At least he was sitting next to Michaela, which wasn’t too bad because he could glance sideways at her every now and then. But not often — that would be making his personal interest obvious. He hoped not to embarrass himself by getting airsick in the small plane. Over several years he had come to hate confined places, really hate them.
Michaela taxied down the tarmac and took off, as she had been doing for years. The flight only took two hours and, by mid-morning, they were in Cooma. Like most country towns, it was quiet on Sundays. Lenny waited while Michaela and Fern alighted from the cab which had brought them from the airport. He gave the cabbie an address.
‘I’ll see you at the local RSL club for lunch, at 1.30 pm,’ Lenny said. He waved goodbye, then told the driver to proceed around the corner, off Sharp Street, Cooma’s main street. Thirty metres up the street he told the cabbie to stop, got out and paid the bill. As the cabbie, scratching his head at the vagaries of city folk, drove away, Lenny looked around; there were a few scattered shops, cottages, a vacant block of land.
Shit, what was he going to do for two and a half hours until it was time for lunch? He didn’t have a genuine appointment with several influential businessmen regarding property development in the town, as he’d told Michaela. That was a front to enable him to spend time with her. He was stuck in this freeze-your-arse-off hick town with nothing to do. Lenny pulled the collar of his leather jacket up and settled his shoulder holster more comfortably into his armpit. Shit, what was he going to do … ?
In days gone by he’d have had the cabbie take him to a brothel or the closest whore to while the hours away but … since he’d met Michaela, well, frankly, he couldn’t get it up for any other woman. Jesus, he had the hots for her bad, really bad.
Further along the street, where the road began to slope upwards and partly hidden by a stand of conifers, he spotted a church spire. People, worshippers, were going into services. There had to be heating in there, he surmised. Christ, he goaded himself derisively as he trekked towards the church, Lenny Kovacs reduced to this: attending a bloody church service to keep off the street! He had to though. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally bump into Fern and Michaela as they wandered about the town. Well, anything was better than standing out here freezing his balls off. Geez, he grumbled as he got closer to the church, the temperature had to be below zero!
‘How did it go?’ Caroline asked Fern and Michaela as they came in the front door just on sunset.
‘Great, Mum. Michaela’s such a good pilot. Flying was real cool. I might learn when I’m old enough. Mr Kovacs is a nice man. He bought us lunch after his business meeting,’ Fern said all in one breath as she dumped her bag on the floor near the stairs.
‘That’s good.’ Caroline sounded pleased. She looked over the top of her daughter’s head at Michaela, a question in her eyes.
‘It went well,’ Michaela confirmed. ‘The plane, Rod O’Malley’s Piper Cub, is almost brand new, a dream to fly. I think Lenny was happy with how things went, though I suspect that he doesn’t really care for small planes.’
‘Can’t say I blame him.’ Caroline’s tone was sympathetic.
They gravitated to the kitchen to check out what to have for dinner. On Sundays they usually had a light meal, one that was easily prepared, and because it was the Porters’ Sunday off the Beaumont family fended for themselves.
‘You know, Mum, one day you should come with us on a flight,’ Fern suggested as she opened the fridge door to find a quick snack.
‘I don’t know …’ Caroline’s tone was hesitant.
‘Well, I can’t go with Michaela all the time, even if she wanted me to. I’d miss out on a whole day with Dad,’ Fern said matter-of-factly. Finding several pieces of cold chicken, she took a leg and began to stuff it inelegantly into her mouth as she turned towards the doorway. ‘I’m off. Got to talk to Liah and Tara, tell them about my weekend.’
Michaela grinned as Fern shot out of the room. ‘I’d forgotten how fast teenagers can move, and how much they talk. I think Lenny was shocked into silence on the return flight. He hasn’t had much to do with kids, I think.’ She looked thoughtfully at her elder sister. ‘Caroline, you’re more than welcome to fly with me and Mr Kovacs, if you want to.’
Pleased by the invitation, Caroline momentarily forgot that it was a small plane. She smiled spontaneously. ‘Maybe I will.’
