Cutler 1 - Dawn (25 page)

"I want you to knock before you come into my room," I snapped and ground the tears out of my eyes quickly. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hands as I sat up.

"I did knock," she lied, "but you were crying so loud, you couldn't hear me. You don't have to go hungry," she lectured and took another bite of her pastry, closing her eyes to telegraph how delicious it was.

"That stuff will make you even fatter," I said in a sudden burst of nastiness. Her eyes popped open. "I'm not fat," she insisted. I only shrugged. "Pretend what you want, if it makes you happy," I said casually. My tone infuriated her more.

"I'm not pretending. I have a full figure, a mature woman's figure. Everyone says so."

"They're just being polite. How many people have the nerve to tell someone she's fat, especially the owner's daughter?"

She blinked, finding it hard to refute the logic.

"Look at all the clothing you've outgrown, and some of it you hadn't even worn yet," I said, nodding toward my closet. She stared at me, her eyes growing smaller with anger and frustration, making her cheeks look even fuller. Then she smiled.

"You just want me to give you the rest of this so you won't be hungry."

I shrugged again and pulled myself up in the bed to lean back against my pillow. "Of course not," I said. "I wouldn't eat sweets instead of real food."

"You'll see. After a day you're going to be so hungry your stomach will growl and ache," she promised.

"I've been hungry, far hungrier than you've ever been, Clara Sue," I retorted. "I'm used to going without food for days and days," I said, relishing the effect my exaggeration was having on her. "There were days when Daddy couldn't find any work, and we had only a few crumbs left for all of us. When your stomach starts to ache, you just drink loads of water and the ache goes away."

"But . . . this is different," she insisted. "You can smell the food being cooked, and all you have to do to get it is wear the nameplate."

"I won't do it and I don't care anyway," I said with unexpected sincerity. It made her eyebrows lift. "I don't care if I waste away in this bed."

"That's stupid," she said, but she backed up as if I had some infectious disease.

"Is it?" I shifted my eyes to her and glared. "Why did you tell Grandmother Cutler stories about Philip and me? You did, didn't you?"

"No. I just told her what everyone at school knew—that Philip was your boyfriend for a little while, and you and he went on a date."

"I'm sure you told her more."

"I didn't!" she insisted.

"It doesn't matter anyway," I said and sighed. "Please leave me alone." I lowered myself down onto the bed and closed my eyes.

"Grandmother sent me to see if you had changed your mind before she makes a big announcement about you to the staff."

"Tell her . . . tell her I won't change my name, and she can bury me right where she put up the monument," I added. Clara Sue's eyes nearly bulged. She backed into the doorway.

"You're just being a stubborn little brat. No one's going to help you. You'll be sorry."

"I'm sorry already," I said. "Please close the door on your way out."

She stared at me in disbelief and then shut the door and was gone.

Of course, she was right. It would be harder to go hungry here, where there was so much and where the aromas of the wonderful foods threaded their way through the hotel, drawing the guests like flies to the dining room for delicious entrees and sumptuous desserts. Just the thought of it made my stomach churn in anticipation. I thought the best thing to do was to try to sleep.

I was emotionally and mentally exhausted anyway. The rainstorm continued and the musty, damp scent chilled me. I slipped out of my uniform, wrapped my blanket around my body, and turned away from the tear-streaked window. I heard the growl of thunder. The whole world seemed to tremble, or was it just me? After a few moments I fell asleep and didn't wake up until I heard shouting in the hall followed by many loud footsteps. A moment later my door was thrown open, and my grandmother burst in, followed by Sissy and Burt Hornbeck, chief of the hotel's security.

I pulled my blanket around myself and sat up.

"What is it?" I gasped.

"All right," my grandmother snapped and tugged Sissy forward by the wrist so she could stand at her side and face me. Burt Hornbeck stepped up on the other side of her and stared at me. "I want you to say it all in her presence with Burt as a witness." Sissy looked down and then looked up at me slowly, her eyes wide and bright with fear. Yet there was a glint of sadness and pity in them, too.

"Say what?" I asked. "What is this?"

She turned on Sissy.

