The Oldest Sin (6 page)

Glancing at the clock next to her on the nightstand, she saw that it was nearly nine-thirty. Bunny Huffington was supposed to stop by before ten to go over the revisions for tomorrow night’s speech.

Bunny was now a tenured professor of Women’s Studies at White Rock College in Bar Harbor, Maine. She was a no-nonsense New Englander by birth, so Maine suited her just fine. She also remained the philosopher for the organization, writing most of Lavinia’s speeches. Her usual traveling companion, Iris Quinn, hadn’t come along this time. Iris and Bunny had been together for almost twelve years, though Lavinia had recently heard rumors of a breakup. Since Bunny was a very private person, Lavinia knew better than to press her on the subject. Lavinia’s own love life had been something less than stellar. Mainly, she’d had a series of ill-fated love affairs, mostly with totally unsuitable men. She just couldn’t seem to get a handle on personal happiness — that is, until now.

Hearing a loud rap, Lavinia pulled on her bathrobe, unpinned her hair, and swept into the living room. She expected to see Bunny’s smiling face when she answered die door, but instead, a young man in a bellboy’s uniform greeted her.

“Good evening, Ms. Fiore. I was told you had a package you wanted me to deliver downstairs to the safe.”

Of course, thought Lavinia. Where was her mind? She’d called the concierge right after dinner, asking that they send someone up. But that was two hours ago. She raised a carefully plucked eyebrow at the young fellow, about to protest the miserable service. Lavinia was a stickler for punctuality. She also expected to get what she paid for. Part of the price of staying at an exclusive hotel was the special service it could provide. To her mind, at this moment she wasn’t getting it.

“I’m sorry for the delay, Ms. Fiore. There are so many people checking into the hotel right now, it took me an extra hour to get all the bags delivered.”

A poor excuse, thought Lavinia, but then, she didn’t have any difficulty believing him. “See that this doesn’t happen again.” She whipped a hundred-dollar bill out of her bathrobe pocket and handed it to him.

His eyes opened wide. “Yes, ma’am!”

“What’s your name?”

“Elvis.”

She did a double take. “Well, Elvis, I expect to be taken care of while I’m here. I’ll call for you directly if I need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.

“I believe in paying for what I get. But I have high expectations. I expect fresh ice in my room every evening.”

“Of course, Ms. Fiore.”

“Make sure the refrigerator is restocked daily. I drink a lot of grapefruit juice, and I don’t want to run out.”

“Will do.”

“And
three
chocolates on my pillow when the maid comes in to turn the bed down. Not just one.”

“I’ll inform the housekeeping staff.”

“Oh, and speaking of pillows, I have very serious allergies, Elvis. I travel with my own pillows instead of using the standard feather variety that hotels provide. Please see to it that they are aired and replaced on the bed every morning. I won’t tolerate any slipups on this.”

“I understand, Ms. Fiore. Don’t give it another thought.”

She nodded approvingly. “Also, those little butter cookies I found in my room tonight when I arrived were wonderful.”

“We make them in our kitchen.”

“I assumed as much. You know, Elvis, as I think about it I wouldn’t mind having an extra plate of those, too.”

“Your wish is my command, Ms. Fiore.” He stuffed the hundred into his pants pocket.

“I thought it might be.” She smiled back at him. “I think we understand each other now, Elvis. I expect my stay here at the Maxfield Plaza to be a joy.” Bending down, she picked up a sealed, document-sized manila envelope resting next to the door and handed it to him. “I want this put under lock and key as soon as you get downstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If anyone asks, I gave you nothing. You don’t remember any package.”

“But” — he looked unsure — “there’ll be a record of it downstairs. And you’ll receive a receipt with your name on it.”

Hmm. That was a problem. Giving it a few moments’ thought, she said, “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to put another name on the hotel record.”

“Oh, Ms. Fiore, that could get me in real trouble.”

She pulled another hundred from her pocket. “Will this take care of the inconvenience?”

He stared at it for only an instant before plucking it from her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I believe it will. What name do you want me to use?”

Lavinia allowed herself a private smile. “Martha Finchley,” she said without missing a beat. As she watched him jot it down on a notepad, she heard the elevator doors open. Peeking out of her doorway, she saw Bunny at the other end of the hall, steaming in her direction.

“Get out of here,” she whispered, pushing him away. “Don’t use the elevator. Take the stairs down to the floor below us.”

He tipped his cap and disappeared into the stairwell.

“Bunny!” cried Lavinia, throwing her arms around her friend as soon as she’d come within reach. “It’s great to see you!”

Bunny gave Lavinia several thumps on her back and then pulled away. “You look fabulous.”

“As always.” She smiled, standing aside and allowing Bunny to enter.

Bunny Huffington was a short, square woman in her mid-forties, with close-cropped brown hair and a kindly bulldog face. The dark, horn-rim glasses made her look distinctly intellectual, though she was also quite the athlete, engaging in everything from rock climbing to scuba diving. Setting her leather briefcase down on a small end table, she dumped herself wearily into a chair. “I’m exhausted. And you look as fresh as an Oregon peach. Life isn’t fair.” Eyeing her a moment longer, she said, “It’s none of my business, but have you lost weight?”

