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"The older it is, the better it is," Aunt Fern said. "Show us the office and we'll have a few drinks and wait for you to get our room ready," she commanded.

"The office is not an office anymore," I said. "It's where Charlotte does her arts and crafts."

"So we'll have our drinks somewhere else. Come on," she said, clapping her hands. "Everyone get moving."

Luther stopped in the doorway with their suit-cases and looked in at us.

"You ain't fixing to stay in this room, are you?" he asked.

"It's all been decided, Luther. Put the bags in here," Aunt Fern said.

Luther looked at Charlotte, saw her pained ex-pression, and shook his head.

"This room's not to be used," he insisted firmly.

"Really? Who are you, the general manager or something?" Aunt Fern said and turned to Morton. They both laughed.

"No one uses this room," Luther simply stated. Fern's eyes grew small and hateful.

"Now look here," she said, stepping boldly up to him. "I happen to know more about you than you think. My brother told me about this place and you," she said sharply. "You're an employee who's been given permission to stay on, but that can change any time." Luther's face grew so hot and red, I thought he might explode.

"Aunt Fern, I'm the one who will change or not change anything," I said. "I'm the one who owns this now."

She smiled coldly at my challenge.

"Doesn't Philip have a part of the estate, too? Not a majority ownership, but still something? Why don't we call him and ask his opinion?" she said, her eyes dancing with glee.

"Don't you threaten her," Gavin said, stepping up beside me. Fern's face flamed red. She whipped her eyes to him and flared them with fury.

"How dare you speak to me like that, Gavin? Does Daddy know where his precious goody-goody son is and what he's been doing? How's your mother going to like all this?" she pursued. Gavin wilted quickly beneath the fire in her voice and eyes. Fern nodded, satisfied with his retreat. "You two have been hazing a pretty good old time of it around here," she said, looking at us. "My advice to you two is to behave if you want to continue having a good time. Anyway," she said, throwing her head back and sticking her hands to her hips, "you should have more respect for your older sister, Gavin; and Christie, show respect for your aunt.

"You never showed me any real respect, never treated me as an aunt should be treated," she complained.

"That's not so, Aunt Fern. I . . ."

"DON'T CONTRADICT ME!" she screamed, her eyes wide. Then she stepped toward me and spoke softly, in a very controlled but hateful tone of voice, spitting her words in my face. "This isn't Cutler's Cove and you're not the princess. We've always had to cater to you. It was always Christie this and Christie that. Did they ever make me a Sweet Sixteen party like the one for you? Or buy me anything I wanted?"

"Mommy and Daddy loved you and treated you well, Aunt Fern," I said, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"Save it. I've heard it before; it's like a broken record. Luther," she said, turning back to him, "my advice to you is to put our suitcases in here pronto. You know what pronto means?"

Luther hesitated, his pride wounded, his anger still boiling over.

"How do you think Philip Cutler is going to react when he hears you've been hiding out two underage teenagers who ran away from their homes?" she followed when he still hesitated. "There'll be a big investigation of you and Auntie Charlotte. Why, newspaper people might even come around to take pictures of the ridiculous decor and what was done to the paintings and walls. Do you want that?" she threatened. Luther's shoulders slumped in defeat and the defiance went out of his eyes. I felt horrible for him.

"That's not true. Luther didn't hide us out. He didn't know any of the details. He has no idea why I ran away or that I ran away. He . . ."

"Who's going to believe that?" Aunt Fern said with a mocking smile. Her face turned firm, her lips so taut I thought they might snap like rubber bands. "Now do I have to repeat myself?" She looked at Luther. He lowered his eyes and lifted her and Morton's bags and carried them into the suite. Aunt Fern relaxed her shoulders. "That's better; that's more like it. Christie, dear, the soap and water?" Aunt Fern sang.

What else could I do? I felt trapped. I didn't want poor Luther and Charlotte to endure any more pain because of me. Aunt Fern was just vicious enough to carry out her threats. I dropped my chin to my chest. Aunt Fern's mean words and accusations stung and drove me to carry out her wishes as quickly as I would had she struck me with a whip across the back.

"I'll help you," Gavin said when I turned to start away.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Charlotte said, scurrying off to do Aunt Fern's bidding, "this is not going to be a nice time. No indeed, not a nice time."

"To the whiskey cabinet," Aunt Fern said, laughing.

"That was a rather impressive show of authority," Morton said, complimenting her. Aunt Fern's laughter trailed behind us.