The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  “Oh, I wondered if Mr. Kane was in,” said a lady’s voice. She sounded a long way off.

  “No, I’m sorry, he has already left for work. Would you like to leave a message? It’s Florentyna Kane speaking.”

  There was no immediate reply and then the voice said: “It’s Katherine Kane. Please don’t hang up.”

  “Why should I do that, Mrs. Kane?” said Florentyna, her knees feeling so weak that she sank into a chair beside the phone.

  “Because you must hate me, my dear, and I can’t blame you,” Richard’s mother said quickly.

  “No, of course I don’t hate you. Would you like Richard to call you back when he comes home?”

  “Oh, no. My husband doesn’t realize that I’m in touch with him. He would be very angry if he ever found out. No, what I was really hoping for will finally depend on you.”

  “On me?”

  “Yes. I desperately want to visit you and Richard and see my grandson—if you’ll allow me.”

  “I’d like that very much, Mrs. Kane,” said Florentyna, not sure how she could sound more welcoming.

  “Oh, how considerate of you. My husband is going to a conference in Mexico in three weeks’ time, and I could fly out on a Friday. Only I would have to be back first thing on Monday morning.”

  When Richard heard the news he went straight to the refrigerator. Florentyna followed, bewildered. She smiled as he slipped the gold foil from Claude’s bottle of Krug and began pouring.

  Three weeks later Florentyna accompanied Richard to the airport to welcome his mother.

  “But you’re beautiful!” were Florentyna’s first words as she greeted the elegant, slender lady who showed not the slightest sign of having spent the last six hours on a plane. “And you make me feel terribly pregnant.”

  “What were you expecting, my dear? An ogre with red horns and a long black tail?”

  Florentyna laughed as Katherine Kane put an arm through hers and they walked off together, temporarily forgetting her son.

  Richard was relieved to see how quickly the two of them became friends. When they arrived back at the apartment, Katherine reacted in the time-honored way when she set eyes on her first grandchild.

  “I do wish your father could see his grandson,” she said. “But I fear it’s now reached a stage where he won’t even allow the subject to be discussed.”

  “Do you know any more than we do about what is happening between the two men?” asked Richard.

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. Your father refused to let the bank support Davis Leroy when his hotel group collapsed and Florentyna’s father therefore blames my husband for the subsequent suicide of Mr. Leroy. The whole unfortunate episode might have ended there if Henry Osborne hadn’t come on to the scene.” She sighed. “I pray to God the problem will be sorted out in my lifetime.”

  “I fear one of them will have to die before the other comes to his senses,” said Richard. “They are both so confoundedly obstinate.”

  The four of them had a wonderful weekend together even if Kate’s grandson did spend most of his time throwing his toys onto the floor. When they drove Katherine back to the airport on Sunday night, she agreed to come and see them the next time her husband was away on business. Katherine’s last words to Florentyna were “If only you and my husband could meet, he would realize immediately why Richard fell in love with you.”

  As she turned to wave goodbye, her grandson repeated his one-word vocabulary: “Dada.” Katherine Kane laughed. “What chauvinists men are. That was also Richard’s first word. Has anyone ever told you what yours was, Florentyna?”

  Annabel came screaming into this world a few weeks later, and her parents held a double celebration at the end of the year when Florentyna’s delivered a profit of $19,174. Richard decided to mark the occasion by spending a small part of the profits on a dual golf membership at the Olympic Club.

  Richard was given more responsibility in the overseas department of the bank and started returning home an hour later. Florentyna decided the time had come to employ a full-time nanny so that she could concentrate on her work in the stores. She realized she would never find a Miss Tredgold, but Bella recommended a black girl named Carol who had graduated from high school the year before and was finding it hard to get a job. Their son threw his arms around Carol the moment he met her. It brought home to Florentyna that prejudice was something a child only learns from its elders.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  “I can’t believe it,” said Florentyna. “I never thought it would happen. What wonderful news. But what made him change his mind?”

  “He’s not getting any younger,” said Katherine Kane, her voice crackling over the phone, “and he’s frightened that if he and Richard don’t patch up their differences soon, he will retire from Lester’s without a son on the board. He also believes that the man most likely to succeed him in the chair is Jake Thomas. Mr. Thomas is only two years older than Richard and he certainly won’t want a younger man—especially a Kane—in the boardroom.”

  “I wish Richard were at home so I could tell him the news. But since he’s been promoted to head of the overseas department, he rarely gets back before seven. He’ll be so pleased. I’ll try not to show how nervous I am about meeting your husband,” said Florentyna.

  “Not half as nervous as he is about meeting you. But have no fears, my dear, he’s preparing the fatted calf for his prodigal son. Have you heard anything from your father since I last spoke to you?”

  No, nothing. I fear there’s never going to be a fatted calf for the prodigal daughter.”

  “Don’t give up; something may yet arise to make him see the light. We’ll put our heads together when you come to New York.”

