Sometimes David had to remind himself that Paula was not yet twenty-five, as he did at this moment, struck as he was by her maturity and her keen understanding of complex business matters. As he absorbed her words he observed her closely, noting for the second time in the last hour her elegance and refinement. He never thought of Paula as being beautiful, and she was not, at least not in the accepted sense, because of her somewhat angular features, broad forehead and strong jawline. Rather, she was arrestingly attractive with her vividness of colouring, her translucent complexion and her superb grooming. Yes, it’s her immense elegance, he thought, that’s undoubtedly what draws all eyes to her. For the half-hour they had been in Ziegi’s he had not failed to miss the discreet glances directed at them from time to time. He wondered, with a small flicker of amusement, if they thought she was his young mistress.
Detecting the laughter playing around his eyes, Paula abandoned the point she was making and leaned forward. ‘What’s so funny, Daddy?’
He flashed a wide grin. ‘I’m the envy of the men in this room…they most probably think you’re my girlfriend.’
She shrugged, smiled, eyeing him objectively. If the other diners did harbour such a thought it was not so farfetched really. At fifty-one her father was a good-looking man whom women found attractive and appealing. He had a strong, well-bred face, fine clear eyes, and a head of dark wavy hair tinged at the sides with grey that did nothing to age him. He was athletically inclined, skied and played squash in winter, took to the tennis courts in summer, and in consequence he was in excellent physical shape. Fastidious about his appearance, he was always beautifully dressed, a characteristic she knew she had inherited from him.
David was saying, ‘You do look lovely tonight, Paula. The dress has great style. Black has always suited you, of course. Still, few women could carry it off as well as you do. It is rather severe, and –’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Very much so.’ He studied the Egyptian-style gold collar that encircled her long neck and partially filled out the squared neckline of the long-sleeved wool dress. Nefertiti, he said under his breath. Aloud he remarked, ‘I’ve never seen you wearing the collar before. It’s beautiful, rather striking, in fact. Is it new? A gift from Jim?’
Paula smiled mischievously, dropped her voice. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but it’s a piece of costume jewellery. From Harte’s. I’m sure it’s not even brass, and it’ll probably turn colour in no time at all. But when I saw it I knew it was perfect for this dress. It gives it a bit of a dash, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I would indeed.’ He made a mental note to talk to the jewellery buyer tomorrow, decided to have the collar copied for Paula for her Christmas gift. He was usually at a loss to know what to give her for anniversaries and special occasions. She was not overly fond of jewels or other baubles and because of her highly individual taste it was difficult to shop for her successfully.
As the dinner progressed David and Paula touched on many topics of mutual interest, but eventually Paula brought the conversation back to business. Slowly, but with her usual self-assurance, she began to outline an idea she had for the stores.
David sat up straighter in the chair, listening alertly, intrigued by her concept, which showed an intuitive understanding of the buying public. And like so many really clever ideas it was rooted in simplicity. He wondered why no other retailer had ever thought of it.
Paula said, ‘You’ve got a peculiar look on your face. Don’t you think it will work?’
‘On the contrary, I think it will be a tremendous hit. Expand on it further for me please, Paula.’
She did so, finished, ‘But it would have to be a completely self-contained shop within the store.’
‘You’d need a whole floor?’
‘Not necessarily. Half a floor should work very well. I thought there could be three separate salons. One selling suits, plus shirts and blouses, another for coats and dresses, and a third salon offering shoes, boots and handbags. The key, of course, is having the individual salons adjoining each other, so that a woman can co-ordinate a complete outfit quickly and easily without having to trundle up and down to other floors searching for different items. It will save mistakes, not to mention time, for the shopper. And with an imaginative advertising campaign and some clever promotion I think we can do tremendous business.’ She sat back, watching him through keenly attentive eyes.
‘It’s excellent. Yes, I’m enthusiastic. Any ideas about a name for this total shop of yours?’
‘There are several very obvious ones, Daddy, such as Working Woman or Career Woman. However, I’ve already dismissed those as being far too prosaic. We need a name that expresses exactly what we are about. We must put over the concept that we are selling clothes – good, well-designed clothes – to working women with business and professional careers, that we are offering a special service since we’re making their task of putting a wardrobe together so much easier.’
