The Oldest Sin (4 page)

Bram gave a small bow.

“Come on,” said Sophie, hoping no one had seen her blush. “We’re going to be late.”

Two hours later, after finishing the birthday dinner catered by the Zephyr Club, the four-star restaurant located near the top of the Maxfield’s south tower, Sophie and Bram took their after-dinner coffee and strolled into the living room. They stood for a moment next to the windows, looking out at the sprawling Mississippi River fifteen stories below them. An occasional burst of lightning illuminated the darkening sky, though the storm was still a fair distance away.

“Time to open presents,” called Henry Tahtinen, Sophie’s father, herding everyone into the living room.

After singing “Happy Birthday” — some singing in Finnish and some in English — and blowing out all the candles, Sophie and her mother sat down on the couch to open presents. The entire family had been invited to the Tahtinens’ private residence at the top of the south tower. There was Bram’s daughter, Margie. Her boyfriend, Lance. Rudy, Sophie’s son, had skipped one of his classes at the university in order to attend. His friend and lover, John Jacobi, was also in attendance. And Sophie’s Aunt Ida, her uncle Harry, and her cousin Sulo had all driven down from Bovey, a small town in northern Minnesota.

As the gifts were opened, Henry and Pearl beamed at each other across the brightly wrapped presents. After forty-five years of marriage, they were still very much in love. Pearl and Sophie were the same height — five-foot-two — and both had roundish figures that tended to overweight. Pearl’s hair had gone completely gray many years ago, while her husband’s had remained brown, with just a bit of salt and pepper around the temples. They both looked radiantly happy tonight. Too radiantly happy, thought Sophie. She wondered what was up.

Finally, after all the presents were oohed and aahed over and the hilarity had died down, Sophie’s father called for quiet. Making his usual grand birthday gesture, he walked up and handed his wife an envelope. Then, stepping over to his daughter, he dropped a similar envelope into her lap.

“Your turn first,” he said, nodding to his wife.

Pearl blushed. “Oh, Henry. You shouldn’t have. I just know it’s much too expensive.”

“If a man can’t buy his wife a damn fine present on her sixty-fifth birthday, what good is he?” He winked at Bram.

Pearl slipped a brochure out of the envelope. “What is it?” She gasped as she read the writing on the front cover. “Henry! This is too much!”

“It’s what we’ve talked about for years, Pearlie. We’re not waiting any longer.” He stuck his cigar back into his mouth.

“What is it?” asked Sophie, attempting to restrain her curiosity. It wouldn’t be appropriate to rip the paper out of her mother’s hand, not that it hadn’t occurred to her.

“It’s” — Pearl’s eyes grew round with wonder as she looked from face to face — “a round-the-world trip!”

“We’ll be gone four months,” said Henry, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. “Four wonderful, relaxing months.”

“But… how can you do that, Henry?” protested Cousin Sulo. “You’ve got a hotel to run.”

Henry’s eyes gleamed at his wife. “Oh, I’m a resourceful man.”

“Open your present now, Sophie,” suggested Pearl, smiling amiably.

Sophie didn’t need coaxing. She slid a legal-looking document out of the envelope.

“What’s it say?” asked Sophie’s son, Rudy. He was standing behind the bar, sipping from a can of Coke. John stood next to him, a look of intense interest on his face.

As she read the cover sheet Sophie’s jaw dropped open. She looked up, handing it across to Bram.

Bram studied it for only a second before his own jaw dropped. “I don’t understand, Henry.”

“What don’t you get?” He flicked ash somewhat impatiently into an ashtray.

“You’re giving Sophie and me the hotel?”

“For tax purposes, I’m selling it to you,” he corrected. “For the sum of one dollar. You’ve got a buck between you, don’t you?” His smile was sly.

“But, Dad?” said Sophie. “You can’t just —”

“I can do anything I damn well please! I’m sixty-nine next January. I’ve got plenty of money in the bank. So I asked myself, what am I still working for? It’s time to retire. Your mom and I deserve to spend some time having fun. Kicking up our heels. Not that this hotel doesn’t still mean the world to both of us. That’s why we’re giving it to you two. Soph, you grew up here. This place is in your blood.”

It wasn’t that she disagreed. It was just that the idea of owning the Maxfield was a little
rich
for her blood. She always assumed that when the time came for her parents to retire, they would sell.

“You worked here until you went to college,” continued Sophie’s father. “And Rudy’s already working part-time in the kitchen helping our pastry chef. From what I hear, he’s a natural. Think of it as the family business. Bram will learn. Running the place will be a piece of cake. Besides, we’ve got the best staff in the business. I’ve talked to Hildegard O’Malley. She’s going to take over for me until you’re both up to speed.”

This was so much like her dad, thought Sophie. Impetuous. Generous. Imperious. He always figured he knew what was best — for everyone.

“Day after tomorrow, your mother and I are off for Helsinki. From there, it’s wherever the wind takes us.”

“Ah, dear, I believe we go to St. Petersburg next,” said Pearl Tahtinen, glancing at the brochure.

“Whatever,” he grunted. “I have absolute confidence that, if we keep this a family affair, the Maxfield will be in competent hands.”

Sophie caught Bram’s eye. She wasn’t sure how he was taking all this, but his good humor seemed to be holding. Even so, he couldn’t help looking a bit bemused.

“I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about,” said Sophie’s mom in a kindly tone. “While your dad and I set up the projector so that we can show our slides of the trip we took to Florida last April, why don’t you two step outside for a breath of fresh air?”

“Good idea,” said Bram, shooting to his feet.

Sophie followed him out through the French doors onto a balcony that overlooked the Mississippi River.

