by Hyland, Tara
Lucien, always calmly logical, simply said, “And we will be just as happy somewhere bigger.”
He was right, of course. And buying a home together had been more special and exciting than she had ever thought possible. The apartment would always be his, while the place they chose was theirs, representing them as a couple.
Fortunately it hadn’t been hard to agree on something. They decided early on that they wanted to stay in the Shoreditch area, near Hoxton Square, Spitalfields, and the Columbia Road Flower Market, and luckily they had the same taste in properties, too. As soon as they saw the four-story, eighteenth-century house, they knew it was the right place for them. It was light, bright, and airy.
“Although in desperate need of refurbishment,” Caitlin had told William, the night their offer was accepted.
William had muttered something about not understanding why they hadn’t gone for new construction instead: “far less work.” But Caitlin and Lucien didn’t mind. For the past six months, they had spent any spare weekends and evenings lovingly fixing up the place, starting with redesigning the vaults under the house into a darkroom for him and converting the attic into a studio for her.
The smell of fresh paint hit Caitlin as she opened the front door. So he had finally gotten around to painting the dining room today. Despite their busy schedules, the couple had been determined to do as much of the work as possible themselves, rather than have contractors in. But that also meant it took more time.
Inside, the house was silent.
“Lucien?” she called out.
There was no answer. She went to check the ground floor. But he wasn’t there, or in the darkroom, so she headed upstairs.
She finally found him stretched out asleep on their bed, clad only in paint-spattered jeans, his T-shirt thrown carelessly on the floor. She smiled at the sight of him. There was still paint on his hands and arms, in his hair. He’d obviously planned to take a shower, thought he’d lie down first, and then never made it up again.
Silently, she slipped off her shoes and lay down next to him. It was a warm day out, but their room was refreshingly cool. The windows had been thrown open, the white net curtains billowing gently in the early evening breeze. At first she was content to watch him sleep. But after a while, she couldn’t resist moving under the crook of his arm, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. When he still didn’t wake, she turned her face to softly kiss his chest, running her tongue over his warm skin. Finally he stirred.
“Sorry,” she whispered, as his eyes flickered open. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said through a yawn. “This is an extremely pleasant way to be woken, chérie.” He stretched, rubbed his face. His gaze flicked to the clock at the side of the bed, and he groaned. “How did it get so late?”
“That’s what happens when you spend all afternoon sleeping,” she teased.
He pulled a face. “I think I remember promising to cook for you,” he said apologetically.
“We could go out.”
Her hand lay resting on the flat of his stomach. He reached down, his fingers entwining with hers. His voice was husky as he said, “Let’s stay in instead.”
He pulled her over on top of him.
She sighed contentedly. Life couldn’t be more perfect.
48
_________
When William came to Elizabeth’s office later that night, she thought it was to apologize for supporting Caitlin in the boardroom. Instead, he asked her to take his place on a trip to Tokyo in two weeks’ time.
“I wanted to go myself,” he told her, “but at my checkup yesterday, the doctor advised me not to. And now your mother won’t hear of me getting on a plane.”
Elizabeth had been checking her diary as he spoke, and now she groaned. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?”
“Those dates . . . they coincide with the opening of Osaka.” He looked blank. “You know, Cole’s new restaurant.” His dream to create a luxury version of Kobe was finally being realized. There was no way she couldn’t be there that night. “Can’t I go the week after?” she pleaded.
William huffed irritably. “It’s far too late to rearrange. You know how important this trip is.”
Yes, she agreed, she did know how important it was. And, all the time, she was trying to figure out whether she could somehow find a way to please everyone, husband, father, clients . . .
Half an hour later, having checked meeting and flight schedules, she decided she could just about manage it. She was due to fly back into London the afternoon of the opening and should still be able to make the party, although she wasn’t sure that would satisfy Cole.
She was right.
“Christ, Elizabeth,” he said, when she broke the news to him later that evening. “I ask you for one night.”
“But you know how important this trip is, Cole!” She was immediately on the defensive. “What do you expect?”
He looked at her coldly. “This is exactly what I expect, these days. That I come second to that fucking company.”
She changed tack, then. “I promise I’ll be back in time.” She went over to kiss him on the shoulder. “You know I can’t wait to see the restaurant.”
But he wasn’t about to be pacified. “Sure. Whatever.” He shrugged her off, went over to the fridge, and got himself a beer. He didn’t bother to ask if she wanted anything.
Elizabeth felt suddenly very weary. If the past two years had been the best of Caitlin’s life, they had been less kind to Elizabeth. Work had never really eased up. Her home life had continued to deteriorate—this evening’s fight was pretty standard for them these days. And, worst of all, no one seemed to appreciate the effort she was putting in.
Today’s boardroom incident had been typical. The directors all credited Caitlin with Melville’s turnaround.
“Isn’t it so lucky that we have Caitlin?” they always said.
