Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child by authors_sort Read Free Book Online Page A

for some time, even before Mrs. Cutler's passing. Why, you already know much more than he does about the hotel," he added, astounding me.
    "What? I know he behaves strangely sometimes, doing things that don't seem very important, but surely . . ."
    "Mrs. Cutler never gave her son any real responsibilities, Dawn. Why . . . he never so much as made a bank deposit," Mr. Dorfman revealed, and then he started flipping through a folder.
    I sat back and shook my head. I had been hoping to depend on Randolph and really let him do most of the running of the hotel while I concentrated on caring for Christie. The packet of papers in my lap suddenly took on more weight. I couldn't do this. My inheritance wasn't a blessing; it was a burden. I would feel just terrible if I somehow messed things up and all these people working here lost their jobs.
    "Mr. Dorfman, I . . ."
    "I can tell you that you have some very fine, very qualified people working for you, Dawn," Mr. Dorfman said quickly. "Everyone's very efficient. Mrs. Cutler did run a tight ship in that respect. If she didn't make a big profit one year, it was because of the economy, and not because of her business practices or the practices of her subordinates. It was a waste not, want not philosophy. My job is to help you keep to it," he concluded. And then, as if to add a challenge, he sat back and said, "Why, when Mrs. Cutler married Mr. Cutler and became an executive in this hotel, she wasn't much older than you are."
    "Yes, but she had Mr. Cutler," I fired back. He shook his head and twisted his fingers around his pen nervously.
    "I don't think I'm speaking ill of the dead when I tell you your father, Randolph's father, was not much of a hotel administrator. My father was the comptroller here then, so I speak from firsthand knowledge. This hotel didn't really become anything significant until Mrs. Cutler became actively involved.
    "So," he said, eager to leave the topic, "I'll always be available to you. If I'm not here and you need me for anything, anything at all, you have my home phone number at the top of the packet of papers I just gave you."
    I rose from my chair in a daze, thanked Mr. Dorfman and slowly walked out, moving like a somnambulist down the corridor. Where was I going? It suddenly occurred to me that it was time for me to take over Grandmother Cutler's office.
    I paused before her doorway almost as if I had to knock. Then I opened it slowly and stood just inside for a long moment, my heart pounding as if I anticipated her miraculous resurrection. I could almost see her standing firm and tall with her steel-blue hair cut and styled to perfection. She was standing behind her desk as always, her shoulders pulled back firmly in the bright blue cotton jacket she wore over her frilly blouse. She turned her cold gray eyes on me, and in my imagination I even heard her chastisement: "What are you doing here? How dare you enter my office without knocking first?"
    I gazed around. The dark-paneled office still had its lilac scent, everything about it still suggesting Grandmother Cutler, reflecting her austere personality, from the hardwood floors to the tightly woven dark blue oval rug in front of the aqua chintz settee. Her dark oak desk was just the way she had last left it: the pens in their holders, papers neatly piled to one side, a small bowl of hard candies in one corner and the black telephone in another. Her memo pad was open at the center of the desk.
    Firm and resolute, I finally stepped forward and went to the partially opened curtains and pulled the cord to open them wide. Sunlight burst into the office, washing away the shadows that covered her high-back, blood-red, nail-head leather chair, the bookcases and standing lamp. Particles of dust danced in the air. Then I stepped back and looked up at the portrait of Grandfather Cutler, the man who I had learned was my true father.
    It appeared the portrait had been painted in this very office with him at this very