“Not for Adelle. She married the apostle’s son. The hall they rented for services is right downstairs. I, ah —” As she picked up the receiver she once again turned her back to Bunny. “I saw it posted on a list of weekend events as I was walking through the lobby earlier. I thought, what the hell. I’ll check and see if they’re staying here. And sure enough, they are. I called her just a little while ago to see if she’d like to attend.”

  “You actually talked to her?”

  “Why not? We used to be pretty close.” She began punching in the number for room service.

  “But we were thrown out of the church. Officially dis-fellowshipped. She can’t talk to us.”

  Lavinia put her hand over the mouthpiece. “She didn’t seem to think it was a problem.”

  “But —”

  “She said she’d be delighted to attend. Maybe she’s planning to get some sort of papal dispensation.”

  “Wrong church, Lavinia.”

  Laughing, Lavinia placed the order. After hanging up, she returned to the bar to freshen her drink. “Come on, Bunny. Lighten up. I think this little reunion of ours may just prove to be a real night to remember.”

  “You mean like the sinking of the Titanic ?" Bunny set her empty glass down on the table and stared bleakly into the melting ice.

  Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile paled next to Lavinia’s.

  5

  “You mean we’d actually live here free of charge?” said Bram, drawing back the curtains and peering at the downtown skyline. September-morning sunlight streamed in through the high, wide windows, creating pools of light on the beautifully polished hardwood floors.

  Sophie tapped him on the shoulder. “We own the hotel now, dear. Remember? Or at least we will after we sign the papers later this morning.” To be fair, both she and Bram were having trouble getting their minds around the notion that they were now in the hospitality business.

  Ethel, the ancient black mutt who shared their home in south Minneapolis, lumbered out of the kitchen, her head lowered, her expression dour. After casting a baleful eye at the series of windows in the living room, she lurched slowly toward the bathroom.

  “Cute dog,” said Hildegard, patting her immaculate blonde bun. Hildegard O’Malley was a cultured, elegantly turned out St. Paul matron in her early sixties. Sophie assumed that all of her clothing came from Dayton’s Oval Room. Unfortunately, Hildegard also had the permanently surprised expression of a woman who’d undergone one too many face-lifts. “Is she part basset hound?” she asked, staring at the dog incuriously.

  Sophie shrugged. “Actually, we think she’s part tortoise.”

  Bram laughed. “Yeah, she’s a real ball of fire. We keep her around because living with her makes us feel motivated.”

  Sophie walked silently through the spacious rooms, feeling an understandable sense of déjà vu. She’d spent all of her teenage years at the Maxfield. Living here once again would feel like … well, like coming home. Glancing tentatively at her husband, she asked, “Are you sure you’d like it, Bram? We wouldn’t have a yard or a garden.”

  Bram sat down on one of the radiators and smiled serenely. “Oh, that would be a hardship. If I didn’t have to mow grass or shovel snow, what would I do for aggravation?”

  Last night, after the birthday party, the two of them had gone home, uncorked the champagne, and then spent the rest of the evening taking stock of their lives. Being presented with such an amazing gift was too incredible for words, yet, like most life-changing events, it had its downside. Even though Bram had sounded positive at the birthday party, Sophie still wasn’t convinced he thought her desire to run the hotel was such a hot idea. They’d stayed up until nearly three, talking and planning, and finally falling exhausted into bed.

  This morning, as Bram was showering and getting dressed, Sophie had spent some time in the backyard. As she walked around admiring the mums and sipping from a mug of French roast, she realized she was certain of only one thing. Whatever ownership of the historic Maxfield Plaza would mean, she wanted it. Bram might not have any interest in quitting his job, but Sophie did. First thing next week that’s just what she was going to do. She was grateful her father and mother had surrounded themselves with such a varied and competent staff. Hildegard would be her rock until she could get a handle on the daily operations.

  “I have a question,” said Bram, raising a finger.