‘In three weeks I’m flying him to Dubbo. Before that Lenny wants me to meet with him to organise flight schedules for the next six months.’
‘You got on okay with him then?’
‘Yes. He’s …’ Michaela hesitated, then said, ‘nice enough. Polite, and interested. He fussed over Fern, wanted to know about her schoolwork, etc., and asked about my job at Ashworths. We got along quite well.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He doesn’t talk much about himself though. I think he doesn’t have a very interesting life.’
‘Dubbo, you said. I’ve never been there,’ Caroline said thoughtfully. ‘It might be fun, and we can talk about your 18 to 28 project. There’s still some fine-tuning to do and there’s the shares! They’ve dropped another half a percentage point. Mum won’t be happy. My broker has been watching the movements. He reported that those companies, Micronita and The Brothers, continue to buy shares as quickly as they come on to the market.’
‘It’s getting beyond a joke.’ Michaela’s tone echoed concern. ‘We should advise the execs at Ashworths: Daniel, Warren and Neil. They should be told what’s going on ‘cause obviously no-one in the company has picked up what you have.’
‘We will,’ Caroline agreed, ‘first thing tomorrow.’
Michaela looked at the note Daphne had left on the kitchen counter. ‘Daphne says dinner’s in the fridge. Pumpkin soup, cold cuts and salad. And Joel rang,’ she informed Caroline. ‘He won’t be home till late. He’s studying at his friend’s house, Elissa’s place.’
‘Aahhh, Elissa …’ Caroline’s tone was contemplative. She began to organise plates and cutlery while Michaela transferred the bowl of soup to a saucepan to heat up on the stove. ‘I hope we meet the elusive Elissa one day.’
‘Me too,’ Michaela agreed. Both knew that their brother was spending more and more time at the Markovitch home at Bankstown. ‘Still, the good thing is, she seems to have a positive effect on him. Joel’s studying, really studying.’
The phone on the kitchen wall rang. Michaela answered it. ‘For you, Caroline. Someone called Teddy Rivkin. Says you know him.’
Home! No other place in all the places she had seen compared with it, Laura Ashworth-Beaumont decided as she walked through the downstairs rooms of number fifty-two, affectionately touching various pieces of furniture, ornaments, items she and Jack had chosen in years gone by. She had been home less than twenty-four hours, and she still walked with a slightly rolling gait from the weeks at sea. The house was quiet. Michaela and Caroline were at Ashworths, Fern was at school, Joel had gone to Sydney University’s library to work in a study group — his finals were only weeks away — and the Porters were doing the grocery shopping.
It was nice to have the place to herself, an opportunity for a few hours’ quiet reflection. Tomorrow she was meeting the board of directors of Ashworths for lunch and an update on the AGM. Later in the week she could look forward to a game of golf. She had been away from the Royal’s hallowed greens for too long and no doubt her handicap of twelve would have slipped during her absence from the golf course. It would be good to be part of her old foursome again, even if her swing was decidedly rusty.
Laura sat in an armchair near the window so she could see the front garden. The circular bed in the middle of the drive was high with waratahs; they would be ready to bloom towards the end of November. Funny how the flowers always reminded her of Jack. A smile fluttered across her lips, a touch of melancholia to it — probably because they had been in bloom when they’d first seen the house that had become their home.
A good deal had happened in the Beaumont hous
ehold during the time she had been away. Daphne had been her usual font of information, divulging the goings on. Michaela and Leith Danvers were in a relationship, and her younger daughter was piloting some wealthy Eastern Suburbs businessman all over New South Wales every other weekend. She was glad about the romance. When she’d seen Michaela and Leith on Easter Sunday, she had had high hopes that the look in Leith’s eyes would lead in that direction. She liked Leith Danvers and, if anyone could tame or, rather, settle her tempestuous daughter, she believed that he could.
