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
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
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