The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  The phone rang and Richard leaned over to answer it, not letting go of Florentyna.

  “Hello?”

  “Richard, it’s Mother. I’ve been trying to get away from the house. Have you heard the news?”

  “Yes, I’ve just read it in The Wall Street Journal. What in heaven’s name made Father resign?”

  “I’m not certain of all the details myself, but as far as I can gather, Mr. Rosnovski has held six percent of the bank’s shares for the past ten years, and for some reason he only needed eight percent to be able to remove your father from the chair.”

  “To invoke Article Seven,” said Richard.

  “Yes, that’s right. But I’m still not sure what that means.”

  “Well, Father had the clause put into the bank’s bylaws to protect himself from ever being taken over. He considered the clause was foolproof because only someone in possession of eight percent or more could challenge his authority. He never imagined anyone other than the family could ever get their hands on such a large stake in the company. Father would never have given up his fifty-one percent of Kane and Cabot to become chairman of Lester’s if he had felt an outsider could remove him.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why he had to resign.”

  “I suppose Florentyna’s father somehow got hold of another two percent. That would have given him the same powers as Father and made life at the bank impossible for him as chairman.”

  “But how could he make life impossible?” It was now obvious to Richard that his father had not even confided in Kate concerning what was happening at the bank.

  “Among the safeguards that Article Seven stipulates, if I remember correctly,” Richard continued, “is that anyone in possession of eight percent of the shares can hold up any transaction the bank is involved in for ninety days. I know from the bank’s audit that Mr. Rosnovski held six percent. I suppose he obtained the other two percent from Peter Parfitt.”

  “No, he didn’t get the shares from Parfitt,” said Kate. “I know your father managed to secure those shares by getting an old friend to purchase them for considerably more than they are worth, which is why he felt so relaxed lately and confident about the future.”

  “Then the real mystery is how Mr. Rosnovski got hold of the other two percent. I know no one on the board who would have parted with their own shares unless…”

  “Your three minutes are up, ma’am.”

  “Where are you, Mother?”

  “I’m in a pay phone. Your father has forbidden any of us to contact you ever again and he never wants to set eyes on Florentyna.”

  “But this has nothing to do with her, she’s—”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your three minutes are up.”

  “I’ll pay for the call, operator.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the call has been disconnected.”

  Richard replaced the phone reluctantly.

  Florentyna looked up. “Can you forgive me, darling, for having a father who was involved in such a terrible thing? I know I will never forgive him.”

  “Never prejudge anyone, Jessie,” said Richard as he stroked her hair. “I suspect that if we ever discover the truth we shall find that the blame is fairly evenly distributed on both sides. Now, young lady, you have two children and six stores to worry about and I, no doubt, have irate customers waiting for me at the bank. Put this whole incident behind you because I am convinced that the worst is now over.”

  Florentyna continued to cling to her husband, thankful for the strength of his words, even if she did not believe them.

  Abel read the announcement of William Kane’s resignation in The Wall Street Journal the same day. He picked up the phone, dialed Lester’s Bank and asked to speak to the new chairman. A few seconds later Jake Thomas came on the line. “Good morning, Mr. Rosnovski.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Thomas. I’m just phoning to confirm that I shall release this morning my eight percent holding in Lester’s to you personally for two million dollars.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rosnovski, that’s most generous of you.”

  “No need to thank me, Mr. Chairman; it’s no more than we agreed on when you sold me your two percent.”

  Florentyna realized that it would take a considerable time to recover from the blow inflicted by her father. She wondered how it was still possible to love him and to hate him at the same time. She tried to concentrate on her fast-growing empire and to put the thought of never seeing her father again out of her mind.

  Another blow, not as personal, but every bit as tragic for Florentyna, was delivered on November 22, 1963. Richard called her from the bank, something he had never done before, to tell her that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.

  Chapter

  Twenty

  Florentyna’s newly acquired Italian designer, Gianni di Ferranti, had come up with the idea of putting a small entwined double F on the collar or hem of all his garments. It looked most impressive and only enhanced the company’s reputation. Although Gianni was the first to admit that it was nothing more than a copy of an idea that Yves Saint-Laurent had used, nevertheless it worked.

  Florentyna found time to fly to Los Angeles to look over a property that was up for sale on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Once she had seen it, she told Richard she had plans for a seventh Florentyna’s. He said he would need to study the figures carefully before he could advise her if she should take up the lease that was offered, but he was under such pressure at the bank that it might have to wait a few days.

  Not for the first time Florentyna felt the need of a partner or at least a financial director, now that Richard was so overworked. She would have liked to ask him to join her, but she felt diffident about suggesting it.

  “You’ll have to put an advertisement in the Chronicle and see how many replies you get,” said Richard. “I’ll help you screen them and we can interview the short list together.”

  Florentyna followed Richard’s instructions and within days the letters flooded in from bankers, lawyers and accountants, all of whom showed considerable interest in the appointment. Richard helped Florentyna sift through the replies. Halfway through the evening he paused over a particular letter and said: “I’m crazy.”

