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"And I don't want anything unpleasant to happen when Bronson and I start anew. 1 hope you will come visit us often, Dawn," she said. "We'll have wonderful dinner parties and invite all the important people in Cutler's Cove. Bronson knows everyone who's anyone."
"We'll see," I said. "When do you intend to leave?"
"Why, I think"—she looked around as if she had forgotten—"I think Bronson will come by late today."
"Today!" I cried, astonished. If it all depended on my attitude, how did she know what I would say and think? I laughed to myself and wondered if it were possible that Bronson did not know how much of a conniver Mother was. Of course, it was possible he did but was willing to live with it, or even believed he could change her. Love makes us all into dreamers, I thought. Or in Mother's case, schemers.
"Yes. So please see if you can find Mrs. Boston for me, will you, Dawn? I want her to help me pack, and I want to tell her how to arrange my things to be moved."
"What about Philip? Have you told Philip?" I asked. Now that it was settled, I couldn't believe how quickly things were going to change.
"Philip? But Philip is still away with his girlfriend and her family," she said. "I'll have to wait to tell him. Or, if he should call while I am in New York, you can tell him," she said.
"Isn't that something you want to tell him yourself'?" I asked.
"News is news," she said, shifting the tray off her lap. "Besides," she added, "Philip never gets terribly excited about anything affecting me. He's a bit too much like his grandmother in that respect," she concluded.
"Very well, Mother," I said. "I'll see about Mrs. Boston."
"Thank you, Dawn. And Dawn," she called as I started out, "thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. You have become quite a young lady."
"I hope you will be happy, Mother," I said. "I really do." I left her scurrying about her room, revived, a resurrected corpse. I couldn't help laughing.
Late in the afternoon Bronson's car pulled up in front of the hotel. By now, because of Mrs. Boston and some of the other members of the hotel staff Mother had drafted to help her prepare for her departure, word had spread throughout the hotel. Everyone in the lobby looked up expectantly when Bronson made his entrance. There was whispering in every corner.
All of Mother's things had been carried down and were at the side of the door in a half dozen suitcases and two large black trunks. The bellhops and Bronson's driver proceeded to load them into his limousine. When I realized Bronson had arrived, I came out to greet him. Mrs. Boston had gone up immediately to tell Mother, as she had requested.
"Well," he said, a little embarrassed by the attention he was receiving, "it looks like we've made the evening news."
"Headline story," I said. "When do you two actually get married?"
"Tomorrow," he replied, shifting his weight from one leg to another and smiling nervously.
"I want to wish you luck," I said, and I offered my hand. "Thank you. I meant what I said yesterday. I hope we will all be family now," he replied.
Before I could respond we heard one of Mother's high-pitched laughs and then saw her make her entrance. Her face radiated happiness and excitement. As she crossed the lobby to join Bronson I saw the way she gazed about, drinking in the curiosity of onlookers like a flower, for the attention only made her blossom more. Bronson held out his hands, and she took them so that he could pull her to him. He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek.
"You look like a fresh spring day," he said.
"Do I?" she asked with obvious false modesty. "I thought I looked horrible from rushing about so much." She turned to me and reached for my hand. I let her take it into hers. She smiled.
"Good-bye, Dawn," Mother said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her face was flushed now and her eyes sparkling.
Gazing into her radiant face, I realized that Mother saw herself escaping. She was getting out from under the shadow of Grandmother Cutler and the weight of all those unpleasant memories. And for a moment I envied her. What had I done to myself by accepting my inheritance and sacrificing my dreams and ambitions?
She hugged me and kissed my cheek.
"Good-bye and good luck, Mother," I whispered.
"We'll call you as soon as we return," Bronson promised. I followed them out the door. Jimmy, who was supervising some work being done on the fountains in the front, came rushing over to shake Bronson's hand. Mother kissed his cheek, and he blushed with embarrassment. Then he stood by my side and watched them get into the limousine.
I saw the way Mother looked up at the hotel. I saw the strange mixture of sadness and ha
ppiness on her face. Tears began to zigzag down her cheeks. Then Bronson embraced her, and she turned into him to bury her face against his neck. Clinging to each other, they drove off . . . two lovers who had missed their moment years and years ago and had somehow found a second chance.
The limousine left the dark shadows cast by the afternoon sun and the hotel. For Mother it was truly as though she had slipped through the fingers of Grandmother Cutler's ghost. Sunlight beamed off the top of the limousine as it turned and disappeared.
"Well, that's that," Jimmy said, embracing me. "Funny," he said, looking around, "old lady Cutler's gone, and poor Randolph's followed in her footsteps. Now your mother runs off to be married and live in that great house, and Clara Sue is sure to live with them."