And how Fern had grown! She’d have sworn she’d added several centimetres to her height since she’d last seen her. She was developing into a perky young woman too. Seeing her again made Laura realise how much she’d missed her only grandchild and forged the decision that they must spend some special time together to make up for it. Then there was Caroline. Her firstborn was bravely coping with the potentially debilitating disease she had contracted, as well as a new career. From Daniel she had learned that Caroline was making a good fist of things … she’d known she would. Still, at times, she saw an expression, a certain wistfulness, in her daughter’s eyes that told her how much she missed her former profession.
And Joel. She had worried about him the most while away, concerned about his drinking when he was close to achieving his goal of a medical degree. Daphne had intimated that a young woman named Elissa had had an invigorating effect on him and that he was actually studying. Amazing. She thanked God and Elissa for it.
For several moments she reflected on last night’s phone conversation with Daniel. He’d called to welcome her home and then mentioned that there had been some interesting developments at Ashworths. His refusal to satisfy her curiosity by telling her the details over the phone had her intrigued. He had invited her to a boardroom lunch, intimating that all would be revealed there. Yes, indeed, intriguing was the right word. What, Laura wondered quizzically, had been going on in her absence?
Caroline sat alone in her bedroom. Her thoughts had been in a semi-constant whirl since she had met Teddy Rivkin for coffee at Silks Restaurant, late in the afternoon. Dear Teddy. So many happy memories: student days together in London and Vienna, their separate successes. She as a concert pianist, he as a conductor of international standing. His offer had come out of the blue, in between their mutual reminiscing …
‘Would you be interested in being my understudy conductor for the Australian Philharmonic Orchestra and work in tandem with me on concert projects?’
After several seconds of shocked silence, Caroline asked, ‘Why me?’
‘When you sent me that lovely note about the concert at the Opera House, I realised something. I don’t want your musical talents to be lost to the arts. You may not be able to play professionally any more, Caroline, but you can still give a lot to the world of music. Besides, my offer isn’t entirely altruistic. I have a young family and I’d like to spend more time with them. Having you stand in for me, or sharing the conducting — at least the Australian side of it — would make that possible.’
She absorbed what he’d said with an understanding nod, her mind abuzz. Then she said spontaneously, ‘Teddy, I have to be honest, I never thought … about conducting.’ Someone may have mentioned it to her back in Paris but she hadn’t, at the time, been willing to consider it. ‘It’s different from playing, I know. I’m not sure, after being a pianist, that I could master it.’
The bearded Teddy leant across the table and took her hands in his. ‘I feel so positive that you can, Caroline,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘You know so much about music, the nuances, the tones, the passion of it, the emotional complexities to be conveyed. I don’t say that you’ll pick it up overnight. Like everything, you’d have to study, spend time learning the craft. I’m confident you can do it.’
‘But my hands. The arthritis. Eventually, the specialists said they could become so stiff and malformed that I can’t, couldn’t even hold a baton.’
He grinned mischievously. ‘Not to worry. If it gets to that, we’ll just tape the baton to your hand. The audience will never know the difference.’
She shook her head at his offbeat sense of humour. Teddy Rivkin hadn’t changed at all; he was the same exuberant, dedicated character he’d always been.
‘Just promise you’ll think about it,’ he asked, the lopsided grin still in place.
‘All right, I will.’
And she was … thinking about Teddy’s proposal. But she would like to talk it through with someone, more as a sounding board than for any other reason. Who? Her mother? Michaela? Yes, she would be sympathetic, as would Joel. Nick? That was an interesting thought. She wondered what he would think of the possibility of her switching from musician to conductor. Would he approve? She sighed. Hell, what did it matter whether he did or not? She sighed again, this time more heavily. The trouble was, it did matter. She wanted his approval. Why? It was a bitter pill to swallow, but swallow it she must — because she still cared, and his interest and respect were important to her, even if she couldn’t expect his love.
Angry with herself for her thoughts, Caroline pushed back a tear. She had, foolishly, allowed a situation to develop that should never have arisen. Unbidden, unsought, she had fallen in love with Nick Beaumont again. Maybe, the thought followed on, she had never been completely out of love with him, even when their relationship was at its lowest. She glanced at her reflection in the wall mirror and pulled a face. Pitiful. Here she was, forty-four and pining for the love of a man who had moved on. A mental picture of the beautiful Geraldine Baxter swam before her open eyes. So young, so eager.