  “I know, my darling, that’s why I married you.”

  “We’ve wasted four hundred dollars.”

  “Why? You felt sure the advertisement would turn out to be an investment.”

  Richard handed her the letter he had been reading.

  “Seems well qualified,” said Florentyna, after she had read it through. “And since he’s at the Bank of America, you must have your own opinion as to whether he’s suitable to be my financial director.”

  “Undoubtedly. But who do you imagine will fill his position if he leaves the bank to join you?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Well, since he’s my immediate superior, it might be me,” said Richard.

  Florentyna burst out laughing. “And to think I didn’t have the courage to ask you. Still, I consider it four hundred dollars well spent—partner.”

  Richard Kane left the Bank of America four weeks later and joined his wife as a 50 percent partner and the financial director of Florentyna Inc. of San Francisco, Los Angeles and San Diego.

  Another election went by. Florentyna didn’t become involved because she was so overworked with her expanding empire. She admitted to Richard that she couldn’t trust Johnson and despised Goldwater. Richard put a bumper sticker on their car, and Florentyna immediately tore it off:

  Au + H2O = 1964

  They agreed not to discuss the subject again, although Florentyna did gloat over the Democratic landslide that followed in November.

  During the next year, only their two children grew more quickly than the company, and on their son’s fifth birthday they opened two more Florentyna’s: in Chicago and Boston. Richard remained cautious about the speed at which the shops were springing up, but Florentyna’s pace never faltered. With so
many new customers wanting to wear Gianni di Ferranti’s clothes, she spent most of her spare time combing cities for prime sites.

  By 1966 there was only one important city that did not boast a Florentyna’s. She realized it might be years before a site fell vacant on the only avenue fit for the Florentyna’s of New York.

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  “You’re a stubborn old fool, Abel.”

  “I know, but I can’t turn the clock back now.”

  “Well, I can tell you, nothing’s going to stop me from accepting the invitation.”

  Abel looked up from his bed. He had hardly left the penthouse since his bout with pneumonia six months before. After he had returned from an extensive trip to Poland, George was almost his only contact with the outside world. Abel knew that his oldest friend was right and he had to admit that it was tempting. He wondered if Kane would be going. He found himself hoping so, but he doubted it. The man was every bit as stubborn as he was….

  George voiced Abel’s thoughts: “I bet William Kane will be there.”

  Abel made no comment. “Do you have the final rundown on Warsaw?”

  “Yes,” George said sharply, angry that Abel had changed the subject. “All the agreements are signed and John Gronowski couldn’t have been more cooperative.”

  John Gronowski. The first Polish ambassador to Warsaw, reflected Abel. He would never recover from…

  “Your trip to Poland last year has achieved everything you could have hoped for. You will live to open the Warsaw Baron.”

  “I always wanted Florentyna to open it,” said Abel quietly.

  “Then invite her, but don’t expect any sympathy from me. All you have to do is acknowledge Richard’s existence. And even you must have woken up to the fact that their marriage is a success—otherwise that wouldn’t be on the mantelpiece.” George pointed to the unanswered invitation.

  Everyone in New York seemed to be there when, on March 4, 1967, Florentyna Kane opened her new boutique, on Fifth Avenue. Florentyna, wearing a green dress that had been specially designed for her with the now famous double F on the high collar, stood near the entrance of the shop greeting her guests and offering them a glass of champagne. Katherine Kane, accompanied by her daughter Lucy, was among the first to arrive, and very quickly the floor was crowded with people whom Florentyna either knew very well or had never seen before. George Novak arrived a little later and delighted Florentyna by his first request—to be introduced to the Kanes.

  “Will Mr. Rosnovski be coming later?” Lucy asked innocently.

  “I’m afraid not,” said George. “I told him that he was a stubborn old fool to miss such a good party. Is Mr. Kane here?”

  “No, he’s not been well lately and rarely leaves the house nowadays,” said Kate, and she then confided to George a piece of news that delighted him.

  “How is my father?” Florentyna whispered into George’s ear.

  “Not well. I left him in bed in the penthouse. Perhaps when he hears that tonight you’re going to…”

  “Perhaps,” said Florentyna. She then took Kate by the arm and introduced her to Zaphia. For a moment, neither of the two ladies spoke. Then Zaphia said, “It’s wonderful to meet you at last. Is your husband with you?”

  The room became so crowded that it was almost impossible to move, and the ringing laughter and chatter left Florentyna in no doubt that the opening was going extremely well. But now she had only one thing on her mind: dinner that evening.

  Outside, a large crowd had gathered on the corner of Fifty-sixth Street to stare at what was going on and the traffic on Fifth Avenue had nearly come to a standstill as men and women, young and old, peered through the large plate-glass windows.

  A man stood in a doorway across the street, watching. He wore a black coat, a scarf around his neck and a hat pulled well down on his head. It was a cold evening and the wind was whistling down Fifth Avenue. Not a day for old men, he thought, and wondered if after all it had been wise to leave the warmth of his bed. But he was determined that nothing would prevent his witnessing the opening of this store. He fiddled with the silver band around his wrist and remembered the new will he had made, not leaving the heirloom to his daughter as he had originally promised.

