart. He put his hands on the desk and leaned toward me, his dark eyes as hard as stone.
"What is it, Jimmy?" I asked, and I held my breath.
"Last week, when you took Christie into Virginia Beach to shop for her clothing, who did you meet?" he demanded.
My heart sank. For a moment I couldn't speak, I couldn't swallow, I couldn't breathe. He fixed his eyes on me with such fury, I was afraid to utter a sound.
"The truth!” he cried, slapping his hand down on the desk. I jumped in my seat.
"Michael," I said. He nodded and turned.
"I was going to tell you, Jimmy. Honest. I just wanted more time to pass," I cried quickly.