‘What about Career Cachet?’ David suggested.
‘Not bad.’ Paula frowned. ‘Is it too much in the other direction? Too fancy perhaps?’ she asked, thinking aloud, and before he had a chance to reply went on, ‘I thought of Career Club when I was driving to London this afternoon. But I’m not sure if that says what I want to say. Well, right now the name doesn’t really matter. The main thing is to get the career shop into work. So…do I have your blessing?’
‘Naturally you do, although you don’t really need it.’ David’s eyes twinkled as he reminded her, ‘The Harte chain is yours, Paula, lock, stock and barrel, and you are managing director.’
‘But you’re the chairman of the board,’ she shot back. ‘And therefore you’re still my boss.’
‘You always did have to have the last word, didn’t you?’ he murmured, and could not help thinking: as Emma always does.
‘Sorry I’m late getting back,’ Paula apologized as she hurried into the executive offices at the Knightsbridge store on Wednesday afternoon at five minutes to three.
‘How was your meeting with Henry Rossiter?’ Gaye asked, rising, following Paula into the palatial Georgianstyle office that bore Emma’s inimitable stamp.
‘No problems. We spent most of the time reviewing Grandy’s other holdings. We hardly touched on the Irish mess, gave it only a few minutes after our business session. When we were having lunch, actually. Any further news from over there, by the way?’ Paula threw her handbag on a chair, sat down behind the huge partners’ desk that had once been her grandmother’s.
‘Yes. Your mother rang again. She wanted you to know she won’t stay on after the inquest in Cork tomorrow as she had planned. She’s decided to fly back to London immediately,’ Gaye explained, taking the chair opposite the desk.
‘I’m glad she’s changed her mind. Once the inquest is out of the way we’ll be able to breathe a little easier…I sincerely hope.’
‘Since the police haven’t made any moves I’m positive the hearing will be quite routine,’ Gaye volunteered in a quiet tone.
‘Let us pray.’ Paula attempted a smile, then noticing Gaye’s gloomy demeanour for the first time, she asked, ‘You’re not looking too happy. What’s been happening since I walked out of here at eleven o’clock?’
Gaye cleared her throat. ‘Sorry to greet you with problems, Paula…but I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got this afternoon.’
‘Par for the course this week, or so it seems. All right, Gaye, let’s have the bad news.’
‘I’ll start with what I feel are the real priorities,’ Gaye said, lifting her head. ‘Dale Stevens rang you about twenty minutes ago. Not from Texas though. He’s in New York. At the Pierre Hotel. He sounded odd, worried, in my opinion. Certainly he wasn’t his usual ebullient self.’
Trouble at Sitex, Paula thought. Stifling her apprehension, she said, ‘Did he give you any indication why he wanted to speak to me?’
Gaye shook her head. ‘But he did ask me when you plan to visit Harte’s in New York. I
said probably not before November, and this seemed to upset him. He sort of bit back a four-letter word and asked, “Are you sure she won’t be over in the States earlier than that?” I said you wouldn’t, not unless there was something urgent that needed your attention. I was fishing when I made that remark, but he didn’t rise to the bait.’
‘I’d better ring him back.’ Paula reached for the phone.
Gaye said, ‘He’s not there. He went to a meeting. The message was to call him at six our time.’
‘That’s all he said?’
‘Not one word more. Very cagey, our Mr Stevens was. I can tell from your expression that you’re worried, think the worst, suspect that there’s something amiss at Sitex Oil. I have to agree. He did sound awfully tense, even morose.’
‘As you said before, that’s very unusual. Dale’s always so relaxed and cheerful. But there’s no use speculating. Okay. Sitex at six. What’s next?’
‘Winston checked in from Vancouver over lunch time. He was also anxiety ridden. He has unexpected problems with the Canadian paper mill. They erupted late yesterday, after you and he had already spoken. The negotiations have stalled. He’s withdrawing the offer today, as you both agreed he should if any difficulties developed. He’s going to give them twenty-four hours, and if it’s not back on the tracks by then he’s flying to New York on Friday. He doesn’t want you to bother ringing him. He said he’d be in touch – either way. But he doesn’t hold out much hope of making the deal. He has a feeling it’s kaput.’