  “Yes?” said Hildegard, studying him for a moment. “You know, you look a lot like that old actor. I’m terrible with names, but I think he starred in Arsenic and Old Lace”

  “Peter Lorre?” offered Sophie, watching Bram wince. “Or, maybe you mean Raymond Massey.”

  “No,” said Hildegard, closing her eyes in thought. “Cary Grant,” she pronounced. “That’s it. You look just like Cary Grant — especially in his middle years.”

  “Oh? Do you think so?” said Bram. He straightened his tie.

  He was shameless, thought Sophie. And a hopeless flirt. He should rot in hell. “Is this apartment laid out the same as Mom and Dad’s?”

  “They’re similar, though this one is a bit smaller.” Hildegard stepped into the kitchen and switched on the overhead light, allowing a better view of the cupboards. A pantry separated the kitchen from the formal dining room. “But don’t forget, you have the maid’s quarters in the back, with a private entry and an attached sitting room. Very cozy. And another small room off the living room which could easily be used as a study, or a family room. Even a library. Whatever you like.”

  Sophie leaned against the doorjamb, taking it all in. “My son, Rudy, has been living with us since he started at the university. We’d want to make sure we have enough room for him, too.”

  “Yes, he’s a delightful boy,” said Hildegard. “And he’s really taken the Zephyr Club’s kitchen by storm. You must have taught him well when he was a child. I’ve never seen anyone take to chefing the way he has.”

  Sophie nodded and then moved quickly down the hall. She would have loved to have taken credit for her son’s expertise, but the truth was she’d had very little contact with him as he was growing up. Her first husband, Norman Greenway, had been awarded custody after their divorce. She and Norman had spent most of their married life in Montana, where he was the pastor of a local church. The custody battle had been a fait accompli from the outset. Since the town was small, and filled with loyal church members, Norm had no problem finding witness after witness to attest to Sophie’s ungodly character. Lizzie Borden — after the ax murders — would have had an easier time gaining custody.

  From the moment they were officially divorced, Norm took charge of Rudy. He refused almost all of Sophie’s visitation requests. It had been the single most painful experience of her life. Even so, she could never resign herself to the notion that Rudy was gone from her life forever.

  Two years ago, much to her surprise and delight, he had appeared on her Minneapolis doorstep, asking if he could stay with her while he attended the University of Minnesota. Sophie was thrilled. Yet, thinking back on that time now, she remembered their first few months together as terribly awkward. They were mother and son, but they knew virtually nothing about each other. It took her nearly the entire winter to get him to open up, to tell her the full story of why he’d left Montana.

  It seemed that Rudy had defied his father’s wish that he attend Purdis Bible College, and instead he’d come to Minnesota to pursue a degree in theatre arts. He wanted to be an actor. The real bottom line was, Rudy was gay. He knew if he stayed in Montana with his father, or attended the church’s college, he’d have to hide that part of himself for the rest of his life. While he couldn’t give up all his beliefs, he also couldn’t see living a lie. So he’d come to Minnesota to get away, to think matters through, to find his own path. It had been a hard two years. Yet now Sophie felt she’d finally connected with her son. They were becoming closer all the time. Wherever she and Bram ended up living, there had to be room for Rudy, too.

  “I know Rudy could get used to living here,” said Bram, walking up behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder. “The fact is, I’m more worried about Ethel.” He pulled a badly chewed green tennis ball out of his pocket, leaned down, and rolled it down the hall.

  On cue, Ethel dragged herself out of the bathroom, sniffing the air.

  “Say, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Sophie. “Would that be a problem? I know the Maxfield doesn’t allow pets.”

  “I hardly think so,” said Hildegard with a shrug. “After all, it is your hotel now. You make the rules.”

  True, thought Sophie. She liked this newfound power. Not that she wanted to abuse it. She was still the novice innkeeper. Even though she’d watched her parents running the place most of her life — even worked on the front desk when she was in high school — she still needed Hildegard’s constant guidance. “It wouldn’t cause a problem with the other guests?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. There are lots of hotels that have a house pet. The Algonquin in New York has a cat that sits in the lobby, but the hotel doesn’t allow cats or dogs in the rooms. If you want Ethel to live with you, don’t give it another thought. We could even enshrine her downstairs on her own pillow.”

