by Wegner, Ola
“We?” He shook his head with a sad smile. “And what do you know about the management, marketing, and production? You’re a librarian Amy. I saw the figures before they got me to the hospital. It’s just a matter of time before everything collapses.”
She took his hand in both of hers. “Daddy, please, you have to promise not to think about this. The doctor said it very clearly, no stress, no worrying if you want to get better,” she whispered as she kissed his hand.
Thomas cupped her round, freckled face. “You’re a good child, Amy, you’ve always been,” he murmured, his face tightening. “But it’s my fault, all of this. I knew that I should never have let your brother into the business. He’s not cut out for this kind of work.”
For this, nor for any other, she added silently in her thoughts, but didn’t say it out loud.
“Daddy...” She looked at him with a plea in her dark eyes. “Don’t think about this now. Everything will be all right. There’s always a way, some kind of solution. Now the most important thing is for you to get rest and take care of yourself. You should go for a long holiday, as your doctor advised—away from everything. You cannot really rest well here, where you can’t forget what happened. The change of scenery will be the best for you.”
“I can’t leave now,” he persisted. “People can lose their jobs so easily. This company was founded by my grandfather and now it is going to fall to pieces.” The single tear ran down his cheek. “And that’s all my fault.”
Amy knelt by his side and took his big hand into both of hers. “Daddy, you must start taking care of yourself. You must give yourself a chance and change your lifestyle. That’s the most important thing right now, not the company. I know how important it is for you, but your health is what you should be concerned about now in the first place.”
Thomas shook his head at her, his voice gentle. “Child, I have responsibilities that I cannot forget about, especially now when Peter... when there’s no hope left that your brother will ever be capable of taking over the company after me one day. I need to return to work as soon as possible and bring it back on track. Later, in a couple of years I’ll probably sell it, allowing myself to retire...
“No, Daddy, no,” Amy interrupted him. “The doctor said that things must change now. Don’t you understand? You may not have those couple of years.”
“The company will go bankrupt if I don’t do something radical that will improve the situation. Otherwise, it’s just a matter of weeks, months, perhaps, before everything collapses. They need me now,” Thomas insisted.
“I need you,” she whispered. “That was a very close call. You must be here for me.” She turned her teary face towards him. “I love you so much, Daddy. You’re the only close person in the world I have. What will I do without you?” she bit her lip, tears running down her pale freckled face.
“Don’t cry, Amy.” He lifted his hand to wipe away the wetness from her cheek. “One day I’ll be gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But you won’t always be alone. You’ll marry one day, and your husband will be a very happy man. I know there is a man somewhere in the world who will love you as much you as you deserve.”
She shrugged her shoulders and averted her eyes. There was little point in trying to explain to her father her attitude as far as marriage and love were concerned.
She was just about to open her mouth again, ready to tell her father to swear he would take better care of himself, but she didn’t manage to say anything. She heard the characteristic clatter of her stepmother’s stiletto shoes on the wooden patio floor.
“Oh, hello, Amy. We didn’t expect you to come so early,” her stepmother drawled with a fake smile on her face.
Amy stood up slowly, her posture stiff. She allowed Claire to kiss her effusively on both cheeks. Her stepmother was so much taller than Amy that she had to bend down to do that.
“Hello, Claire,” Amy said coolly, giving Amy a critical look. Amy was just a few years younger than Claire.
Claire Carpenter, the second wife of her father, had guts, Amy admitted. First, she hadn’t even taken the trouble to show up at the hospital until a good few hours after her husband had been taken there. She’d informed Amy she’d had a waxing appointment at the spa. Amy hadn’t even known how to react to this ridiculous explanation at the time when Claire had presented it to her, with all seriousness and a straight face.
And now, when her husband was recovering from the heart attack, she looked as if she’d just returned from the hairdresser’s and manicurist. Amy glared at the unbelievably long, surely artificial nails of Claire’s, additionally decorated with tiny, diamond like crystals. She was about to make a biting remark, but resisted. Father was most important now and he’d always wanted her to be friends with his second wife, something which Amy knew would never happen. She could tolerate Claire—barely tolerate her, to tell the truth, but nothing more.
“Claire, I’d like to hear your opinion on one matter,” she said diplomatically in a firm voice.
Claire glanced at her with obvious surprise, but answered promptly. “Yes?”
“You do remember the doctor advised dad make a complete change of lifestyle, and preferably take a long holiday?” Amy asked. Claire nodded eagerly. “Can you imagine that he refuses to do that? Don’t you think that our responsibility as his closest family is to convince him that he must start taking better care of himself?”
Claire stared at her, not blinking for a moment or two. “Yes, yes, of course,” she mumbled at last. “Of course.”
Amy nodded with satisfaction. “I was trying to convince dad that both of you should leave town for some time,” she said and gave Claire a pointed look. “He needs his rest away from all the problems. I hope you will help me to convince him. The doctor suggested some seaside resort.”
“It sounds great!” Claire’s eyes sparkled and there was little doubt that she was obviously delighted with the idea. “Won’t you agree, darling?” Claire minced on her five inch heels to her husband, bent down, and kissed him on the cheek. “Perhaps New England?” she cooed. “It’s not that hot like Florida is this time of the year.”