  “I would love to believe it was still possible for Papa and Mr. Kane to be reconciled, but I’ve almost given up hope.”

  “Well, let’s be thankful that one father has at least come to his senses,” said Katherine. “I’ll fly out to see you and fix up all the details.”

  “How soon can you come?”

  “I could get away this weekend.”

  When Richard came home that evening he was overjoyed by the news and once he had finished reading the next chapter of Winnie the Pooh to his son, he settled down to listen to the details of his mother’s news.

  “We could go to New York around November,” said Richard.

  “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

  “You’ve waited for over six years.”

  “Yes, but that’s different.”

  “You always want everything to have happened yesterday, Jessie. That reminds me, I read your proposal for the new store in San Diego.”

  “And?”

  “Basically the idea makes a lot of sense and I approve.”

  “Good heavens. What next? I never thought I would hear such words from you, Mr. Kane.”

  “Now hold on, Jessie. It doesn’t get my wholehearted support because the one part of your expansion program I don’t understand is the necessity to employ your own designer.”

  “That’s easy enough to explain,” said Florentyna. “Although we now have five shops, my expenditure on buying clothes remains as high as forty percent of turnover. If my own models were designed for me, I would have two obvious advantages. First, I could cut down my immediate expenditure, and second, we would be continually advertising our own product.”

  “It also has a major disadvantage,” suggested Richard.

  “What’s that?”

  “There can be no rebate on clothes returned within ninety days if we already own them.”

  “Agreed,” said Florentyna. “But the more we expand, the more that problem will diminish. And if I choose the right designer we’ll end up with our trademark clothes also being sold by our rivals.”

  “Has that proved worthwhile for other designers?”

  “In the case of Pierre Cardin, the designer became more famous than the stores.”

  “Finding such a ma
n won’t be easy.”

  “Didn’t I find you, Mr. Kane?”

  “No, Jessie, I found you.”

  Florentyna smiled. “Two children, a sixth shop, and you’re going to be invited to join the board of Lester’s. Most important of all, I have a chance to meet your father. What more could we want?”

  “It hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Typical banker. Whatever the forecast, you expect it to rain by midafternoon.”

  Annabel started to cry.

  “See what I mean?” said Richard. “Your daughter’s at it again.”

  “Why is it always my daughter who is bad and your son who is good?”

  Despite Florentyna’s desire to travel to New York immediately after Kate had returned to the East Coast, she was more than fully occupied with opening the new shop in San Diego, keeping an eye on the other five stores, and somehow looking for the right designer—while still trying to be a mother. As the day for their journey to New York grew nearer, she became more and more nervous. She selected her own wardrobe carefully and bought several new outfits for the children. She even purchased a new shirt with a thin red stripe running through it for Richard, but she doubted that he would wear it except on weekends. Florentyna lay awake each night anxious that Richard’s father might not approve of her, but Richard kept reminding her of Katherine’s words: “…not half as nervous as he is.”

  To celebrate the opening of the sixth store and the imminent reconciliation with his father, Richard took Florentyna to a performance of The Nutcracker by the Italian State Ballet Company at the War Memorial Opera House. Richard didn’t care much for the ballet himself, but he was surprised to find Florentyna equally restless during the performance. As soon as the house lights went up for the intermission he asked if anything was wrong.

  “Yes. I’ve been waiting almost an hour to find out who designed those fabulous costumes.” Florentyna started to thumb through her program.

  “I would have described them as outrageous,” said Richard.

  “That’s because you’re color-blind,” said Florentyna. Having found what she was looking for, she started reading the program notes to Richard. “His name is Gianni di Ferranti and his biographical sketch says he was born in Milan in 1931 and is on his first tour with the ballet company since leaving the Institute of Modern Art in Florence. I wonder if he would consider resigning from the company and working for me.”

  “I wouldn’t, with the inside information I have on the company,” said Richard helpfully.

  “Perhaps he’s more adventurous than you, darling.”

  “Or just mad. After all, he is Italian.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” said Florentyna, standing up.

  “And how do you propose doing that?”

  “By going backstage.”

  “But you’ll miss the second half.”

  “The second half might not change my whole life,” said Florentyna, stepping into the aisle.

  Richard followed her out of the theater and they made their way around the outside of the building in silence until they reached the stage door. A young security guard pushed open his window.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, sounding as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Yes,” Florentyna said. “I have an appointment with Gianni di Ferranti.” She sounded very self-assured.

  Richard looked at his wife disapprovingly.

  “Your name, please,” said the guard, picking up a phone.

  “Florentyna Kane.”

  The guard repeated the name into the mouthpiece, listened for a moment, then replaced the receiver.

  “He says he’s never heard of you.”

  Florentyna was taken aback for a moment, but Richard took out his wallet and placed a twenty-dollar bill on the ledge in front of the guard.

  “Perhaps he has heard of me,” said Richard.

  “You better go and find out,” said the guard, casually removing the bill. “Through the door take the corridor to your right. Second floor on the left,” he added before slamming down the window.