It was like a kick in the stomach each time, knowing that no one acknowledged the behind-the-scenes changes she had made, which had been just as crucial to the company’s recovery. She tried not to let it get to her. She continued on as always, working hard, keeping a close eye on operations, making sure nothing jeopardized the turnaround. But then she saw comments like those in today’s Financial Times, which glossed over her role in the improved results and even implied that Caitlin would be named as William’s successor—and it reopened the old wounds.
It was ridiculous, of course. Caitlin might be able to put together a killer collection, but there was no way she had the business acumen necessary to be chief executive. Elizabeth knew the job was hers. Her father hadn’t said anything outright, but there were no other serious contenders. It was what she’d worked for all these years; it was her birthright.
Once William had named her as his successor, life would become better, she was sure. She kept saying that to Cole. “I’ll feel a lot more settled. Then we can get back to normal.”
He always nodded, said that sounded good. But she had a feeling he didn’t believe her anymore.
* * *
Two weeks later, Elizabeth stepped off the plane and into the gray, wet heat of Tokyo. By the time she’d completed the short walk across the tarmac to the terminal, she was already covered in a layer of sweat. It was the wrong time of year to be in Japan. While spring, the famous cherry-blossom season, might be pleasant, summers were notoriously sticky and humid. She would have given anything not to be here—not least because of the strife it had caused with Cole. But unfortunately, backing out hadn’t been an option.
After nearly eight years of partnership, Mr. Yamamoto wanted out of the joint venture. He’d always been an opportunistic investor and, after divorcing his brand-obsessed wife, he begun to lose interest in Melville. His original investment had increased tenfold, and he wanted to realize the cash and invest it elsewhere. If it had been anyone else, Elizabeth would have called to ask about rescheduling, but she knew Yamamoto too well.
He was a powerful man who took offense easily, and they didn’t want him blackballing Melville with local suppliers. There was no way he could be put off.
Piers had offered to go in Elizabeth’s place, but William wouldn’t hear of it.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he’d said dismissively. “There’s no way you could deal with this alone.”
Elizabeth could see how hurt her uncle was by William’s curt tone. Feeling a little sorry for Piers, she cornered him later and said he was welcome to accompany her if he wanted.
“Well, as long as you’re sure,” he’d said doubtfully.
“It’ll give us a chance to catch up, Uncle Piers,” she’d told him. “I’ve hardly seen you lately.”
Their weekly dinners had dwindled recently; if she was too busy to get home for Cole, she could hardly justify spending time with her uncle. And, if she was honest, she would be quite pleased to have Piers along for company. Lately, she had been feeling strangely lonely.
It was to be a whirlwind visit. Elizabeth had organized the trip with military precision, determined to conclude all the business as efficiently as possible in order to get back for the opening of Osaka on Thursday evening. The plane arrived in Tokyo first thing Tuesday morning, and they would spend the day at the Ginza store. They were scheduled to have a full meeting with Mr. Yamamoto on Wednesday, and their flight was due to leave Wednesday afternoon, landing in Heathrow at four the following afternoon.
“That will leave more than enough time to get back to the house, change, and head over to Soho,” she’d assured Cole the evening before she left. He’d merely grunted in response.
When Yamamoto met them for dinner on Tuesday, Elizabeth hoped to save time the next day by getting him to start talking about the joint venture then. But he waved away her attempts.
“Tonight is strictly for pleasure,” he said. “Tomorrow is business.”
However much it pained her, she had to accept his wishes. She comforted herself by thinking that at least he seemed in an amenable mood, and that should hopefully make the following day’s negotiations quick and easy.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. First, he turned up an hour and a half late.
“There was an explosion at my steel plants in Kawasaki,” he explained. “Naturally I had to deal with that.”
Elizabeth tried to look understanding. “Of course you did,” she said, thinking that if they started now, she might still just about be able to make the plane.
But it wasn’t to be. He kept interrupting their discussion to go outside and catch up on the unfolding crisis. It was impossible to stay focused on the intricacies of the deal when they kept stopping and starting. Worse still, as the hours ticked by, Elizabeth was finding it hard to concentrate. She was so worried about missing the plane that she couldn’t keep her mind on what he was saying.
It was Piers who provided a solution. He took Elizabeth to one side after Yamamoto went out of the room for the sixth time.
“There’s a BA flight taking off three hours later than the one we were supposed to be on. Why don’t I book us on that instead? It should give us time to finish up here, and you’ll still get to London for the party.”
Elizabeth thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t ideal—she’d be a little later and she’d have no time to change, but it seemed like the best solution. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes. Let’s do that.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Uncle Piers. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Piers couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself as he went to make the call. He’d been relying on the fact that Elizabeth was so caught up in her meeting that she wouldn’t have noticed the news headlines. Along with humidity and heat, Tokyo summers were also known for the typhoons that hit in June and July. Over the past few hours, the weather center had been warning that one was due tonight. The last few flights were leaving soon, and then the airport would close. That meant he would have Elizabeth all to himself for another evening—which should give him plenty of time to start working on her.
He had waited over two years for his revenge on William. He had plotted and planned, looking for the right time to move. Now it was almost upon him. He just hoped that he would have the courage to go through with it.