Amy walked to the other side of the rattan chair in which her father was cocooned. “I think that’s a very good choice, Daddy. Claire is right that too hot a place won’t be good for you now.”
Thomas sighed in surrender. His warm eyes looked from his wife to his daughter. “I have no other choice I see, both of my women against me,” he said. He took one of each of our hands in his and squeezed them.
“I think that you should go as soon as possible,” Amy advocated, relieved that her father didn’t oppose too much. “Claire, could you see to the arrangements?”
Her stepmother opened her pink painted lips and her forehead frowned.
Amy took pity on her. “I meant that you could perhaps look for the right place to rent for a few weeks at least. Or perhaps some nice quiet hotel? I think that a hotel would be even nicer. What do you think Daddy?”
“Of course. I’ll take care of everything,” Claire said with a very important look written all over her dull face.
Soon Claire tiptoed to the back of house to call the travel agency. The wind blew harder and Amy leaned over her father.
“Daddy, it’s getting cold. Let’s go inside,” she remarked as she wrapped the blanket covering him. To her surprise, he caught her hand and pulled her strongly to him. She leaned over to hear him.
“What’s the matter Daddy?” she asked.
“There’s a way to rescue the company,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “But you would have to go and ask him.”
Amy frowned. “Ask who, Daddy?”
“Jake Barry.”
Amy frowned. “Jake Barry... but why? He’s got his own business now. He stopped working for you many years ago.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Thomas didn’t let go of her hand and whispered quickly. “Yes, but he’s very well to do now. His building company is
perhaps the biggest in town, possibly in the state, and he’s got other businesses as well, other investments. If he agrees to invest in Carpenter & Sons, the company can still be rescued. People will keep their jobs. Will you ask him? Reynolds will help you from the business side. He’ll prepare all the papers.”
Amy stared at her father. Why on earth did her father believe Jake Barry, of all people, to be the only person who could rescue the company? He hadn’t been around for years, had he? Perhaps Dad had been seeing him after Jake left the company and started working on his own, but she simply wasn’t aware of that. She remembered that dad and Jake had always seemed to understand one another. Presuming they still were in contact, why didn’t her dad contact Jake himself? Amy was pretty sure that Jake Barry wouldn’t have refused to help, or at least he would have given some advice, or perhaps helped to convince the banks to wait with the payments.
She frowned as she recalled Jake Barry appearing at the opening of the new wing of the library, designed especially for the children from the poorest families as a kind of after school center. There they could spend time in the afternoons and do their homework. He’d been one of the sponsors, and if she was correct, the main initiator of it, as well. But he’d barely exchanged a few words with her back then, though he’d seemed to look at her often. Since that time, they hadn’t talked at all, and it’d been almost a year ago. She’d seen him several times in her favorite coffeehouse near the library. She’d even acknowledged him with a polite smile and a nod of her head, but he hadn’t tried to initiate conversation. She certainly was not the type of person to make the first move, simply being too shy and having perhaps too much personal dignity.
When she thought now of those unexpected encounters, it struck her how rather strange they’d been. She knew that his office was located in a completely different part of town, so it was rather unusual for him to have his coffee more than half an hour drive away from it. There was always a possibility that he’d had some client nearby.
“But Daddy, I barely know him,” she tried to reason. “He’s rather a good friend of yours, not mine.”
But Thomas stared at her with a serious, half pleading, half determined expression in his eyes. He clenched her hand in his. “Please, daughter, he won’t refuse you.”
Amy’s eyes widened in surprise, her confusion even greater, but seeing how important it was to him, she said gently. “Of course, Daddy, I’ll do as you ask. I’ll talk about the whole matter with Mr. Reynolds, and then try to get an appointment with Jake Barry. “
Thomas pulled at her hand and whispered, “Promise?”
“I promise,” she vowed solemnly. She let out a breath of relief when she noticed him relax at last.
They didn’t have the opportunity to talk more about this as Claire returned. She informed them proudly that she had found a small hotel on Cape Elizabeth. As it was September and after the season, there were fewer guests, so they could go there as soon as tomorrow.
Chapter Two
When Amy returned home, she couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s strange request and his unusual behavior. It was all so very odd. She truly didn’t understand why her father thought that only she, of all people, should ask Jake Barry to invest in Carpenter & Sons. She really didn’t believe that she could talk her father’s former employee into anything. But she’d given her word, and she wasn’t going to go back on it.
She was telling herself repeatedly that it wasn’t a big deal, and that she’d gladly do that for her father’s peace of mind, but it didn’t help at all to ease her apprehension. She had reasons to believe that Jake Barry wouldn’t be willing to help them, especially, if she was the one to ask him.
The following day Amy had the meeting with Mr. Reynolds, the accountant. The man didn’t seem to be very surprised with her father’s idea that Jake Barry could invest in Carpenters & Sons. In less than two hours, he had all the necessary documents about the state of the company prepared for her, the very last sales figures, all the information about the production process, and the company’s debt. He noted at the same time that Jake Barry had probably already known most of it.
