Roberta Leigh - Love in Store

by Roberta Leigh

  "Couldn't Uncle John have left that ten percent to one of the other directors? They know more about the business than I do."

  "They're also more prejudiced. No, Samantha, you were an ideal choice. You're honest, intelligent, and incorruptible."

  Samantha was touched by this remark and liked Larry more at this moment than at any time since she had met him. He sensed her mood and took advantage of it by hailing a taxi for their short journey back to the store, kissing her swiftly but expertly before they drew up at the front entrance.

  "Are you really going to go on with this nonsense of working your way through all of the departments?" he said as he escorted her to the elevator.

  She nodded. "Short of dividing my shares between you and Zachary, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

  "You could give them all to me," he teased, and waved good-by as the elevator door closed.

  His tone had been light but she was sure his words weren't. Larry was as devious as Zachary but more subtle in showing it. She sighed and wished her godfather had not put her in this awkward predicament, or at least had talked to her about it when he had stayed with them in Ireland. If only she knew what he wanted her to do. Yet if he had known what to do himself he would not have given her a commanding vote in the event of his two nephews disagreeing on policy.

  She reached the third floor and walked through Lingerie and Cosmetics to the dress section. Madame Vonet had not returned from lunch and Samantha was glad of the opportunity of relaxing for a few minutes. Hearing about Marie Bergerac had ruffled her mood and she needed a chance to smooth herself down. The telephone rang in the buyer's office and she hurried to answer it, her hackles rising as she recognized the low, deep voice that came down the line.

  "Zachary Farrell," he said.

  Deliberately she misunderstood him. "You want the executives' floor, sir. You are on to the Dress Department."

  "I know I am. I also know I'm speaking to Miss Byers."

  "How clever of you to recognize my voice, Mr. Farrell," she cooed. "Are you ringing to warn me that you are on your way down?"

  "I am ringing to remind you that while you are working your way round the company it will be best for our good name if you create as little disturbance as possible."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "It isn't my pardon you need, Miss Byers. It's Miss Bergerac's."

  "Are you suggesting I was rude to your girl friend?" Samantha asked stormily.

  "You were rude to a client," he snapped. "That's something Farrell's won't stand for."

  "I'm part of Farrell's too," she snapped back. "Ten percent of it, Mr. Zachary! You'd do well to remember it."

  She banged down the receiver and glared at it as if it were Zachary Farrell's head. The bell rang again and she jumped back in fright, then caught her breath and picked up the receiver.

  "We were cut off," he said.

  "No we weren't, Mr. Farrell. I put down the telephone and I'll do it again if you talk to me the way you just did."

  There was silence for a few seconds.

  "Look, Miss Byers," his voice was so quiet she had to press the receiver hard to her ears to hear it. "I have had a busy morning and I have a busy afternoon ahead of me. The one thing I do not relish is to be the center of an argument between two irate females. Miss Bergerac was extremely upset at what happened this morning."

  "So she should be. Not content with getting her clothes free, she is also ruining the ones she doesn't take!"

  This time it was the man who slammed down the telephone and Samantha's astonishment gave way to amusement as she immediately dialed his office and asked to be put through to him.

  "We were cut off," she said sweetly as he came on the line.

  "And we are being cut off again!" he said, and banged the phone down so loudly that it clanked in her ear.

  Giggling, she worked her way through the rest of the afternoon, in such good humor that she could even take Madame Vonet's incivility in her stride.

  But that evening, thinking over the events of the day, she was surprised by Zachary Farrell's telephone call. If he was foolish enough to listen to his girl friend's account of what had happened at the store, he should also have been sufficiently businesslike to have heard her own account before judging her and finding her guilty. She was surprised he should behave so emotionally and saw it as a sign of his close involvement with the French girl.