  Richard led Florentyna to the stairs.

  “Most businessmen are involved in a little bribery at some stage in their careers,” she teased.

  “Now, don’t get annoyed just because your lie failed,” said Richard, grinning.

  When they reached the room, Florentyna knocked firmly and put her head around the half-opened door.

  A tall, dark-haired Italian was seated in one corner of the room eating spaghetti. Florentyna’s first reaction was one of admiration. He was wearing a pair of tailored jeans and blue blazer over a casual open-necked shirt. But the thing that struck her most was the young man’s long, artistic fingers. The moment he saw Florentyna he rose gracefully to his feet.

  “Gianni,” she began expansively. “What a privilege—”

  “No,” said the man in a soft Italian accent. “He’s in the washroom.”

  Richard smirked and received a sharp kick on the ankle. Florentyna was about to speak again when the door opened and in walked a man no more than five feet five who was nearly bald, although Florentyna knew from the program notes that he was not yet thirty. His clothes were beautifully cut, but the spaghetti had had a greater effect on his waistline than on his friend’s.

  “Who are these people, Valario?”

  “Mrs. Florentyna Kane,” said Florentyna before the young man could speak. “And this is my husband, Richard.”

  “What do you want?” he asked, not looking at her while taking the seat opposite his companion.

  “To offer you a job as my designer.”

  “Not another one,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

  Florentyna took a deep breath. “Who else has spoken to you?”

  “In New York, Yves Saint-Laurent. In Los Angeles, Pierre Cardin. As well as countless others in London, Paris and Rome. Need I go on?”

  “But did they offer you a percentage of the profits?”

  What profits? Richard wanted to ask, but remembered the kick on the ankle.

  “I already have six shops and we have plans for another six in the pipeline,” Florentyna continued impulsively. She hoped that Gianni di Ferranti hadn’t noticed her husband’s eyebrows rising dramatically at her words.

  “The turnover could be millions within a few years,” she said.

  “Saint-Laurent’s turnover already is,” said di Ferranti, still not turning to face her.

  “Yes, but what did they offer you?”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars a year and one percent of the profits.”

  “I’ll offer you twenty and five percent.”

  The Italian waved a dismissive hand.

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars and ten percent?” she said.

  The Italian laughed, rose from his chair and opened the door for Florentyna and Richard to leave. She stood firm.

  “You are the sort of person that would expect Zeffirelli to be available to design your next shop while still hoping to retain Luigi Ferpozzi as honorary advisor. Not that I could expect you to understand what I’m talking about,” he added.

  “Luigi,” said Florentyna haughtily, “is a dear friend of mine.”

  The Italian placed his hands on his hips and roared with laughter. “You Americans are all the same. Next you’ll be saying you designed the Pope’s vestments.”

  Richard had some sympathy with him.

  “Your bluff is called, Signora. Ferpozzi came to see the show in Los Angeles only last week and spoke to me at length about my work. Now at least I have found a way to be rid of you.” Di Ferranti left the door open and picked up the phone on his dresser and without another word dialed a 213 number. No one spoke while he waited for the call to be answered. Eventually Florentyna heard a voice from the other end of the line.

  “Luigi?” said di Ferranti. “It’s Gianni. I have an American lady with me called Mrs. Kane who claims she is a friend of yours.”

  He listened for a
few moments, his smile becoming broader.

  “He says he doesn’t know anyone called Mrs. Kane and perhaps you would feel more at home on Alcatraz?”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” said Florentyna. “But tell him he thinks my father built it.”

  Gianni di Ferranti repeated Florentyna’s sentiments over the phone. As he listened to the reply his face became puzzled. He finally looked back at her. “Luigi says to offer you a cup of tea. But only if you’ve brought your own pot.”

  It took Florentyna two lunches, one dinner with Richard, one with her bankers, and a big enough advance to move Gianni and his friend Valario from Milan to a new home in San Francisco to persuade the little Italian to join her as the company’s new in-house designer. Florentyna was confident that this was the breakthrough she had been looking for. In the excitement of negotiating with Gianni she quite forgot they were only six days away from going to New York to meet Richard’s father.

  Florentyna and Richard were having breakfast that Monday morning when his face turned so white that she thought he was going to faint.

  “What’s the matter, darling?”

  He pointed to the front page of The Wall Street Journal as if unable to speak. Florentyna read the bald announcement and silently handed the paper back to her husband. He read the statement slowly for a second time to be certain he understood the full implications. The brevity and force of the words were stunning: “William Lowell Kane, the president and chairman of Lester’s Bank, resigned after Friday’s board meeting.”

  Richard knew that Wall Street would put the worst interpretation possible on such a sudden departure, made without explanation or any suggestion of illness, especially as his only son, a banker, had not been invited to take his place on the board. He put his arms around Florentyna and held her close to his chest.

  “Does it mean our trip to New York will be canceled?”

  “Not unless your father was the cause.”

  “It can’t happen—I won’t let it happen. Not after waiting so long.”