Yet the same day, not to lose her courage, she phoned Barry Construction. She gave her name and asked for an appointment with Mr. Barry, as soon as possible. The assistant informed her with an irritating superiority in her voice that it would be very hard to arrange the meeting this week. Mr. Barry’s schedule was full. Amy swallowed her pride, and said that the matter was important, and she would be very be grateful for the opportunity to see him this week despite his very busy schedule. The assistant took Amy’s phone number, and promised to call back soon, but at the same time, she made a point that she couldn’t promise anything.
Her mobile rang the next day when she’d just driven her father and Claire to the airport. Judging by the voice, the woman who phoned her was older than the one she’d talked with before. She introduced herself as Marcia, Mr. Barry’s personal assistant. Amy was informed that quite unexpectedly Mr. Barry had a free afternoon today and he would expect her at two pm. She was rather surprised to get an appointment so quickly. Over the last years, she’d heard the name of Jake Barry quite often, among the most affluent entrepreneurs in town, and even in the entire state. She imagined that such an important CEO should be rather difficult to access.
It was already a few minutes after twelve when she received the call from Jake Barry’s assistant. If she was to be there at two sharp there was really little time to return to her apartment, to change into something more suitable than jeans and the casual sweatshirt she wore. The traffic was heavy that day and with her rather pitiful driving skills, it took her over an hour to get to her place.
She changed quickly into a pair of elegant, grey slacks and a white lacy blouse. She decided it would be safer to take a taxi to be sure not to be late. As a rule, Amy didn’t drive herself, unless there was absolutely no other way. Her father had repeated to her countless times that she would never be a good and confident driver unless she stopped avoiding driving whenever she could. She knew that he was right, but she despised the activity. She’d remembered the driving exam as one of the worst experiences of her teenage life. She’d failed it five times in a row, and that was, in her view, the utmost humiliation for someone who’d got straight A’s all her life.
She had a problem pinning up her long hair, as her hands shook rather badly. Frustrated with the thick mass of her wavy, long hair that didn’t want to cooperate today of all days, she made a mental note to make an appointment with her hairdresser and cut it shorter. Much shorter.
She checked her watch. It was already twenty to one! In a gesture of desperation, she removed all the pins and pulled her hair back into a simple sleek ponytail. That will have to do, she decided as she glanced critically at her own reflection in the mirror. Asking herself why she was so nervous, she remembered one evening almost seven years ago.
It hadn’t been a good time for her back then. She’d taken college very seriously and studied a lot. She’d wanted to have good grades, and make her father proud. But just around that time Dad had started dating Claire, and they’d discovered that Peter had started to drink too much and take drugs, though he’d been only in high school. Jake Barry didn’t work for her father anymore, at that time, being busy with opening a business of his own. He’d been a frequent guest at their home, and she’d remembered preparing dinner for him and Dad a few times.
One day Jake had come to their home in the early evening and completely out of the blue, asked her to go out with him. He’d invited her to dinner and a concert. Her father had been out on a date with Claire so they’d been alone. Peter, as usual, was hanging out with his friends. Without a second thought, she’d refused him. She hadn’t been in the mood for dating, and somehow she’d felt that Jake Barry meant business. He’d been a grown man, and she’d been sheltered and pampered by her father, with no real experience in dating. She’d gone out rarely and those had been most often polite, clumsy
, bookish boys much like herself.
The truth was that she’d always been intimidated by Jake Barry. He’d always been so confident, and sure of himself, not to mention some eight years older than she. She’d seriously doubted whether they could have any topic for conversation. In her eyes he’d been a mature man and, apart from the fact that she couldn’t understand why he’d wanted to go out with her in the first place, she’d felt out of his league.
Jake hadn’t tried to ask her ever again. After that, he hadn’t talked to her much, either. Then her father married Claire, and Amy moved out and started living on her own, and hadn’t seen Jake at all.
As she judged her own reflection in the mirror, she concluded that she looked appropriate for the occasion, neat, elegant, and respectable. She forced a smile on her face. Surely, Jake had forgotten that small incident a long time ago. He couldn’t possibly hold a grudge against her, a nineteen-year-old at the time, for declining his offer of a date. Chances were he likely didn’t remember the incident.
She had to calm down. It was only a meeting for heaven’s sake; she silently scolded herself, feeling her stomach roll. In truth, she was more than sure that he wouldn’t agree to help them. She was doing this only for her father’s peace of mind. That was all.
It was nearly two forty-five when she entered the building of Barry Contractors. It looked very impressive. It was one of the tallest buildings in town, built in the last year or two. She received the plaque card with her name at the reception desk, and was directed to the tenth floor. A middle-aged, elegant woman, dressed entirely in grey, waited for her when she got off the elevator. As she listened to her voice, Amy recognized that it was the assistant she’d talked to earlier today. The woman walked her to one of the doors, opened it without knocking, and led her inside.
“Mr. Barry, Miss Carpenter is here,” she introduced her, and disappeared quickly and quietly, closing the door after herself.
Amy looked around the spacious, imposing room. The space appeared somber, even a bit depressing, certainly the work of some fashionable interior designer from Chicago or some other big city; brown wood, glass and concrete, dark leather couches and armchairs.
