The Couturier of Milan

by Ian Hamilton

  “It also doesn’t seem like we’re going to be picking up any new North American or European accounts.”

  “So Amanda said. Have you talked to Carrie Song yet?”

  “No. I’ll call her when I get back to my condo.”

  “Well, her reaction will tell us just how large this problem is. If she bails after everything she owes you, then I don’t know what we can do.”

  “She doesn’t own Lane Crawford; she works for it. I can’t expect her to put her job and her future at risk for me.”

  “I know. I’ve been wracking my brains for the past hour trying to figure out if there’s anything we can do to stop them. Changxing suggested we hire some topnotch lawyers and go after them. But for what? Ventola offering an opinion? And even if we did find some reason, how long would it take to get some resolution?”

  “I’ve spent two hours walking around in the snow and slush thinking about the same thing.”

  “And what did you come up with?”

  “I kept coming back to something Uncle used to say to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He said that everyone has a weakness, but sometimes we’re so blinded by how strong someone appears that we don’t take the time to look for it.”

  “Have you found one for VLG?”

  “Not yet. I’m still thinking about it,” Ava said.

  “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I know, but we still have more phone calls to make. Maybe something will come to me before we’re finished. In the meantime, I need to contact Carrie Song.”

  May sighed. “The girls in Shanghai will be making more phone calls in a little while as well, and I’ll be doing the same. We can compare notes when we’re finished and see where we’re at.”

  “Do you have much doubt where we’ll be?”

  “No. Those pricks seem to have done a number on us.”

  ( 16 )

  Ava sat at the kitchen table with the notebook she’d started on the flight to Milan open in front of her. She crossed out Ventola and wrote VLG. The situation had become bigger than one man. She turned on her computer and began to verify, add to, and cross-reference the information she’d initially uncovered about the conglomerate.

  Fifteen billion dollars in sales. Six major international brands. Flagship stores in more than fifty countries. Product lines that encompassed the very best in leather goods and fashion, jewellery, watches, shoes, perfume, and liquor, including premium whisky and cognac labels and one of the world’s top champagne producers. What a great job Ventola and Pandolfo have done building this company, she thought. And what a massive footprint they’ve made.

  She entered the web site for Plouffe, VLG’s major French fashion and accessories business, and was starting to identify its component parts when the alarm on her phone sounded. It was time to call Carrie Song. Please be there, she thought.

  “Lane Crawford, Carrie Song’s office,” a receptionist said.

  “This is Ava Lee. I’m calling from Toronto to speak to Ms. Song.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Lee,” the woman said. “Just one moment, I’ll see if she’s available.”

  Ava closed the notebook and turned towards the window. The sleet had morphed into rain. The forecast called for general warming. She hoped they had passed the freezing rain stage.

  “Ms. Lee, she’s on her way from the boardroom and will be right with you,” the receptionist said.

  “Ava,” Carrie said breathlessly, “I already know why you’re calling and I’m so sorry about it all.”

  “I wanted to give you a heads-up. I guess I’m a bit late for that,” she said.

  “Raffi Pandolfo phoned me at home an hour ago.”

  “Raffi himself. You must be important to them. They’ve been using underlings to do their dirty work elsewhere.”

  “I’ve known Raffi a long time. We’re a key account and it was me who referred him to you,” she said. “I feel terrible for Clark. I mean, I know that you, May, and Amanda have a lot of money tied up in the business, but on a personal level I feel most keenly for him. What a horrible thing for them to do. What happened?”

  “We met with them in Milan. They wanted to buy PÖ, to buy Clark. To get control they needed the Three Sisters’ shares. We have no interest in selling, but we left it to Clark to make the decision about who he wants to be his partners moving forward. He chose us. Ventola was angry and made threats. Quite truthfully, we didn’t take them seriously enough.”

  “Even if you had, what could you have done?”

  “Talked some more, but apart from that not much else.”

  “So here we are,” Carrie said.

  “Yes, and here am I calling you to ask —probably unfairly —what you’re going to do. VLG has been phoning potential and current customers and telling them to drop us. I imagine they’ve made the same request of you.”

  Carrie didn’t answer immediately, and in her hesitation Ava felt a lead-up to a complicated rationalization of her decision to drop PÖ from her stores.

  “Nothing,” Carrie said. “I’m going to do nothing.”

  “What?”

  “I wish you didn’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a day and night of nothing but rejection.”

  “I’d read the article in Fashion Times before Raffi called me. I figured something had happened between you, and this was payback,” Carrie said. “I didn’t actually expect to hear from them, but I’d already been thinking about possible repercussions from the story, so I was kind of prepared.”

  “What exactly did Raffi say?”

  “Oh, he wandered around the subject a bit. He claimed that when Dominic and his design team got back to Milan, they reviewed the PÖ show in London and concluded they’d been blinded by Pang Fai’s appearance. He said that when they got into a detailed examination of Clark’s clothes, they found them lacking.”

  “Lacking? That’s it?”

  “No, he also went on to say that in the next few weeks we’ll be contacted by some of their marketing and merchandising people to review our in-store plans for their brands over the next few quarters. He said it was only fair that I should know their people have been instructed to make sure that their products aren’t sold alongside or anywhere near PÖ.”