"You alternated rooms, correct?" my grandmother demanded with a prosecutor's clipped, sharp tone of voice. Sissy nodded. "Speak up," my grandmother commanded.

"Yes, ma'am," Sissy said quickly.

"You took the odd number and she took the even?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then she would have been the one to clean room one-fifty?" she pursued. I looked from her to Burt Hornbeck. He was a stout, forty-year-old man with dark brown hair and small brown eyes. Whenever I had seen him before, he had always smiled warmly at me. Now he looked stern, angry, a moon locked in orbit around my grandmother's blazing face of fury and anger.

"Yes, ma'am," Sissy said.

"So we alternated rooms and I did the even numbers. What does this mean?" I asked.

"Get out of bed," she ordered. I looked at Burt. I was wearing only my bra and panties. He understood and directed his gaze at the window while I rose, keeping the blanket as tightly wrapped around me as I could.

"Are you naked?" my grandmother asked, as if to be so was a sin in her hotel.

"No. I'm wearing underwear. What do you want?"

"I want the return of Mrs. Clairmont's gold necklace, and I want it now," she said, her eyes fixed on me with such fire. She stuck out her palm, her long thin fingers straight.

"What necklace?" I looked at Burt Hornbeck, but he didn't change expression.

"There's no point in denying it now. I have managed to keep Mrs. Clairmont, one of my lifelong guests, I might add, quiet about this entire manner, but I have promised her the return of her necklace. She will get it back," she insisted, her shoulders hoisted, her neck so stiff it looked carved out of marble.

"I didn't take her necklace!" I cried. "I don't steal."

"Sure you don't steal," she said with ridicule and a birdlike nod. "You lived with thieves all your life and you don't steal."

"We never stole!" I cried.

"Never?" She twisted her lips into a cold, sharp mocking smile. My eyes fled before the onslaught of hers. My knees began to click together nervously even though I had nothing to fear. I was innocent. Swallowing first, I repeated my innocence and looked at Sissy. The poor, intimidated girl swung her eyes away quickly.

"Tear this place apart, Burt," she ordered, "from top to bottom until you locate that necklace." Reluctantly he moved toward the small dresser. "It's not here. I told you . . . I swear . . ."

"Do you realize," she said slowly, her eyes now like two hot coals in a stove, "how embarrassing this can be for Cutler's Cove? Never, never in the long and prestigious history of this hotel, has a guest had anything stolen out of his or her room. My staff has always consisted of hardworking people who respect other people's property. They know what it is to work here; they think of it as an honor."

"I didn't steal it," I moaned, the tears now streaming down my cheeks. Mr. Hornbeck had everything out of my drawers and was turning the drawers over. He looked behind them in the dresser, too.

"Sissy," my grandmother snapped, "take her bed apart. Strip off the sheets and pillowcase and turn that mattress over."

"Yes, madam," she said and moved instantly to carry out my grandmother's orders. She gazed up at me, her eyes asking my forgiveness as she began to tear off my bed sheet.

"I won't leave here until I have that necklace back," my grandmother insisted, folding her arms under her small bosom.

"Then you will sleep here tonight," I said. Mr. Hornbeck turned to me, surprised at my defiance, his eyebrows raised in a question mark. I could see the doubt flash across his brow—perhaps I was innocent. He turned to my grandmother.

Her puckered, now prune-colored mouth drew up like a drawstring purse. I watched and waited for her sardonic smile to come and break her parchment skin. I expected her voice to crackle, cackle, witchlike.

"You won't fool anyone with this defiance," she finally said. "Least of all me."

"I don't care what you or anyone else thinks—I didn't steal any gold necklace," I insisted.

Sissy had the bed stripped down. She pulled off the mattress, and Mr. Hornbeck searched under the bed. He looked up at my grandmother and shook his head.

"Look in those shoes," my grandmother told Sissy. She got down on her knees and searched every pair. My grandmother made her sift through all my garments and look in socks and pants pockets while Mr. Hornbeck searched the remainder of the room. When both came up empty-handed, she scrutinized me closely with her suspicious eyes. Then she turned to Mr. Hornbeck.

"Burt, step outside a moment," she said. He nodded and left quickly. At this point I was shivering from the fright and the indignity. My grandmother stepped toward me.