  "He's as stupid as all men when they are in love," she said aloud, and immediately thought of Peter, who had never done what Jackie had wanted. Why did girls of Marie Bergerac's type —hard-faced little go-getters—always find tilings so much easier than genuine types like Jackie? She flipped idly through a glossy magazine to give herself something else to think about, and stopped as Marie Bergerac's pert face smiled out at her from above the collar of an exquisite chinchilla jacket.

  "Mademoiselle Bergerac and Mr. Zachary Farrell, attending the first night of Henri Bergerac's new play Light of Day."

  So the playwright Bergerac was Marie's father. Samantha pulled a face. At least the girl was not hard up for money, which made her behavior with Zachary all the more extraordinary. Still, everyone had their own ideas of what constituted independence. And a good thing, too, Samantha thought, for the world would be very dull if we were all alike. She stood up and, glimpsing her reflection in the mock Chippendale mirror above the mantelpiece, wondered what she would look like if her hair was black instead of honey blond.

  The next morning brought Samantha a brief note from Mrs. Fielding, Zachary's secretary, to say there was a Board meeting on Friday afternoon which she was expected to attend. On an impulse she rang Larry and told him she had decided to take up the question of what discounts should be allowed to Directors and their friends.

  "Good," he said. "I'm glad you are accepting a woman's privilege."

  "What's that?"

  "Changing her mind! I'll back you up, of course. That goes without saying."

  "Let's try not to make it personal," she added. "I don't want your cousin to think I'm getting at him."

  "It will be difficult for him not to think so, since he's the only unmarried Director with a dependent!"

  She laughed at his phraseology. "I'm surprised you don't have a couple of dependents shopping at Farrell's."

  "I don't believe in letting my girl friends get accustomed to the good life!"

  "What happens when you take them out? I can't see you dining at a self-service restaurant!"

  "It's different when I share things with them," he chuckled. "Which reminds me it's nearly a week since we shared an evening. How about having dinner with me?"

  She agreed, more because she wanted to get off the line than because of a desire to spend much time with him. Larry was good company but only—she had discovered to her surprise— when taken in infrequent doses. He was too light-weight intellectually for her to enjoy prolonged conversation with him, and the subject in which he was most interested—car racing—was one that left her completely cold.

  On Friday she spent her lunch hour in Farrell's hairdressing salon. Obeying Madame Vonet's dictum that her saleswomen did not wear their hair loose, she had coiled hers into a bun, but now she asked for it to be restyled and watched as several inches were cut.

  "I don't want it short," she protested.

  "I am only reshaping," the young man assured her, wielding his scissors demoniacally behind her.

  "Hairdressers always say that and then leave you like a shorn lamb."

  "But such a beautiful lamb," he said, snipping away merrily.

  Defeated, Samantha subsided, but seeing the results an hour later was delighted. The new style suited her exceptionally well. The shorter length enabled the back of her hair to curve into the nape of her neck and the sides, left slightly longer, lay softly upon her cheeks, swinging in a silvery cloud with each turn of her head.

  "I look like one of those hair ads on television," she said happily.

  "Better than that." The hairdres
ser was succinct. "Your color is natural! I've never seen such a blonde before. Are you Scandinavian?"

  "Just lucky," she smiled, and gave him a handsome tip before returning to the Dress Department.

  The previous day she had splurged on a new outfit but had deliberately bought it in a rival store, not wishing any of the Directors she met today to see her in something that bore the unmistakable stamp of Farrell's.

  "That's a charming dress, Miss Byers," Madame Vonet commented as Samantha came out of one of the dressing rooms wearing it. "Beige is an excellent color for you."

  "I don't usually go for blondes in beige," Samantha confessed. "It's a bit washed out looking. But I thought this shade worked."

  "Because it has a tinge of gold to it that stops it from being too beige. And your brown accessories compliment it." She eyed the high- heeled shoes and small flat bag. "You are wearing a brown coat too?"

  "I'm not bothering with the coat. The meeting is upstairs."

  Madame Vonet smiled graciously. "I won't expect you back, Miss Byers. I am sure you will be tired."