Four hours later, Elizabeth came out of the meeting with Yamamoto in a fantastic mood. They had resolved terms for buying out the joint venture, and there was still plenty of time to catch the later flight. It was only when she tried to order a car to take them to the airport that she realized something was up.
“No airport.” The receptionist pointed up at the weather warnings flashing across CNN behind her. “No plane.”
Elizabeth stared in horror at the pictures of empty streets, lashed by wind and driving rain. When the hell had that happened? Shut away in Yamamoto’s state-of-the-art, earthquake-proof headquarters, they had had no indication of the growing turmoil outside. Now what was she supposed to do?
Cole knew how the night was going to end. He knew as soon as he got Elizabeth’s message. She was apologetic, terribly apologetic, if a little defensive. And yeah, maybe the fucking monsoon, or typhoon, or whatever, wasn’t her fault. But the point was, she wasn’t there by his side, on the most important night of his life. And Sumiko was.
Maybe it would have been different if Osaka hadn’t been such an obvious hit. But it was, everyone agreed. It was hip; it was cool; it was now. It was so much more than a restaurant—it was like walking into a chic nightclub: dark, moody, sexy. Everyone kept coming up to Cole to congratulate him—press, celebrities, fellow restauranteurs. They were talking about Osaka being the next Zuma, the next Hakkasan. He felt like King of the World this evening, and he didn’t want the night to end.
But by one in the morning, the guests were beginning to disperse. Caitlin and Lucien were among the last to leave.
“We’re going to head off now, Cole.” Caitlin kissed him on both cheeks and then said, in a low voice, “I know how sorry Elizabeth will be about missing tonight.”
“Come on,” Lucien said, taking her hand. “Let’s get you home. Or you will be too tired to get up tomorrow morning.”
Cole watched as the couple ran up the stairs together. He felt suddenly wistful for a time when he and Elizabeth had behaved exactly like that.
So when sweet, obliging Sumiko came up to him five minutes later, looking particularly pretty in a pale pink shift dress, and asked whether he’d like to go for a drink, what the hell was he meant to say? He thought of his empty house and his empty bed. And he looked at the beautiful young woman in front of him and thought, What’s the harm? It’s only one drink.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked once they were in the taxi.
Eyes demurely lowered, she said, “Perhaps you would like to come back to my place?”
She lived alone in a smart one-bedroom apartment in Angel. She’d only moved in recently, and it had that new smell about it. By the time they got there, he was already beginning to realize what a mistake this was. They had nothing to say to each other. She just giggled a lot and seemed totally in awe of him. He kind of felt sorry for her. He’d just stay for one drink and then duck out.
“I’ll be back in a second.” She giggled again. It was getting pretty irritating. “Make yourself at home.” Then she disappeared into what he presumed was her bedroom.
Cole paced the floor, swirling the cheap Scotch around the glass, wondering how soon he could get out of there. Once she got back, he’d leave. He waited and waited some more. What the hell was she doing in there? Maybe it was worth making his escape now; it would avoid any awkwardness. He swallowed down his drink.
“Look,” he called out. “I’d better get going—”
The words died as the bedroom door swung open and she walked back into the room. Suddenly he figured out exactly what she’d been doing all that time. The pretty pink dress had been removed. Now she stood shyly in the doorway, wearing a cream lace negligée and an inviting smile.
Who w
as he kidding? He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
Over in Tokyo, Piers and Elizabeth had retreated to the safety of the hotel. Even after hearing about the typhoon, she had wanted to head to the airport anyway, on the off chance that they might be able to get on the last flight out. But Piers had eventually persuaded her there was no hope.
Elizabeth had happily agreed to his suggestion to wait out the worst of the storm together. At least talking to him would take her mind off Cole. Now, they sat in the hotel lobby, along with the other terrified guests. It was still only late afternoon, but outside it was dark and the streets empty, the wind howling and rain beating against the sides of the building.
The waitress came over. Piers ordered a green tea, while Elizabeth went for a brandy. She needed something to help her relax. Cole still hadn’t called her back, and she knew he was going to be furious.
Luckily, her uncle seemed to sense her anxiety and kept up a steady stream of small talk until she started to feel better. Eventually the conversation turned to Armand Bouchard. There were rumors that he was considering making another bid for Melville. Elizabeth had been thinking through their options. Yes, he could bid for the publicly-owned 40 percent of the company. If he succeeded in getting it, then he could make things difficult for them, pushing for a seat on the board, trying to influence policy.
“It’s all going to come down to convincing shareholders that there’s still a lot more value in Melville and that we’re the management team to realize that,” Elizabeth told Piers.
“Yes,” he agreed, “but that’s going to be difficult, isn’t it, with the uncertainty surrounding your father’s succession.”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up. “Uncertainty?” She seized on the word. “Why would there be any uncertainty?”
Piers quickly shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” Seeing her frown, he added, “Honestly, it’s nothing . . . forget I mentioned it.”
But Elizabeth wasn’t convinced. “Piers, if you knew something you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
