Many years before, Emma had set out to accumulate money and power, large amounts of it, and very quickly. And she had succeeded, reaching heights she herself had not dreamed of achieving. She had done it through sheer willpower, discipline, self-sacrifice, and stamina. She had been seventeen years old when she embarked upon this extraordinary journey to the top; her great-granddaughter Linnet was almost ten years older, and her aim was not to acquire money or power. What she was aiming to do was bring the great emporium Emma had founded into the twenty-first century. And faster and better than any of the rival stores could do, rivals who sought the same customers and had the same goals.
Linnet, more than any other member of the family, was blessed with those characteristics which had been Emma’s stock-in-trade: that unique drive, penchant for hard work, and, most important, the sheer will to push herself beyond endurance. There was also the talent and intelligence which underscored those traits, and which Emma had bequeathed to her.
Aside from these characteristics, Linnet had been gifted with Emma’s understanding of retailing and her enormous vision. Linnet’s mother, Paula, had succeeded very well over the years, never deviating very much from Emma’s rules. She had been trained by the founder and revered her, and she steered the ship well.
But Paula had never had the vision which had set Emma Harte way above her competitors. Neither did Tessa, India, or Evan, Emma’s great-granddaughters. It was Linnet who had inherited this very special gift.
The vision made her aware of what could go wrong as well as what could go right. Many a day, especially lately, she had muttered to herself, “I know exactly what will go right. What I need to calculate is all those things which could easily go wrong.”
It was almost as if Linnet had a demon telling her things. She could sit in her office, staring into space, and see into the future, envision all those things that could bring her and Harte’s tumbling down. Or fulfill her dreams to give the store a dazzling future.
Although she had free rein at the moment to run the company, Paula having made her creative director and manager, Linnet knew very well she had a board to answer to should there ever be a problem. Harte’s was a public company, trading its shares on the London Stock Exchange, and even though her mother and the family owned the majority of the shares, she knew that she had to watch her p’s and q’s. Her father had warned her of that several days after the funeral, when he had come in to see her at the store in Knightsbridge. And so had Emily, who with Paula, Winston, and the ever-absent Amanda Linde, ran all of the Harte companies and were on the board of the stores.
And so she was watching her step, as her grandfather had instructed her to do, and at the same time going at it hammer and tongs, working around the clock, pushing forward. The Tranquillity Day Spa was finished; the bridal floor was totally revamped and decorated and was only waiting for basic merchandise; she had started to design an area for luxury goods, even though her mother had not told her she could do this. Nevertheless, Linnet knew it was essential.
In order to cover as much ground as possible in a very short time, Linnet had hired two new assistants and two new secretaries. Jonelle was holding the fort in the executive suite, and Linnet was finding her invaluable.
Although her schedule was brutal, she was managing to hold to it, mostly by sacrificing all of her social life. And also thanks to her husband. Julian Kallinski had similar responsibilities and would one day inherit the vast international conglomerate Kallinski Industries from his father, Michael, who had inherited it from his father, Sir Ronald Kallinski, who had inherited it from his father, David Kallinski, the founder of their clan. And so, better than any other man, Julian knew what she was doing and why she was doing it, and he applauded her for it.
Basically, Linnet wanted to bring something wonderful but just a bit old world into the future, thereby saving its life. Today, more than ever, Harte’s had competition in London, not only the big department stores but boutiques, ateliers, and small shops, all of them vying for the fashion-conscious young woman, and the older, more sophisticated woman as well. Julian cheered her on, and never doubted for one moment that she would win.
And so together they formulated a plan. Every morning, Linnet leapt out of bed at four-thirty, and so did Julian. She went to the shower first; he put on the coffeepot. Within minutes he was in the shower, she was doing her makeup; he went to shave as she made the toast. Minutes later, in their robes, they sat together in the kitchen enjoying a light breakfast; then they dressed for the day and left the apartment.
Their driver dropped Linnet at the store first, then took Julian on to Kallinski House. She was behind her desk at five forty-five, he was at his office at six.
Every night, at seven o’clock, Julian picked her up at the store, and either the driver took them home for a cozy supper in front of the fire or they dropped in at a favorite restaurant for dinner.