"Drop that blanket," she commanded.

"What?" I looked at Sissy, who was standing on the side looking as frightened as I was.

"Drop it!" she snarled.

I released the blanket and she gazed upon me, giving my body such close scrutiny, I couldn't help from blushing. Her eyes lifted to mine, and I felt as if she were delving the depths of my soul, trying to absorb my very being into her own so she could control me.

"Take off your brassiere," she said. I stepped back, my heart pounding. "If you don't do it now, I'll have to have the police from town come here and take you down to the station for an even more embarrassing strip search. Do you want that?"

Memories of the police station where I had been questioned and told of Daddy's crime returned vividly. I shook my head and my tears flowed again, but she was unfeeling, unsympathetic, her metallic eyes cold and determined.

"I'm not hiding any necklace," I said.

"Then do what I say," she snapped back.

I looked at Sissy, and she looked down, ashamed for me. Slowly I brought my hands behind my back and unfastened my bra. Then I slipped it down my arms and quickly folded my arms across my bosom to shield it from her probing eyes. I stood there trembling. She stepped forward and checked the inside of my bra, of course finding nothing.

"Lower those panties," she said, not satisfied. I took a deep breath. Oh, the horror of her, I thought. I couldn't stop crying. My body shook with sobs.

"I can't stand here all day and wait," she said.

I closed my eyes to block out the embarrassment, and I brought my panties to my knees. As soon as I did so, she demanded I turn around.

"All right," she said. I pulled up my panties and put on my bra. Then I wrapped the blanket around myself again. I was shaking as much as I would had I been left out naked in the middle of a winter storm. My teeth wouldn't stop clicking against each other, but she didn't appear to notice or care.

"If you have hidden this necklace somewhere in this hotel, I will eventually know about it," she said. "Nothing, absolutely nothing happens here without my knowing about it one way or another, one time or another. And this is a unique necklace with rubies and small diamonds. You can't hope to sell it without it being known."

"I didn't take the necklace," I said, holding my sobs back and keeping my eyes closed. I shook my head vehemently. "I didn't."

"If I leave here now, and we discover you have the necklace, I will have to turn you over to the police. Do you understand? Once I leave, I can no longer cover for your crime," she warned.

"I didn't steal it," I repeated.

She pivoted and seized the door handle.

"You can't imagine the embarrassment I have to face now. You are defiant and stubborn, refusing to listen and do the things I have told you. Now thievery has been added to the list. I won't forget it," she threatened. She gazed at Sissy. "Let's go," she said.

"I'm sorry," Sissy mumbled quickly and rushed out after her. I collapsed on my naked mattress and cried until my tears dried up. Then I remade my bed and crawled under the blanket, stunned by the events that had just occurred. It all seemed much More like a nightmare than reality. Had I been dreaming?

The emotional tension exhausted me. I must have drifted off into a sleep of escape, because when I opened my eyes, I saw the rain had stopped, although there was still a wet chill in the air and the world outside was pitch dark—no stars, no moon, just the sound of the wind rushing in and over the hotel and grounds, swishing around the building:

I sat up with my back to the headboard, keeping the blanket wrapped around me. Then I decided to get up and get dressed. I needed to talk to someone and Philip was the first person who came to mind. But when I. went t. open the door, I found it locked. pulled on the handle, disbelieving.

"No!"
I cried.
"Open this door!"

I listened, but all I heard was silence. I turned the handle and pulled. The door wouldn't budge. Being locked in this small room suddenly filled me with panic. I was sure my grandmother had done it to add salt to my wounds, to punish me this way because she hadn't found the necklace in my room as she had expected.

"Someone open this door!"

I pounded the door with my small fists until they grew red and my arms ached. Then I listened. Someone had heard me. I could hear footsteps in the hallway. Maybe it was Sissy, I thought.

"Who's there?"
I called.
"Please, help me. The door is locked."

I waited. Although I didn't hear anyone speak, I sensed someone was there. I could feel someone's presence on the other side of that door. Was it my mother? Or Mrs. Boston?

"Who's there? Please."

"Dawn," I finally heard my father say. He spoke through the crack between the door and the jamb. "Please, unlock the door and let me out," I said.