‘Damnation, that is annoying! It would have been such a good acquisition for Consolidated. We’ll just have to hope he can turn the situation around. Go on, Gaye.’
‘Sally Harte’s disappeared,’ Gaye murmured, giving Paula a sympathetic look.
‘The fool! The silly little fool!’ Paula cried sitting bolt upright. ‘I told her not to go rushing off to Ireland, and I bet that’s exactly where she’s gone. Who called? Uncle Randolph?’
‘No, Emily. Your Uncle Randolph spoke to her a couple of hours ago. Emily was on her way out when she received the call. She’s on her way to town right now. As you know, she has a meeting at the London office of Genret tomorrow. Anyway, apparently your Uncle Randolph is in quite a rage, although Emily says she did her best to calm him down. Emily thinks Vivienne is hiding something, knows where Sally’s gone but won’t talk. She suggested you tackle Vivienne when you have a moment.’
Paula groaned. ‘I do so love Emily’s advice. Why the hell didn’t she speak to Vivienne when she was still in Yorkshire! This is all I need today.’
‘I did ask Emily to take a minute to talk to Vivienne before setting off, but she demurred, explained that it wouldn’t do any good. She said, “Tell Paula I’m not as daunting as she is,” and she hung up before I could say another word.’
‘I see.’ The two women exchanged concerned glances. Paula looked away, focusing on the fireplace, her face reflective, and then her mouth curved down in a stern and resolute line and her eyes narrowed.
Watching her closely, Gaye could not help thinking how much Paula resembled her grandmother at this moment and she thought: I hope to God she really is as strong as Emma Harte – as we have all come to believe.
Paula brought her gaze back to her assistant. ‘I’ll get to Vivienne later. Wherever Sally is, I can’t very well remove her bodily, or force her to do as I say. Right now, business comes first. Anything else?’
‘John Cross telephoned. He’s in London. He asked for an appointment. Tomorrow morning, if convenient.’
‘Oh!’ Paula exclaimed, but she was not as surprised as she appeared to be. She had been expecting to hear from the head of Aire Communications for weeks. She and her grandmother had agreed he would come crawling back eventually.
Gaye stared at her, trying to fathom her expression which was quite unreadable. ‘Cross left a number, Paula,’ she said at last, breaking the silence. ‘What do you want to do? You’ve a fairly clear calendar tomorrow.’
Pursing her lips and shaking her head, Paula admitted, ‘To be truthful, I’m not sure…there doesn’t seem to be much point in seeing him. I’ve nothing to say to that particular gentleman. I’ll let you know before the end of the day.’
‘Your cousin Sarah’s back from Barbados, and she wants to see you. At four o’clock today. She says she has to come over to the store to see the ready-to-wear buyer, and could pop up for a few minutes. She was rather insistent.’
‘She’s back sooner than I expected. I’d better see her. It can’t be anything important, so it shouldn’t take very long. Sarah most likely wants to tell me about the opening of the boutique and the new hotel this past weekend. Is that all of it, Gaye?’
‘It’s enough, isn’t it?’ Gaye replied dourly.
Paula sat back, surveying her. ‘Do you really like being my assistant? Or would you prefer to be my secretary after all? I can demote you, Gaye, if that’s what you want. I aim to please in all things,’ Paula teased, and laughed in spite of her many worries.
Gaye had the good grace to laugh too. ‘Sorry I sounded so glum. And I’m relishing the new job, honestly I am. Besides, Sheila would be hurt and affronted if she was relegated to being the junior secretary again. She’s so proud she works for you personally. She’s very efficient, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, thanks to your assiduous training over the last few years.’
The telephone rang. Paula glared at it, shook her head.
Lifting the receiver, Gaye said crisply: ‘Mrs Fairley’s office.’ There was a slight pause before she added, ‘She’s right here.’ Handing her the phone, Gaye mouthed, ‘It’s okay – it’s only Alexander.’ Gaye hurried out of the room.