  “That was subtle.”

  “Not subtle enough. I told Raffi that I will decide what is sold where. I told him I have PÖ inventory and outstanding PÖ orders and that I intend to honour every commitment,” Carrie said. “He hemmed and hawed and then said he understood, and hadn’t expected me to do anything else.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s too soon to say that,” Carrie said. “I told him we’d honour our commitments, and we will. We’ll support you one hundred percent in that regard. But, Ava, you can’t put me in the middle of an ongoing battle between you and Dominic Ventola, or between PÖ and VLG. I’ll back you over the short term, but you need to find a way to resolve this. If you let it drag out, you have no way of winning.”

  “Thank you again for the support, and for being honest. I do know the situation can’t carry on. I was debating about going to Shanghai tomorrow, and I’ve just made up my mind. I can’t solve anything from Canada.”

  “The faster you move, the better it will be for everyone concerned.”

  “Obviously,” Ava said.

  “Could you keep me advised? I don’t want to hear any more news from Raffi. So, good or bad, please call me.”

  “I will.”

  Ava thought about calling Shanghai but instead went online. She booked a business-class seat on an Air Canada flight leaving Toronto at one p.m. the next day. It was a direct flight and would get her into Shanghai at three in the afternoon the day after.

  She phoned her mother’s cell and, as usual, got voicemail. “I can’t make dim sum tomorrow. I’m leaving for Shanghai on some business that just came up. I’ll stay in touch,” she said.

  She started to hit Maria’s number
and then froze when she remembered she wasn’t supposed to call. It felt strange not following the usual routine, but she needed to respect Maria’s wishes. She stood and walked to the bedroom. She hadn’t completely unpacked from the London trip, and in a matter of minutes she had everything she needed for Shanghai in the bag. She returned to the kitchen, sat at the table, and re-entered the world of VLG online. For the next hour she read and made notes, but for everything she found out there were about ten questions that she couldn’t answer. The good thing was that the questions were becoming similar, almost repetitive —mainly variations of who, what, where, when, and how. As she contemplated the list of questions, she smiled. She knew she had the means to answer them all, sooner or later.

  Her phone rang, and she saw it was May.

  “Hi. How is it going on your end?” Ava asked.

  “So-so. We’re not losing everyone, but those who are sticking by us aren’t doing it with much enthusiasm.”

  “Have you talked to Amanda?”

  “Yes, and she’s getting the same feedback from Chi-Tze and Gillian.”

  “Raffi Pandolfo called Carrie.”

  “Oh,” May said, apprehensively.

  “Not to worry, or at least not to worry just yet. Carrie told him she’s honouring all their commitments to us, but she’s asked us to get this behind us as fast as possible.”

  “Or?”

  “There was no ‘or,’ and there didn’t have to be. She’s never going to choose us over VLG unless she doesn’t care about keeping her job.”

  “What constitutes putting this behind us?”

  “We didn’t define it, but I imagine she’d be happy enough if our relationship with VLG was neutral.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m flying to Shanghai tomorrow,” Ava said. “I’d like it if you could join me.”

  “Have you told the others?”

  “Not yet. I just emailed Xu to tell him I’m coming. We may need his help.”

  “So you have a plan? You’ve identified a weakness?”

  “I’m getting there, but I’m still working on it. What I do have is a firm idea of an end result.”

  “Do I have to ask what it is?”

  “I want to see Dominic Ventola on his knees, begging for Clark’s forgiveness.”

  “Couldn’t you come up with something more dramatic?” May said.

  Ava laughed. “I have a lot to do before I get to Shanghai. And when I get there, I’m going to need everyone’s time and support.”

  “My husband isn’t going to be happy about me running off again.”

  “I know, but I need you too.”

  May paused. “Do you really think you can get Ventola to back off?”

  “Why not?” Ava said. “He’s just another man who thinks women were put on this earth to do what they’re told or get run over. There isn’t a man alive who can tell me what to do. And I’m certainly not about to be run over.”

  ( 17 )

  Amanda’s flight from Hong Kong had arrived at Shanghai Pudong International Airport an hour before Ava’s, and she was waiting at the arrivals door when Ava exited. They hugged and then walked to the limo stand. Ava had her Shanghai Tang Double Happiness bag in one hand and her Louis Vuitton case in the other. Amanda rolled an enormous suitcase behind her that Ava knew contained more clothes than she could wear in a week. Amanda never travelled light.

  “How’s Michael?” Ava asked as they settled into the limo.

  “He’s great. He and Simon are on a roll. He sends his love,” she said. “So does Marcus. We had dinner with him and Elizabeth last night.”

  Elizabeth Lee was her father’s first wife, and the pre-eminent female in the Lee clan.

  “I haven’t seen my father in a while,” Ava said.

  “He’s aging well. He doesn’t look fifty, let alone sixty-plus.”

  “Any new wives on the horizon?”

  “Ava!”

  “Sorry.”