  Ethel raised her head and gave Hildegard a suspicious look “I think she likes it here,” said Bram. “Do you like it here, girl?” He bent down and scratched the short fur on her back. Ethel closed her eyes, giving in to the ecstasy of the moment. “See? She wants to stay.”

  “This penthouse apartment isn’t quite as grand as the one your parents have,” continued Hildegard. “But I have strict orders not to touch theirs while they’re gone. When they get back from their trip, they’ll have to decide if they want to continue to live here, or move somewhere else.”

  Sophie couldn’t imagine her parents living anywhere but the Maxfield. Besides, if they wanted to continue to be world travelers, this would provide the perfect home base.

  “The rest of the apartments are already rented.”

  “How many apartments are there?” asked Bram.

  “Four in die north tower, and three in the south. The rest are regular hotel rooms and suites. Not many hotels offer apartment living anymore. It’s more or less a thing of the past”

  Sophie walked over to the front door, opened it, and then looked both ways down the hall. All was quiet. The guest suite at the opposite end of the hall was the same one she’d seen Howell Purdis enter from the balcony last night. She’d checked the hotel computer this morning just to make sure. Sure enough, Purdis was registered. Hugh and Adelle were in the connecting suite.

  It was so incredibly strange, seeing Howell Purdis again after all these years. They’d stared at each other across the expanse that divided the towers until the rain had driven them indoors. Had he recognized her? It seemed unlikely he’d remember a student from so long ago. After doing a little further checking, she’d found that the Church of the Firstborn was holding its annual Tabernacles Week services downstairs in the Lindbergh Room. It was quite a coincidence when combined with the fact that this was the same weekend she and three other friends from Purdis Bible College had planned a reunion. Sophie hadn’t stayed in regular contact with any of them. She’d kept all reminders of her onetime association with the church to a minimum. Yet now, since Rudy had returned to her life, she felt she’d be able to approach her old friends with some kind of equanimity. A little reminiscing might even be fun.

  Closing the door, Sophie could see that Hildegard and Bram were now in one of the bedrooms, discussing the recent removal of the Maxfield Plaza’s last Murphy bed. Stepping over to the doorway, she asked, “Hildegard, do you know who booked the Church of the Firstborn in here this weekend?”

  Hildegard gave an involuntary shudder. “Alan Bergman. He’s the banquet manager. But since he was ill yesterday, I ended up talking to the head of the group myself. Just between the three of us, that elderly man is a first-class nutcase. He wanted me to give him the room free of charge!”

  This was a new one, thought Sophie. She never remembered Howell Purdis demanding charity before.

  “And then,” continued Hildegard, “when I said no, he started quoting scripture. Before he left, he cursed the hotel. Can you believe it?”

  “He did what?” exclaimed Bram, easing his foot out from under the dog. “Isn’t this just our luck? We inherit a perfectly normal hotel and now we find out someone’s placed a curse on it.”

  Sophie could tell he was joking, but something about the story left her feeling uneasy. Surely she didn’t put any stock in that old man’s ravings anymore. Did she?

  Hildegard continued, “Believe me, I told that man in no uncertain terms what he could do with his threats. I was ready to cancel the entire event when I got a call from a fellow named Knox.”

  “Isaac Knox?” asked Sophie.

  “Yes. Late yesterday afternoon. He apologized so profusely, what could I do? And,” she added, touching the pearls at her neck, “since I could tell this fellow had both his oars in the water — pardon my language — I told him I’d let it go, as long as it never happened again. My feeling is, another scene like that and he and his church can find another conference facility.” She gave her head an annoyed twist. “You know, I had that older gentleman pegged right from the start. As soon as I set eyes on him, I knew he was part of a cult.”

  That cult, as Hildegard referred to it, was also one of the top money-grossing religious organizations in the country. Sophie felt it wasn’t the time to mention she’d once been a member.

