by Lynn Steward
Jack would obviously need a little coaxing by way of reminders of what Brett knew about his private life. Brett had his secretary put in a call to Jack to set up a lunch meeting at the Polo Lounge. Brett suspected that Jack wasn’t taking his blackmail scheme seriously ever since he’d been sent to the West Coast. It was time to take the pulse of the young CEO of Hartlen Response.
• • •
Brett entered the Polo Lounge, located in the Westbury Hotel on Madison Avenue. Brett was running late, but Jack hadn’t yet arrived. It wasn’t a good omen. Brett chose a seat at the rear of the lounge and waited nervously. After ten minutes of constantly checking his watch, he looked up to see Jack, tall and slender, approaching the table. Jack had thinning brown hair, and his laidback manner was antithetical to Brett’s desire to always keep business on a professional footing.
“Sorry to be late,” Jack said with a confident smile as he seated himself. “Our office has been open less than four months, and we’re still not up to speed on staffing. I tell you—it’s a busy life here in New York.”
“Busy in more ways than one,” Brett said dryly.
“Now that didn’t take very long,” Jack said, his eyes fixed on Brett. “So let’s get right to it, shall we? Here’s what I’m seeing: you’ve been gone four months, I haven’t signed the consortium papers, and yet you haven’t divulged my wicked little secret to anyone or placed a single call to me to urge me to sign. Looks to me like something is holding you back. To be honest, I’m not that worried anymore.” Ever the gentleman, Jack’s manner was straightforward yet calm even though he detested the opportunistic lawyer sitting across from him.
“Your little secret?” Brett said. “Hardly little, Jack. What counts is that I’m back today, and it only takes one word from me to destroy your marriage and possibly even your reputation. What’s it going to be?”
Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully before clasping his hands on the table. “After a lot of careful consideration,” he said, “I’ve concluded that you would never go through with outing me. Not now, not ever.”
Brett, clearly irritated, knitted his eyebrows and frowned. “What makes you so sure?” He took a sip of scotch as he waited for a reply.
“Because you’d hurt Dana. Badly. She loves Andrew dearly, as do I, and she’s also getting quite close to my wife now that Patti is with the Altman Foundation. You may be getting divorced, but you’re not going to hurt that very adorable wife of yours even when she becomes your ex. After all, you spent eight years with her, and I’m willing to bet that without her considerable patience, you wouldn’t be where you are today.”
Brett took another sip of scotch, certain that Jack knew nothing of Janice and therefore couldn’t turn the tables on him when it came to blackmail. “It seems I’ve already disappointed Dana,” he pointed out. “What do I have to lose? The damage is already done, and I’ll do what I have to. As for Andrew and Patti, they’re nothing more than collateral damage to me. You’ve put my reputation with the firm on the line, and nothing is going to jeopardize that. I sacrificed my marriage to make partner, so don’t presume I’ll stop there to further my career.”
Jack smiled and stood to leave. “But I don’t think you will. I know how to read people, and I’m also a gambler.” He winked. “It’s what we do down in Texas. My great-grandfather was a wildcatter, and we know something about risk. No, you’re not going to pull the trigger on this, Brett ole boy.”
Jack turned and left before Brett could respond.
Brett was nonplussed. Was Jack correct in his assumption? Would he—Brett—not go forward with his blackmail plan for the sake of sparing Dana since her dear friend Andrew might be caught in the cross-fire? He’d been busy in San Francisco, enjoying his new-found freedom, but why indeed had he not called Jack? Was it because, as he’d realized in his office, he knew Dana didn’t deserve any more grief?
Or was there another factor to consider? Brett could certainly find numerous ways to disclose Jack’s affair without leaving a trail that pointed to himself or the firm lest the Hartlens find new reasons to sever ties with Davis, Konen and Wright. But despite the method of disclosure, Andrew would learn from Jack in short order that he, Brett, was the one who’d stumbled across their affair, and it would only be a matter of hours before Dana found out. When she did, what would her reaction be? He’d learned a few months ago that Dana was now willing to be pushed only so far. Would she go after Brett? His career? Would she, in turn, expose his affair with Janice? There was no way to predict what she would do, but one thing was certain: Dana was no longer hesitant to operate in her best interest and that of her friends.
Have I seriously miscalculated, Brett wondered. Is this about to blow up in my face?
Four months ago, the blackmail had seemed logical, had seemed the obvious way to secure his partnership. But now Jack had hesitated, and ugly possibilities were creeping into the picture.
He finished his scotch and returned to his office, trying to think of additional leverage to use against the obstinate Mr. Hartlen.
• • •
Brett was back at his desk for only fifteen minutes before Janice called from San Francisco. They exchanged a few amorous greetings before Janice informed him that Ralph Hartlen had been trying to reach him all morning.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Brett asked.
“No,” Janice said, “but he said it was urgent and that you should get back to him as soon as possible. He’ll be at his Houston office all day.”
“I’ll call him now.”
“Call me when you’re finished,” Janice requested. “You know how I love intrigue.”