  He smiled as he watched young people surge in and out of the splendid store. Through the window he could just make out his ex-wife talking to George, and then he saw Florentyna, and a tear trickled down his lined cheek. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. He wanted to cross the street that separated them and say, “George was right, I’ve been a stubborn old fool for far too long. Can you possibly forgive me?” but instead he just stood and stared, his feet remaining fixed to the ground. He saw a young man by his daughter’s side, tall, self-assured and aristocratic—he could only be the son of William Kane. A fine man, George had told him. How had he described him? Florentyna’s strength. Abel wondered if Richard hated him and feared that he must. The old man pushed up his collar, took one last look at his beloved daughter and turned to retrace his steps to the Baron.

  As he walked away from the store he saw another man heading slowly along the sidewalk. He was taller than Abel, but his walk was just as unsteady. Their eyes met, but only for a moment, and as they passed each other the taller of the old men raised his hat. Abel returned the compliment and they continued on their separate ways without a word.

  “Thank heavens, the last one has gone,” said Florentyna. “And only just enough time for a bath before changing for dinner.”

  Katherine Kane kissed her and said, “Goodbye for an hour.”

  Florentyna locked the front door of the store and, holding her children’s hands tightly, she walked with them uptown. It would be the first time since her childhood that she had stayed in a hotel in New York other than the Baron.

  “Another day of triumph for you, my darling,” said Richard.

  “To be followed by a night?”

  “Oh, stop fussing, Jessie. Father will adore you.”

  “It’s been such a long time, Richard.”

  Richard followed her through the front door of the Pierre, then caught up with his wife and put his arm around her. “Eleven wasted years, but now we have the chance to make up for the past.” Richard guided his family toward the elevators. “I’ll make sure the children are washed and dressed while you have your bath.”

  Florentyna lay in the bath, wondering how the evening would turn out. From the moment Kate Kane had told her of Richard’s father’s desire to see them all, she had feared he would change his mind once again, but now the meeting was only an hour away. She wondered if Richard was having the same misgivings. She stepped out of the bath, dried herself before dabbing on a hint of Joy, her favorite scent, and a long blue dress specially chosen for the occasion: Kate had told her that her husband’s favorite color was blue. She hunted through her jewelry for something simple and slipped on the antique ring given to her so long ago by her father’s backer. When she was fully dressed she stared at herself critically in the mirror: thirty-three, no longer young enough to wear mini skirts nor old enough to be elegant.

  Richard came in from the adjoining room. “You look stunning,” he said. “The old man will fall in love with you on sight.” Florentyna smiled and brushed the children’s hair while Richard changed. Their son, now seven, was wearing his first suit and looked quite grown-up; Annabel had on a red dress with a white ribbon around the hem: she had no problem with the latest mini fashion.

  “I think we’re all ready,” said Florentyna when Richard reappeared. She couldn’t believe her eyes: he was wearing a shirt with a thin red stripe running through it.

  The chauffeur opened the door of their hired Lincoln, and Florentyna followed her children into the back. Richard took a place in the front. As the car drove slowly through the crowded New York streets Florentyna sat in silence. Richard leaned over the back of his seat and touched her hand. The chauffeur came to a stop outside a small but elegant brownstone
on East Sixty-eighth Street.

  “Now, children, remember, you must be on your best behavior,” said Florentyna.

  “Yes, Mummy,” they said in unison, unawed by the thought of at last meeting one of their grandfathers.

  Before they had even stepped out of the car the front door of the house was opened by an elderly man in a cutaway who bowed slightly.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” he said. “And how nice to see you again, Mr. Richard.”

  Kate was waiting in the hall to greet them. Florentyna’s eyes were immediately drawn to an oil painting of a beautiful woman who sat in a crimson leather chair, hands resting in her lap.

  “Richard’s grandmother,” said Kate. “I never knew her, but it’s easy to see why she was considered one of the beauties of her day.”

  Florentyna continued to stare.

  “Is something wrong, my dear?” Kate asked.

  “The ring,” she said, barely in a whisper.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Kate, holding up her hand to display a diamond and sapphire ring. “William gave it to me when he asked me to be his wife.”

  “No, the other one in the portrait,” said Florentyna.

  “The antique one, yes, quite magnificent. It had been in the family for generations, but I fear it’s been lost for some years. When I remarked on its disappearance to William he said he knew nothing of it.”

  Florentyna raised her right hand and Kate stared down at the antique ring in disbelief. They all looked at the oil painting—there was absolutely no doubt.

  “It was a christening present,” said Florentyna. “Only I never knew who gave it to me.”

  “Oh, my God,” said Richard. “It never crossed my mind—”

  “And my father still doesn’t know,” said Florentyna.

  A maid bustled into the hall. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’ve told Mr. Kane that everybody has arrived. He asked if Richard and his wife would be kind enough to go up on their own.”