  “Well,” said Bram, hoisting Ethel into his arms, “we better shove off or we’re going to be late. We don’t want to keep the lawyers and your parents waiting.”

  Sophie gave a quick nod. “Right”

  Hildegard walked them to the door. “We’ll be repainting the apartment in the next couple of weeks. If you do decide to take it, you might want to sit down with our decorator and choose your own colors.”

  “Thanks,” said Sophie. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Breezing down the hall toward the elevators, Bram leaned close to Sophie and whispered, “Say, honey, do you think your dad would reduce the price of this place if he knew it was cursed?”

  She looked at him and rolled her eyes.

  “No really. Maybe we should rethink our offer. What do you say we start by putting fifty cents on the table? We can always come up to seventy-five.”

  6

  An annoying buzz pulled Hugh back to consciousness. Dropping a heavy hand over the alarm, he nearly knocked the small clock radio onto the floor. He hated mornings. He never rose rested and refreshed, only resigned that another day had begun. As he turned over on his back, hoping for a few more minutes of peace, a shadow fell across his eyes. Sensing a threat, he sat bolt upright in bed and peered around the darkened bedroom. His father was creeping soundlessly toward the curtains. An instant later the bright morning sunlight struck him square in the face.

  Adelle sat up, too, grabbing a blanket and drawing it up to her chin. “Howell! What’s going on?”

  “A meeting! Now! This minute. My son and I need to talk.” He said the words hurriedly and with an urgency that bordered on the comic. He was completely dressed, wearing his fedora pulled rakishly over his forehead. The hat made him look as if he’d come straight out of a 1930s cops-and-robbers movie. This morning, however, something new had been added. A series of feathers — short, long, fluffy, multicolored, striped — had been tucked in all the way around the headband. Some looked as if they’d been found. Others could only have been bought.

  Adelle and Hugh exchanged puzzled glances.

  Just last week, Hugh had discovered his father outside his Glendale home, searching through the flower beds. When he’d asked him what he was doing, his father had replied that he was tracking birds. Now he understood why — at least, partially.

  “Dad, you can’t just come into our bedroom like this.” He tried to keep his voice calm, though he was completely nonplussed.

  “Keep it down,” whispered Howell, pressing a finger to his lips.

  “As long as I live, I’ll never share a connecting suite with that man again,” said Adelle, grabbing her bathrobe and yanking it on. “You do something about him. Nobody else can.

  Howell quickly made himself comfortable in one of the leather armchairs. “Order us some breakfast,” he said, watching her thin frame stomp out of the room.

  “Order your own breakfast,” she said, slamming the door.

  Smoothing the brim of his hat, Howell removed it and placed it carefully on top of the table next to him. Then, leveling his gaze, he said, “Because she’s a member of this family, I’ve made certain allowances for her over the years, but I will not stand for this blatant disrespect any longer. She’s your wife. You do something about it!”

  Hugh swung his feet out of bed and stared at the floor. Sometimes he felt as if his head were in a vise. Howell was on one side, his wife, the church, his own desires — or even his own sense of right and wrong — on the other. Absently, he wondered just how long a man could be squeezed before he burst.

  “Look at me when I speak to you, Hugh.”

  Hugh’s head popped up. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. He was nearly sixty years old, yet something about the look in his father’s eyes always shrank his self-confidence to the size of a pea. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Good. Very good. Now. I just received information about a serious matter, something that needs our immediate attention.” He removed a pack of papers from his suit-coat pocket. “The report I’ve been waiting for was delivered to me a few minutes ago.”

  “What report?” said Hugh, shuffling into the bathroom. Bracing his arms on the sink, he gazed up at his aging face, raking a hand through his gray hair. He didn’t look much like his dad. He knew that in some odd way, his father held him responsible for that. Fathers and sons should look alike. The spirit of the boy came from his father, or at least that’s what Howell Purdis taught. And the firstborn spirit was the strongest, the most holy. That’s why God used only firstborn males as ministers.