Damn! In frustration, she sucked in her lower lip. She hated feeling like this. Out of kilter, vulnerable, desperate. That made her sit up straight. Was she desperate?
She wasn’t sure. Her racing pulses and the warm, soft feeling inside when she thought about Nick were ample evidence of her feelings for him, but she knew with a fatalistic certainty that she couldn’t afford to be desperate. To be that would put her at too much of a disadvantage and, feeling as she did, she was already horribly disadvantaged.
Laura, looking every inch the successful matriarch, was escorted by Daniel Blumner into the boardroom to meet the other directors. On the table sat an array of food platters that would have done justice to an army platoon instead of the eight people assembled, including Michaela. All morning, and coming into the city in the car, Laura had found it hard to contain her curiosity. The tone of Daniel’s voice when he’d spoken on the phone had contained an air of mystery and was, to say the least, unusual. After spending a few minutes on the expected welcome back and enquiries about her health and her holiday, Laura was the one to get things rolling.
‘Yes, it’s good to be back and I had a most enjoyable holiday, but Daniel,’ she looked at the CEO, ‘has left me in a lather of expectation. On the phone he intimated that “things” have been happening. What’s been going on in my absence?’
‘Share prices have slumped,’ Neil, the bearer of gloomy news, announced. ‘And we’ve just learned about some strange buying up of Ashworths shares as investors bail out. Percy Merrick, our stockbroker, is trying to figure out why a company or companies would be buying up considerable blocks of our shares when we’re in a slump. It’s a puzzle.’
‘And a concern,’ Laura agreed, a frown spreading across her forehead.
‘Yes, it is a negative,’ Warren Tremayne put in quickly, ‘but we have another, more stimulating development to tell you about. Michaela came up with the plan and, as its creator, we’ve asked her here to explain the concept to you.’
Laura’s eyebrows rose and she murmured light-heartedly, ‘I thought you were constrained last night at dinner, Michaela. What scheme have you been concocting?’
‘The majority of board members think her idea has a lot going for it,’ Daniel came in with his comment, ‘but we’ll let Michaela draw a picture for you.’
Tall, slender, and as well dressed as her elegant mother, Michaela took the
details of her 18 to 28 proposal out of its folder and began to explain …
Laura listened, her features impassive. No-one in the room could know what she was thinking, which was just as well because her thoughts were oddly mixed, and Laura Ashworth-Beaumont rarely allowed herself to get mixed up. Dismantle Silks Restaurant! Invest hugely in a new scheme, a young person’s section — not designer labels, but quality off-the-rack clothes and accessories! ‘Radical’ was too extreme a word for the concept, ‘innovative’ suited it better. She noticed that Caroline had slipped into the boardroom and sat at the far end of the conference table. Was she here to give Michaela support? She approved of that, very much, for it meant that at least some of the animosity between them had evaporated whilst she’d been away.
It was a bold idea, Laura decided. Michaela had fleshed it out well and, from the tight expression on her nephew’s face, Laura guessed that Neil couldn’t find anything amiss with the costing. She almost smiled. In some ways Michaela was very much like her: she too had a vision for Ashworths and she admired that but the cost, if it didn’t work, could be considerable.
Laura glanced around the room at everyone who was present. Only she and Daniel, and possibly Caroline, though she had been young at the time, understood what Silks Restaurant meant to her. Without Alex Monroe’s inheritance, Ashworths as it existed today would not have come to exist at all. Dismantling Silks and the memories, letting go, was hard, perhaps … impossible. No! In all honesty, first and foremost she was a businesswoman, and her Jack had said she was a good one. Ideas, stretching the limits, going with the dream no matter what the cost, had contributed to the overall success of the Ashworths empire. These same qualities were in Michaela, so how could she deny her the opportunity to show what she could do?
‘Laura,’ Daniel prompted as Michaela wound the pitch down, ‘what do you think? We, the board members, value your opinion on this. Very much.’
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