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"Uh-huh," Christie said, sitting up quickly. Her golden hair had grown down below her shoulders. "It's Aunt Bet," she said, and from that day forward it would be the way she would refer to Betty Ann. We both laughed about it.
"Your house is so beautiful," Betty Ann said. "Good luck with it."
"Thank you. I'm sorry the weather was so poor in Provincetown on your honeymoon," I said.
"Poor? It wasn't poor, it was magnificent every day. Some days there were hardly any clouds at all, and I was surprised at how warm the ocean was."
"What about the hotel in Cape Cod?" I asked, to confirm my suspicions.
"Oh, everything was beautiful. I didn't want to leave, but Philip got itchy and said he hated just lying around all day. He's so devoted to Cutler's Cove. I could see he regretted not being here when it's so busy, so I didn't complain when he asked to come home a day early.
"I think he was also very eager to see your home all finished and you and Jimmy actually living in it," she added.
We returned to the sitting room, where Jimmy and Philip had our champagne toast ready. After everyone took a glass, Philip raised his and said, "To Jimmy and Dawn's new home. May it be the place where dreams come true." Thoughtfully, with narrowed eyes, he stared at me and waited until I
brought my glass to my lips. Then he drank.
"You know," Philip said, gazing around and nodding, "the idea of living outside the hotel is probably a very good one. You do feel more like real people with your own private life. Even when Grandmother Cutler was alive guests would wander into the family section.
"Maybe one day soon Jimmy and I can pace out a lot nearby," he added, fixing his eyes on me. His smile was small and tight, amused. He was toying with me and toying with his own passions.
"I hate to be the one to say it, but it's getting late," I said, "and we have another big check-in tomorrow. I have to be at the hotel early."
"And so do I, then," Philip echoed. He rose quickly and said good night. "Somehow," he added, gazing at me with those deep blue eyes twinkling, "I feel as if Betty is right: We're all about to start new lives."
"Well, what do you think?" Jimmy asked me when he returned from showing them out. We started upstairs. "Do they look like a happily married new couple?"
"I suppose," I said.
"You should have heard him talking about her when you were showing her the house," he said. "It got downright embarrassing at times."
"What do you mean?"
"I asked him why he returned home early from his honeymoon, and he said he was simply exhausted."
"Exhausted?" I paused on the stairway. Jimmy widened his eyes and shook his head.
"He went into great detail about their lovemaking, about how hungry Betty Ann was for sex and passion. I don't know why he wanted to tell me all those intimate details about her, do you?"
"No," I said. "And I don't think it's very nice of him to do that."
"It was almost as if—"
"What?" I asked quickly.
"As if he was trying to get me to do the same thing . . . compare notes or something. Locker-room talk," Jimmy said, shaking his head. "I never thought Philip was that type."
"Did you . . . say anything?"
Jimmy smiled.
"As far as he knows," Jimmy said, "you're a nun and I'm a monk." He embraced me and kissed me on the neck.
I had to laugh, but my laughter was more of relief than of amusement.
After Philip and Betty Ann moved into the family section of the hotel, things settled down. Our work kept us occupied. The hotel was having one of its best seasons in recent history. Grandmother Cutler had never really advertised the hotel in any magazines or newspapers. Her philosophy was that the hotel had its own special reputation and would exist solely on that and on word of mouth. For a long time that was sufficient, but as a new generation of vacationers came into existence I thought it was necessary to appeal to them, so I talked Mr. Dorfman into advertising Cutler's Cove in some travel magazines and big-city papers. We had immediate results—new bookings, inquiries from new travel agents and a boost in our income. For the first time in a long time Mr. Dorfman mused aloud about the possibility of expanding the hotel—adding on rooms and new facilities. I told him about the frequent inquiries I was getting from organizations looking for convention sites.
"That was something Mrs. Cutler would never do," Mr. Dorfman reminded me. "She thought it took away from the nature of Cutler's Cove."