The evening air was heavy with the threat of rain. The sky had turned a funny yellow-gray, pretornadic light in Sophie’s lexicon of Minnesota weather lore. Severe weather this late in the year was rare, though not impossible. As she sank into one of the metal patio chairs, she could hear the rumble of thunder. The storm was close now. She waited a few moments more as Bram paced in front of her, giving him some time to think. Finally, she asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Your father has quite a talent for turning lives upside down.” His good humor was gone.

“I agree,” she said softly. “This doesn’t exactly fit into our dream of someday moving away.” She paused, then’ added, “You know, someplace romantic. Like the oil fields of Iraq. The crocodile-infested Everglades.”

“Very funny.”

“The peaceful hills and vales of Afghanistan?” Even her humor had grown tentative.

He stopped and looked down at her. “We’d be crazy, Sophie, to turn this down.”

“I know.”

“Very few people have ever been handed a multimillion-dollar hotel.”

‘True.”

“Then why do I feel like I’ve just been hit by a truck?”

She shook her head. “Ditto.”

“Don’t say ditto. It gives me heartburn.”

“Sorry.”

“I won’t quit my job at the station, Sophie. You need to understand that up front.”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t have to.”

He stared at her. “You want this, don’t you?” It was less a question than a perception.

Looking up into his deep green eyes, she realized how much she really did want it. “Yes,” she said, taking hold of his hand. She left it at that, waiting.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled her up into his arms and whispered close to her ear, “Maybe
this
is our adventure. We’ll never know where the train is going unless we hop on for the ride.” He nuzzled her hair. “I love you, Sophie. Happy birthday.”

She hugged him with all her might, then stood back and gently brushed a lock of his chocolate-brown hair away from his forehead. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You paid your dues with your first husband, remember? Anybody would look good compared to Norman Abnormal.”

“Not true.” Again, she eased into his warm embrace, feeling his strong arms wrap around her. They were good together. Both of them smart, able to stand alone, but both also knowing the value of tenderness, of someone to lean on when times got rough. As she looked over his shoulder toward the north tower, she saw a figure move out onto the balcony directly across from them. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it was the same man she’d seen coming out of the Maxfield only a few hours before.

“Bram, look!” she said, drawing away from him. She stepped over to the railing.

Bram walked up beside her just as a lightning flash illuminated the man’s face.

“It
is
Howell Purdis,” she whispered. “I’m sure of it.”

“The head of that church you used to belong to?”

“Yeah. This is too amazing.”

As the thunder cracked loudly over their heads the man, his expression austere and unsmiling, lifted his hat in greeting.

Across the way, inside one of the luxury suites at the top of the north wing, Adelle Purdis emerged from the bathroom wearing a thick white cotton robe — compliments of the Maxfield Plaza — and drying her long red hair on one of the equally thick bath towels. The flight in from L.A. had been tiring. Now, moving slowly about the elegant living room, she noticed her father-in-law, Howell Purdis, standing outside on the balcony. From the sound of thunder, she assumed the storm that had been threatening for several hours was just about on top of them. Perhaps it was already raining. Adelle had no confidence at all that Howell Purdis had the sense to come in out of the rain. As far as she was concerned, the old guy was losing his marbles. She found it a pity that not one of the spineless wonders who called themselves ministers in the Church of the Firstborn had the guts to point that little problem out to him.

As she passed in front of the sofa on her way to the wet bar, there was a loud rap on the door.

“Will you get that?” called Hugh Purdis. Her husband was sitting on the bed in the bedroom typing something into his laptop computer. It was a standard issue. All evangelist-rank ministers were given the same one. Although Hugh looked like he was working, he was probably playing one of his many computer games. It was what he did for relaxation these days — and for escape. She couldn’t blame him. Over the years the stress of being Howell Purdis’s firstborn son and heir to the church leadership had taken its toll. While Adelle wanted her own firstborn son to one day assume his rightful place as spiritual head of the church, she’d developed a plan to shield him from the worst of the pressure.

The Church of the Firstborn was clearly the work of one periodically egomaniacal man. Even so, deep in her heart, where only God the Father could enter, she’d felt the hand of God. For all the evil and human weakness inherent in this worldwide work, she truly believed she’d found God’s one true church on earth.

Since its beginning in 1933, Howell Purdis had created a stunningly Machiavellian organization, full of secrets and ever-changing alliances. The governing principle was power: hierarchical, authoritarian, absolute. The members of the ministry, from lowly church elders all the way up to evangelist-rank ministers, were constantly vying for favor and status. As far as Howell Purdis was concerned, he
was
die Church of the Firstborn. He set the tone, made the rules, and meted out the rewards and the punishment. Yet as he had begun to sink into a kind of madness, so had the organization.

Pulling open the door, she was surprised to find Isaac Knox, pastor of the church in St. Louis, standing before her, a furious look on his face.

“I need to speak to your husband,” he said curtly. He didn’t wait for an invitation but instead pushed past her into die room.

“Hello, Isaac. It’s nice to see you again, too,” said Adelle, her smile a little too cheerful to be anything other than snide.

“Sorry,” said Isaac. “This is important.” The years had treated Isaac Knox rather badly, thought Adelle. Gone was die lean build and rugged face. At fifty-one, he had the ancient, weary eyes of a man who had seen far too much strife in his life. Even though most women would probably find him attractive, even distinguished, Adelle saw only wreckage.

Hugh Purdis breezed out of the bedroom, his smile at high beam. “Isaac,” he said, moving into his deep ministerial voice. “Great to see you again. It was good of you to stop by. I left a message for you at the front desk just after we arrived. I don’t think you’d checked in yet.” His gaze swept over the room. “This is a wonderful place. Father’s very impressed. I’m glad you suggested this hotel and set everything up. You did a wonderful job. Top-notch. The adjoining suites are quite large and comfortable.”