  Amanda shrugged. “You’re entitled to say that, I guess. I don’t get it myself, this need to keep trading up for younger women. I know there’s a tradition, but I’ve already told Michael that if he ever suggests doing the same, he’d better sleep with one eye open.”

  “You’ve become bloodthirsty all of a sudden.”

  “Not really. I’ve always felt that way, but now I’m just prepared to admit it.”

  Ava laughed. “Okay, now we should talk about why I wanted you and May to meet me here in Shanghai. I’ve decided that the only way PÖ can survive is for us to go after Ventola and Pandolfo and VLG. Being passive isn’t an option.”

  “I knew that was why you wanted me to come here,” Amanda said. “I told Michael, ‘They’ve tried to bully the wrong person. Ava won’t put up with their shit.’”

  “So you’re onside with whatever I want to do?”

  “You know I am, and you know May will be as well.”

  “How about Gillian, Clark, and Chi-Tze?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think they’ll be willing to do whatever is necessary to help?”

  “After what you did for her in Borneo, Chi-Tze would do just about anything for you. But I don’t know about Clark and Gillian. It may depend on what you have in mind. They haven’t been exposed to the Ava who worked with Uncle.”

  “I’m not envisioning anything as dramatic as Borneo, and this isn’t taking on thugs for a collection job. Our egos, Clark’s reputation, and our bank accounts are maybe at risk here, but not our physical well-being.”

  “So what will you want from them?”

  “I don’t exactly know yet. I just need to know they’re going to be completely behind us.”

  “If it means saving PÖ, I imagine they’ll be willing to do anything.”

  “That’s the answer I want.”

  “I called Chi-Tze when I landed,” Amanda said. “She said you asked her to schedule a meeting at the Peninsula Hotel at five.”

  “I did. I also asked May to book a small conference room next to the business centre. We thought about meeting at the factory, but I decided it might be less distracting in the hotel.”

  PÖ leased a small sample factory in Pudong, where Clark created his designs and his team of seamstresses put them together. If the samples generated orders, those were jobbed out to a large garment factory sixty kilometres away that was owned by one of Xu’s companies.

  “I think that’s a good idea. Chi-Tze says it’s gloomy at the factory right now. No one has said anything to the workers, but they can sense from Gillian and Clark’s mood that things aren’t right,” Amanda said. She reached over to touch Ava’s arm. “What’s your plan?”

  “You’ll have to wait,” Ava said. “I want to tell everyone at once.”

  Amanda gently squeezed her arm but didn’t pursue the question.

  “Look at the construction going on around here,” Ava said, looking out the window. “I keep waiting for it to slow down, but it doesn’t.”

  “Gillian told me that more than five million people live in Pudong now. When Pudong became a special economic zone in the early nineties, I think there were only a couple of hundred thousand inhabitants.”

  “At least we can see the buildings today. The first time I was in Nanjing, the air was so thick and yellow you could barely see through it.”

  Pudong was a district of Shanghai located on the east bank of the Haungpu River. When people on the west bank looked across the river, they faced the looming façades of the two tallest buildings in China —the 101-storey Shanghai World Financial Centre and the 128-storey Shanghai Tower —and two of the next six largest, including the Oriental Pearl Tower. As imposing as they were, Ava thought they paled in comparison to the majesty of the Bund, the walkway lined with banks, trading houses, and consulates that fronted the west bank. Built in the late 1800s and early 1900s in what was then the Shanghai International Settlement, the Bund had fifty-two buildings that had somehow survived civil war, Japanese occupation, th
e early days of communism, and the more recent mania for razing and redeveloping entire cities.

  Quaintly numbered “No. 1, The Bund” to “No. 52, The Bund,” the buildings showcased a mixture of beaux arts, art deco, Gothic, and Renaissance revival architecture. The original tenants had all left or been displaced, and many of the buildings had been modernized and transformed. Their hotel, the Peninsula, was on the Bund. It was an art deco masterpiece built on property that had been part of the Consulate General of the United Kingdom.

  Traffic in Shanghai was unpredictable, and gridlock wasn’t uncommon along and near the Bund. As they crossed Waibaidu Bridge, Ava expected the worst when they reached the other side, but traffic was moving smoothly and they were at the Peninsula in good time.

  May had made their reservations and as usual had put them in suites. Amanda had a river suite, and Ava one that overlooked the former gardens of the British Consulate and a stretch of Suzhou Creek, which flowed into the Huangpu River. Ava had stayed in the same room on three previous visits, and she almost felt at home. She quickly unpacked, showered, slipped on a pair of a black linen slacks and a plain white cotton shirt, and headed out the door, carrying the bag that contained her notebook, pen, and phone.

  The others were already there when she got to the conference room. They stood when she walked in and there was a general round of hugs and kisses. When they sat down, Ava felt the tension in the room.

  “How was the flight?” May asked Ava.

  “It was okay. I was so anxious to get here it seemed longer than it was.”

  “Our thanks to you, May, and Amanda for coming,” Gillian said.

  Ava looked at her and Clark. Both of them appeared distracted.

  “How are you holding up?” Ava asked.

  “I haven’t slept in two nights,” said Clark.

  “I’m the same,” Gillian added.