‘How do you like being back at the old grindstone?’ Paula said into the phone.
‘Bloody awful after two weeks of sunshine and indolence in the South of France. But it’s a relief in one sense – I don’t have to cope with my mother,’ Alexander answered in a sarcastic voice, rushed on, ‘Can you have supper with me tonight? There’s a few things I’d like to discuss with you.’
‘Serious?’
‘No. Interesting, though.’
‘Why don’t you tell me now?’ Paula pressed, her curiosity flaring.
‘Too involved. Also, I’m due to start a meeting in exactly ten minutes. Since you and I are both in town and alone, I thought it was a good opportunity to get together. Fancy dining at the White Elephant?’
‘That sounds like a nice change. Thanks for the invitation, and I’d love to see you, as long as we can make it around nine. I have to work late.’
‘Who doesn’t, and nine’s fine. I’ll pick you up at Belgrave Square, shall I? Around eight-thirty?’
‘Perfect. Oh, and Sandy, you’d better make the reservation for three. Your sister’s on her way up to London, and I’m sure Emily’ll insist on joining us.’
‘Too true. Miss Nosey Parker has to be in on everything,’ he responded with a dry laugh. ‘See you later.’
Paula rose and walked over to stand with her back to the fireplace. The weather had turned cold in the last few days and as soon as there was the slightest hint of an autumn nip in the air the fire was automatically lit every morning as it had been for years. Paula was glad that Emma’s long tradition continued unchanged. She suddenly felt chilled to the bone and the bright blaze was warming, also brought a cheerful aspect to the handsome room.
She scowled to herself as her thoughts settled on Dale Stevens. It was not unusual for him to be in constant contact with her, since she was her grandmother’s representative at Sitex. Emma, who with forty-two per cent of the stock was the largest single stockholder, had always been a power in the oil company and a member of the board. Now that she filled this role Dale conferred with her several times a month. On the other hand, this afternoon’s call had apparently not been routine. Gaye had discerned a troubled note in his voice, and she trusted Gaye’s judgement. After all, it had been the redoubtable Sloane who had discovered the plot against Gran
dy last year. Dale is probably having trouble with the Harry Marriott faction on the board, Paula suddenly thought. He had been her grandfather’s partner when Paul McGill had founded Sydney-Texas Oil in the twenties, and he had always been difficult. Emma had managed to get him kicked upstairs as chairman of the board in January of 1968, and had manipulated the board to do her will. They had voted with her, and had hired Dale Stevens, Emma’s protégé, as the new president. Still, some of the board members who were Marriott’s cronies resented Dale, and Paula decided that they were most likely creating an untenable situation for him.
Damn, she cursed under her breath. I wish I could reach him before six. Paula glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty. Two-and-a-half hours to wait. Well, at least she had time to sign her letters, go over the inter-office memos piled on her desk, and speak to Vivienne Harte before Sarah Lowther appeared on the scene.
Returning to her desk, Paula flipped through the memos, saw that some of them raised questions which were too complicated to deal with quickly, and these she placed on one side. After signing the morning’s correspondence, she put through a call to Allington Hall in Middleham.
‘Hello, Vivienne,’ Paula said when her cousin answered. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, Paula! Hello. I’m pretty good, and you?’
‘Worried, Vivienne. I just heard that –’
‘If you’re phoning about Sally I won’t tell you where she is! I promised her. Daddy can’t get it out of me, and neither will you.’
Paula said with firmness, ‘Now, Vivienne, I’m sure Sally wouldn’t be upset if you told me. I’m the –’
‘Oh yes she would,’ Vivienne interrupted heatedly. ‘She doesn’t want anybody to know where she’s gone. Not even you. Please don’t badger me, put me in this terrible position.’
‘You can tell me…Listen, I won’t say a thing to your father, or another soul, not even Winston when he calls me later. You must know I won’t break my word.’
‘No, I don’t know that…you’re expecting me to break mine,’ Vivienne retorted. ‘My poor sister is like a wounded bird, worn out too, and she needs to have a little peace and quiet. Daddy hasn’t stopped ranting and raving at her since Sunday night.’
Hold the Dream Page 39
