Cutler 1 - Dawn by V.C. Andrews Page B

find something better."
    "Yeah, well," he said, looking at the houses along the streets in my neighborhood, "for your sake I hope that's not much longer. Don't you have any family here?" he asked.
    "No. Our family is all in Georgia, on farms," I replied. "But we haven't seen them for a while because we've been traveling a lot."
    "I've taken trips here and there," he said, "but summers, when most of the other kids go off to Europe or to other parts of the country, I have to remain in Cutler's Cove and help with our hotel," he said, smirking unhappily. He turned to me.
    "It's expected that someday I'll be the one to take it over and run it."
    "How wonderful, Philip."
    He shrugged.
    "It's been in our family for generations. It was started as just an inn way back when there were whalers and fishermen from everywhere. We've got paintings and all sorts of antiques in the attic of the hotel, things that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. Our family's just about the most important one in town, founding fathers."
    "It must be wonderful to have all of that family heritage," I said. He caught the note of longing in my voice.
    "What were your ancestors like?"
    What would I tell him? Could I tell him the truth—that I hadn't ever seen my grandparents, much less known what they were like? And how could I explain never seeing or knowing or ever hearing from any cousins, uncles, or aunts?
    "They were . . . farmers. We used to have a big farm with cows and chickens and acres and acres," I said, but I looked out my window when I said it. "I remember riding on the hay wagon when I was just a little girl, sitting up front with my grandfather, who held me in his arm while he held on to the reins. Jimmy would be in the hay, looking up at the sky. My grandfather smoked a corncob pipe and played the harmonica."
    "So that's where your musical talent comes from."
    "Yes." I continued spinning the threads of my fantasy, nearly forgetting as I went on that my words were as false as false could be. "He knew all the old songs and would sing them to me, one after the other, as we went along in his wagon, and at night, too, on the porch of our big farmhouse, while he rocked and smoked and my grandmother crocheted. The chickens would run loose in the front yard, and sometimes I would try to catch one, but they were always too fast. I can still hear my grandfather laugh and laugh."
    "I don't really remember too much about my grandfather, and I've never been very close to my grandmother. Life's more formal at Cutler's Cove," he explained.
    "Turn here," I said quickly, already regretting my lies.
    "You're the first girl I've driven home," he said.
    "Really? Philip Cutler, is that the truth?"
    "Cross my heart. Don't forget, I just got my license. Besides, Dawn, I can't lie to you. For some reason, it would be like lying to myself." He reached over and stroked my cheek so softly I could barely feel the tip of his finger. My heart dipped. Here he was being so thoughtful and truthful, and I was making up stories about my imaginary family, stories that made him sad about his own life, a life I was sure had to be a thousand times more wonderful than
    "Down this street," I pointed. He turned onto our block. I saw him grimace when he saw the cluttered lots and the sloppy front yards. "That's our apartment building just ahead, the one with the toy red wagon on the sidewalk?'
    "Thank you," I said as soon as he pulled up.
    He leaned over to kiss me, and when I leaned toward him, he brought his hand up to my breast again. I didn't pull away.
    "You taste real good, Dawn. You're going to let me take you for another ride soon, right?"
    "Yes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I gathered my books into my arms quickly.
    "Hey," he said, "what's your telephone number?"
    "Oh, we don't have a phone yet," I said. When he looked at me strangely, I added, "We just didn't get around to it yet."
    I got out of the car quickly and ran to my front door, positive he saw through