  "If the meeting finishes in time, I will come back," Samantha said. "It's not that I'm a glutton for punishment, Madame, but I'm eager to learn how this department is run."

  "Perhaps you would care to have lunch with me on Monday?" the buyer volunteered. "I can fill you in on many things."

  Samantha duly accepted the olive branch.

  "That's an excellent idea," she said, pleased that peace had been established. Madame Vonet was good in her job and had to be seen in this context.

  Smiling good-by, Samantha went up to the top floor. All the executive offices were here, which seemed to her a remarkable waste of floor space in an incredibly expensive part of London. Surely the administration could be housed in suburban premises, leaving this floor to be used as a new department or an extension of one which was already too cramped—of which there were many. Was this what Zachary Farrell had in mind when he suggested expanding? She must find out more about his plans and why Larry opposed them.

  Unwilling to enter the Board Room on her own, she went in search of Larry. He was perched on the side of his desk, watching television. He lowered the sound as she came in but the whine that still emanated from it told her he was watching a car race at Silverstone.

  "You look good enough to eat," he commented, eyeing her figure-fitting dress. "I believe the apt description is slim as a wand!"

  "What an original compliment, Larry. I hope you will keep it just for me!"

  "For no one else." He went on surveying her. "You've cut your hair."

  "How perceptive you are."

  "Beautiful young women merit attention and you are more beautiful than most." He sauntered over and placed his hands upon her shoulders. She had to tilt her head slightly to look at him when he was standing so close, and he lowered his own and kissed the top of her nose.

  "See how well-trained I am not to spoil your lipstick."

  "I'm sure your good training comes from practice!"

  Smiling, he opened the door for her. "You haven't changed your mind about bringing up the subject of Marie, have you?" he asked as they walked along the corridor.

  "I am not discussing Miss Bergerac," she said. "I am bringing up the whole question of discounts."

  He gave her a keen glance but she ignored it and walked purposefully toward the Board Room.

  Samantha had not been in it before and was impressed by its size, thinking again what a waste of space it was to have it here. Seated around a large oval table were ten men of various ages, though Zachary was the only one whom she knew, apart from Larry.

  They all rose at her entrance, which made her feel terribly self-conscious and she quickly took her place beside Larry while he affected a brief introduction. She remembered only a few of their names but knew that the company's accountant and lawyer were present, as well as the two financial advisors.

  The meeting quickly got underway. Speeches were kept to a minimum, with Zachary rustling his papers impatiently if anyone digressed too far from the point under discussion. The subjects were diverse and ranged from reapportionment of the monies to be spent on various departments —with increases being given to expanding ones like Do-It-Yourself, Domestic Equipment, and Food; to new pension schemes for the staff; an extra number of security guards at night; and a change in the lettering of the company's name. There was little disagreement about any of these issues. Only when it came to Zachary's announcement that he wished to double the size of the Food Hall at the expense of Flowers and Fruit did Samantha get her first chance to witness him in action.

  "We can't cut down the fruit section," one of the older Directors said. "We are noted for our first strawberries of the season; for the best guavas and pawpaws. It brings us good publicity too."

  "But it isn't bringing us new customers," Zachary Farrell replied. "And while we're on the subject I might add that I'm not only interested in getting new customers but in getting a new type of customer."

  "Why do we need a new type?" the banker asked. "There are still plenty of rich ones to cater for."

  "There are many more in the middle range that I want to encourage. At the moment we are too esoteric in our policy. We are scaring away a large section of the community—the section where money is accumulating."

  "Now you are discussing the whole policy of Farrell's," another director said, "and that's something that will take a meeting in itself. In fact, several meetings," he added. "It isn't something we can do lightly, my boy. You know your uncle…"

  "My uncle is dead," Zachary said bluntly. "When he left Larry and myself his shares he made no proviso as to how we should run the company. Had he done so, I would have asked him not to leave me any shares. He knew that if I took over—if we took over—we would want to run things in our own way."