“Almost thirty pounds.”

“A new diet?”

They both laughed at the absurdity of the notion. Lavinia moved over to the bar to pour drinks. “What do you want? I’ve got Scotch, gin, champagne, brandy, several wines, and the usual sodas and fruit juices.”

“Make it a brandy,” said Bunny, lifting her feet up on a footstool. She was wearing her usual well-worn jeans and chambray shirt. Fashion had never been high on her list of personal imperatives. She continued to stare. When Lavinia handed her the drink she remarked, “Pardon me, but one does not
lose
thirty pounds without a modicum of effort.”

“I suppose you’re right. Would you believe I’ve given up chocolate?”

“Not unless you’ve had a lobotomy.” Bunny opened up her briefcase and removed a stack of papers. Dropping them in her lap, she continued, “I’ve highlighted the changes I made in your speech. Maybe we could go over them now.”

Lavinia nodded, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

“What’s so funny?” asked Bunny, clearly not getting the humor in the situation.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you smiling like such an idiot?”

“Oh, don’t ask so many questions.”

“That’s not an answer,” said Bunny. “Come on, give. What’s going on?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll see
what
?” Her exasperation was showing.

“It’s a surprise,” said Lavinia, sitting down on the couch and leaning back expansively against the cushions.

Any good humor remaining on Bunny’s face was now gone. “I don’t like surprises. You know that.”

“You’ll love these.”

“More than one?”

Lavinia lowered her eyes seductively. ‘Two.”

“Jeez, Lavinia. Why do we always have to play these silly games? Just tell me what’s going on so I can brace myself for the worst.”

“Oh, come on, Bun. You’re ruining my fun. Besides, timing is everything, you know that. And this is neither the time nor the place.”

“For what!”

“Revelation, Bunny dear.”

In exasperation, Bunny downed several gulps of the brandy. “You’re giving me an ulcer, you know that? More than twenty thousand women have signed up for the convention this weekend. We’ve got to give them a good show. Surprises are the last thing we need.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Bunny groaned. “And you know what else? I don’t have a clue why you insisted the Upper Midwest convention be held in St. Paul this year. We’ve always done it in Chicago. It’s been a nightmare to reorganize.”

“St. Paul is better. It’s prettier.”

“That
was your reason?”

“We needed a change. Otherwise, things get stale.” Lavinia switched on the light next to her. “Give me the revisions.”

Bunny handed one set of papers over. “You know, not to belabor the point, but you weren’t the one who had to do the grunt work of reorganizing the event.”

“Meaning you were.”

“Among others, yes.”

“Have I failed to say thank you?”

“Jeez, Lavinia.” She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Sometimes I’m not sure I even like you anymore. You’re so frustrating!”

“I’ve always been frustrating.”

‘True.”

“It never stopped us from being friends before.”

“There wasn’t so much at stake before.”

“Bunny, listen to me for a minute. When you think of all we’ve accomplished together, all the years we’ve been friends, you can’t get angry with me just because I want to keep a couple of secrets.”

“But —”

“Admit it, Bunny. I’m simply too lovable to stay mad at.” She flipped her mahogany hair behind her back and mugged a wounded expression.

Bunny shook her head, her anger dissolving into resignation. “All right. You win.”

“I don’t need to win.”

“Funny, I thought you did.”

“No,” said Lavinia, pulling her robe more snugly around her body. “But it would hurt me a great deal if I thought you were really upset with me.”

Bunny gave a deep sigh. “Good. I’d like to think I provide some sort of check and balance to your shoot-from-the-hip style of leadership.”

“Is that how you see me?” She was intrigued. Bunny had never said anything like that before.

“Let’s just get down to business,” said Bunny, adjusting her glasses and shuffling the pages in front of her.

“First things first,” said Lavinia with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m hungry. What do you say we order something to eat? I just had a bite in the coffee shop a couple of hours ago. Not enough to keep a bird alive.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Lavinia tapped a long red nail to her cheek. “We could start off with some shrimp? Then maybe some nice pate and crusty French bread. For dessert, how about some fresh strawberries and cream?”

“Sounds great.”

“Fabulous.” As she walked over to the phone she said, “Say, what about
after
the opening ceremonies tomorrow night? Have you arranged with the others from the old college gang to meet here for our reunion?”

Bunny laughed. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? After all these years, so many of us in the same city at the same time. What a coincidence.”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“What’s it been? Twenty-three years? How did we get so old? Yes, I talked to Sophie and Cindy last night. They’re both planning to come. Sophie’s even booked us a small room off the main lobby. She said it was usually used as a hospitality suite, but she’s reserved it for the evening and is having a meal catered for us.”

“Good old Soph.” Turning her back to Bunny, she added, “Oh, by the way, Adelle Purdis is coming, too.”

“Adelle?” Bunny sounded truly shocked. “She’s
here?”

“Another coincidence. It seems the entire Purdis clan is in town for Tabernacles Week. Remember that?” Lavinia’s look was amused.

“It’s so weird. All that religious stuff seems so long ago now.”

“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 —”