“Janice,” Brett said, “you’re the very definition of intrigue.”
“That’s why you love me. Like I said, let me know what’s up.”
Within minutes, Brett had Ralph Hartlen on the line.
“Brett McGarry here, Ralph. What can I do for you?”
“Quite a lot actually,” Ralph said. “Let me explain.”
Brett said nothing for the next ten minutes as Ralph spoke at length about a serious concern at Hartlen Oil. Brett could tell that he was extremely upset.
“I’ll have to speak with Richard,” Brett said when Ralph had finished talking, “but I’ll do whatever I can. Let me get back to you.”
Brett put the receiver back on its cradle, leaned back, and smiled broadly. Fortune had smiled on him once again. Hartlen Oil was immersed in a scandal, and Ralph wanted Brett’s help. The request would send Jack reeling.
Life was so sweet sometimes.
Chapter Four
It was overcast when Dana left The Wallace Collection, with a few drops beginning to hit the pavement as black umbrellas popped open up and down the length of the block. She decided to return to the Lansdowne Club to quickly retrieve her raincoat before heading to Regent Street. She stopped at the front desk before going to her room and was given a phone message from Andrew Ricci that had come in while she was at the lecture. It read, “Please call any time, day or night. Try home, try work, but call. It’s urgent.”
Brows furrowed, Dana went to her room and dialed Andrew’s work number. It was early morning in the states, and she figured that Andrew had been at the store for at least an hour. She was concerned. Was someone ill? Had Andrew received bad news? Had Brett returned from San Francisco in order to cause further trouble? Was there a problem with the divorce settlement? She assumed her parents were okay since no one from her family had called, but perhaps something terrible had happened to Johnny or Uncle John. Dana’s mind raced as she waited nervously for the overseas call to be put through, static crackling on the line.
Five minutes passed before she heard Andrew’s distant voice. “Dana? Is that you?”
“Yes, Andrew. I got your message a few minutes ago. Is anything wrong?”
There was a pause that seemed to last forever. Was there a problem with the connection or was Andrew too overwhelmed to speak?
“Are you there, A
ndrew?”
“I’m here. Listen, I’m really sorry to call you about this on your vacation, but I thought you should know as soon as possible.”
“Andrew, what is it? Please get to the point.”
“Dawn resigned.”
“You’re kidding. What happened?”
“You can’t guess?”
“Well … yes, of course, she’s joining Ira at Bergdorf’s.”
“Yep. She’s already gone. Left yesterday. We should have expected it. They’ve been close for years.”
“What a loss for the store. No one has Dawn’s vision. Do you know if they will try to replace her?”
“I have no idea. Not a peep coming from senior management, but lots of hushed conversations around the store.”
“Remember, Andrew, that the position of fashion director was Ira’s idea, and not everyone understood what Dawn did or the difference she was making. She had a lot of power.”
“Good point. There’s a good chance they won’t replace her.”
“Well, I’m just lucky that Dawn helped me get Nantucket into production before she left.”
“Dana, that’s why I’m calling. Dawn’s news could have waited. Helen is killing the Nantucket boutique.”
There was silence on the line.
“Dana, did you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Damn it, I’m not okay! I’m livid! She couldn’t wait until I got back to the store? She’s a spiteful woman! Andrew, are you absolutely sure about this?”
“The news wasn’t even an hour old before Helen called me into her office and ordered me to tell Mark to halt production.” Andrew paused, second-guessing his decision to tell Dana the news while she was away.
“But … I mean … that doesn’t make any sense at all. You said Dawn left yesterday and that no replacement has been announced. Helen can’t make that kind of sweeping decision without consulting someone!”
“She can and she did,” Andrew said. “Until further notice or a new fashion director is named, the divisionals once again have full control of their buyers, just like they did before Dawn came on the scene. No one can override Helen’s decision, Dana. I’m sorry. I just thought you shouldn’t hear this your first day back.”
Dana was stunned and angry. The boutique would have gone far beyond an idea such as the placement of a small teen makeup counter against a side wall, a counter that Dana had to fight for last December. The boutique would have been her biggest accomplishment to date, not to mention a boon to B. Altman. Ira had been brought in to give a facelift to the store and energize its stuffy atmosphere, but with his move to Bergdorf Goodman, the winds of change had suddenly died down and the old guard, represented most notably by Helen, might well impede innovations necessary to keep the store competitive. Boutiques were appearing in many stores in New York City, and once again Helen was balking at a popular current trend.
Dana sighed deeply. “You’re right. I need to take some time to accept this. Helen didn’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call to tell me herself. The build-out was already under way. What about the money that’s been wasted with Senger Display? I know Helen is concerned about cost, but it’s about much more than that. It’s about control, and ever since she’s been divisional manager, she thinks she’s nothing more than a paper tiger. She saw an opportunity in Dawn’s announcement and pounced on it. Andrew, I’m mad as hell.”
“I don’t blame you, kiddo, but I don’t see anything to do except bite the bullet and live to fight another day.”
“Oh, there’s going to be a fight all right,” Dana said, her voice rising in pitch.