  "Zachary's right," Larry spoke for the first time, and all eyes turned to him. "I know my uncle didn't approve of some of the things Zachary wanted to do. You know what they are and we needn't go into them now. But one thing he did give both of us, was carte blanche in the way we ran Farrell's once he was no longer here. We are only held back by lack of funds."

  "I am glad you realize that." The banker spoke in the driest of voices.

  "We do indeed," said Larry with a charming smile in the man's direction. "But we don't require any sizable amount of money to expand the Food Hall. All it means is making two other departments smaller."

  "What other two departments?"

  The argument waged back and forth and Samantha remained silent. She knew nothing about this side of the company, either the profit that came from selling food or how its value compared with any of the other departments, size for size. But if Zachary Farrell wanted it, she was sure it was a good proposition.

  The thought surprised her and she analyzed it while the men around her continued to talk, coming to the conclusion that though she did not like him, she intuitively respected his business acumen far more than she did Larry's.

  "I think that's all on the agenda for today," Zachary Farrell was speaking again. "Unless anyone else has anything to say?"

  "I have," said Samantha in a clear but shaky voice.

  All eyes turned on her and her cheeks bloomed. She put up her hand to move away the soft wisp of hair that fell across her forehead and glanced at Larry as if for reassurance. His face remained impassive but beneath the table his foot touched hers.

  "I would like to talk about the discounts that are allowed to the directors. I appreciate that as one of those who hold voting shares I am in the privileged position—together with Mr. Larry and Mr. Zachary Farrell—of obtaining things at cost."

  "Members of the Farrell family always have everything at cost," the banker said firmly. "We all believe they should continue to do so. It is a family firm and we are proud to keep it that way. The rest of us are perfectly happy with the forty percent discount we get."

  Oh Lord, Samantha thought. They think I want to give them more! Color
bloomed more furiously in her cheeks and she was uncomfortably aware of pale gray eyes staring at her from the other end of the table, like twin points of silver light. If only she had not brought up the subject today. It was odds on that Zachary Farrell knew exactly what she was going to say. But it was too late to draw back and she had no recourse but to plunge on.

  "I am not suggesting we change the Directors' discount," she said in a breathless voice. "But I think that the privilege the Farrells receive—mine included—should extend only to us."

  "But it does, my dear," said the banker, paterrnalistically.

  "That's what I wanted to establish."

  Samantha did not meet Zachary's eyes but she had no need to, for they were piercing into her like probes.

  "You have made your point, Miss Byers." He raised his voice slightly to make it heard above the others. "I suggest you discuss it more fully with my cousin and myself."

  Everyone at the table looked relieved and Samantha, not sure if she had won or lost the proposition she had put forward, rose uncertainly as the meeting came to an end.

  Light refreshments were served. Tea, coffee, and delicious Farrell gateaux. Half an hour later everyone departed, leaving only the two cousins and herself.

  "Now, Miss Byers," Zachary Farrell said.

  "Do call her Samantha," Larry put in mildly.

  His cousin ignored him and went on looking at Samantha with a dislike he did not bother to conceal. "Let's get back to the suggestion you raised at the meeting. I assume you are referring to Miss Bergerac?"

  "She was the person I had in mind," Samantha said and looked innocently at Larry, who shook his head and murmured "Not guilty," in an expressionless voice.

  "I don't consider myself guilty either," Zachary said in a voice so deep it was almost a growl. "The immediate family have always had this special concession. It applied to Larry's parents when they were alive and any other member of Uncle John's family."

  "Are you secretly married to Miss Bergerac then?"

  Zachary looked stunned at the question, as indeed he might, Samantha thought, for she was stunned by her temerity in asking it. What gave her the right to harangue him in this way? Larry and Zachary were Farrells. Between them they owned the store. But not quite. She had a small part of it, too. A small but highly important part. Uncle John's veto. That's what she was. His way of making sure neither of his nephews could overrule the other. It was this that gave her the right to question anyone connected with Farrell's; be they the lowliest assistant or its most illustrious director.