Andrew paused. “Why not finish your vacation and come back fresh. Give things time to play out. Maybe Bob Campbell will weigh in on this.”
“I doubt it. Bob gives Helen a wide berth in just about everything. Maybe he, too, doesn’t believe in the Nantucket boutique. I don’t know what to think or who to trust anymore.”
“Try not to think about it while you’re away. Things will work out.”
Dana didn’t place much stock in Andrew’s cliché, but he meant well and was always willing to do anything to help his friend. “Okay, Andrew. You’re right. I’ll use this time away to try to process everything. It’s going to take a while.”
“I’m sure it will, Dana. Take care, and we’ll talk when you get back.”
“Bye now.” Dana hung up and paced anxiously around her suite, hardly able to believe what she’d just heard. Helen can’t do this, Dana thought over and over again. She’s overstepped her boundaries this time. I won’t let her get away with it.
But Dana knew that Andrew was correct. With Dawn no longer present to overrule Helen, and with no replacement named, Helen had both the right and the leverage to stop the build-out cold. What Dana’s response would be was another matter. In the minutes following the call to Andrew, Dana considered walking into Helen’s office and tendering her resignation. If B. Altman didn’t value her creativity, she could certainly find another store or company that would. Maybe she had gone as far as she could at B. Altman.
Maybe it was time for a change. She’d filed for separation from Brett because she’d grown weary of the drama. Maybe it was time to divorce B. Altman as well. The bureaucracy was stifling.
• • •
Dana sat on one of the many wooden benches that lined the main walkway cutting through Berkeley Square near the Lansdowne Club. A light mist in the air had ceased, although the day was still gloomy, a stark contrast to the sunny spring atmosphere she’d enjoyed the previous morning. The mood seemed fitting to Dana since the bleak, chilly day mirrored the emotions in her mind and soul.
Why didn’t Helen understand the marketing potential of the Nantucket concept? It was endless and could reach far beyond juniors into housewares, children’s, and, of course, menswear. The boutique was a small investment with a huge up-side. Yes, Helen had pride and was someone who liked to have firm control of situations, which wasn’t always a bad thing. Every company needed leadership, and Helen was a talented, savvy businesswoman, but leadership without vision was doomed for failure. Furthermore, outside of work, she had always been a friend to Dana. But nothing static could survive indefinitely, not marriages and certainly not businesses when the competition was always looking to build the better mousetrap. Even portrait miniatures had been an innovation hundreds of years earlier, a unique art form that had gained the attention of kings and emperors. As Dana looked at the green trees of the square, heavy with raindrops, she realized that all of life depended on cycles and change, and change at B. Altman was being stifled by Helen Kavanagh.
Dana’s thoughts turned to the indomitable Nina Bramen, B. Altman’s antiques buyer and a staunch, outspoken feminist who inspired Dana to pursue her vision for the teen makeup counter when her idea had been dismissed at every turn. Nina had convinced Dana that a determined woman could accomplish anything if, above all, she didn’t lose the spirit to fight for what she believed. It’s what Estée Lauder did, as well as all successful women who carved a new career path.
Remembering Helen’s wrath when Dawn approved the Nantucket boutique, Dana recalled a comment Helen made that had stung like a bee: your “little idea.” What, Dana wondered, did Helen really mean by the remark? Was the idea small because the items were accessories and low ticket items? But Helen’s refusal to even discuss the topic made Dana think she was the one who was small and not willing to explore the possibilities. Now that Dawn was gone, however, Dana realized that she had to find a way to renew the relationship if she wanted Helen to eventually support the Nantucket boutique or any other creative idea. Dana decided not to show Helen how angry and hurt she was about the way she had abruptly killed her pet project, but rather she would request a meeting to get Helen’s fashion direction before buying her spring accessory line. At the right time, Dana would change the subject and ask Helen for her vision of boutiques at B. Altman. Even without Dawn Mello, top merchandising executives at the store would soon want to ride
the wave of this new business model, and Helen would have to get on board. Dana would take her comments back to the drawing board and tweak the Nantucket boutique accordingly. If politics was the name of the game, Dana was determined to learn how to play. Giving up was not an option.
Dana stood proudly and walked quickly towards Regent Street.
• • •
Regent Street was located in London’s West End, and when it came to shopping, it was as well known and iconic as Fifth or Madison Avenues. Its layout was designed by architect John Nash, and the street itself was named after George IV when he was Prince Regent. The street exhibited the Beaux-Arts school of urban design, assembling several small buildings in great numbers to produce an overall effect of architectural harmony. As Dana made her way past the dozens of shops on the fabled street, the day didn’t seem dreary any longer despite lingering gray clouds. It was the 150th anniversary of Regent Street since its completion in 1825, and colorful banners and flags hung from the triple-globed street lamps in the center of the thoroughfare. Posters in the windows of many shops advertised a procession on Regent Street on April 23rd and a costume ball at Café Royal. After a visit to Liberty & Co. to see its newly- opened wallpaper department, she headed straight for Jaeger at 204 Regent Street.