Because Linnet needed to work Saturdays, Julian did the same. By the end of the first month, it had become a well-oiled routine; they were enjoying it because they were both, in their different ways, seeing their intense work come to fruition.
Now, on this lovely morning in May, Linnet went out onto the Fashion Floors, holding her breath and crossing her fingers. Today was the day.
The Tranquillity Day Spa would be opening its doors for the first time, and the floor now named Brides would be proudly showing off its fabulous gowns and every type of other bridal merchandise. Even the luxury goods area was finished and would open today.
Just as exciting, as far as Linnet was concerned, was her total revamping of the Fashion Floors. She had rushed to Paris for three days just after Robin’s funeral, had gone on a marathon buying spree, selecting clothes from all of the prêt-à-porter lines produced by the top fashion houses. She had also bought merchandise at Valentino, Ungaro, Chanel, and some of the lesser houses, determined to bring her Fashion Floors up to par.
The handbag and shoe departments had been given the same revamp, and her new assistant Phyllis Peters had filled both boutiques with the most delectable, glamorous, and sexy merchandise she had ever seen.
Looking at her watch, Linnet realized that it was only eight; there was no one around at this hour. But as she tried the handle on the door of the spa, it opened, and she came face-to-face with Sophie Forrester, the spa’s manager.
“Good morning, Linnet,” Sophie said, opening the door wider. “Do you want to come in and look around again?”
“I’d love to, Sophie.”
Together the manager and Linnet toured the spa, and once more Linnet was struck by the absolute tranquillity of the space. The lighting was subdued, perfumed votive candles flickered everywhere, and there was the sound of tinkling water falling over stones. The overall decor had an Oriental flavor, with beautiful but spare floral arrangements, Japanese in style, while the treatment cubicles, small rooms actually, had the feeling of pagodas. Restfulness and peace were underscored by the gentle music playing in the background.
“I wouldn’t mind lying down and having a treatment myself,” Linnet said, smiling at Sophie. “And what an apt name Tranquillity is … perfect.” As she left the spa, Linnet added, “Thanks for the tour, and lots of luck today.”
“Thanks, Linnet,” Sophie responded.
Walking across the floor, Linnet now stopped and surveyed the luxury goods corner, positioned diagonally opposite the spa for obvious reasons. She had named it Luxury Boutique, and it featured beautiful evening bags, pashminas, antique silk shawls, rare bead necklaces and earrings, exotic sandals, cashmere jackets and bathrobes, hand embroidered, and all manner of exclusive items. Fingers crossed, she muttered under her breath as she headed for the escalators.
There were no two ways about it, Brides was one of the best-designed boutiques in the store. Thanks to Bobbi Snyder, Linnet thought now as she walked through, gazing at the exquisite wedding gowns displayed on mannequins. Even her own wedding dress was on show in the boutique within Brides, which Linnet had named, ver
y simply, Evan Harte Couture. Her own dress was there because the seamstresses had been able to finish only five gowns in the time allotted to them, and Bobbi wanted a sixth dress to make a real showing. All of the Evan Harte gowns were couture and made to measure; Evan had promised to keep on designing, even though she had now extended her maternity leave to six months.
There were beautiful veils; tiaras made of pearl or diamanté; wreaths of flowers; bridesmaid dresses; flower girl dresses; velvet and satin suits for the little page boys. Shoes and sandals, lingerie, and other decorative items were beautifully set out, and Linnet was filled with positive thoughts as she left.
There was a lovely feeling of spring on the Fashion Floors, which had always been under her aegis, and she was as thrilled now with the way the clothes were mounted and displayed as she had been yesterday. The dresses and suits were in pretty pastel colors, made of silks, chiffons, and light wools. And the banks of potted azaleas and hydrangeas furthered the sense of spring and summer everywhere.
Returning to the executive suite some twenty minutes later, Linnet felt a rush of gratitude toward the people she had hired, who had made such an effort to meet her deadline for the revamping of the various areas in Harte’s.
Her mobile phone rang a few minutes later, and it was India. “I wanted to wish you lots of luck, Linny,” she said. “I know the store must look beautiful.”
“It does. It looks fabulous. There’s a real springlike feeling, with all the pastel-colored clothes and the flowers, both real and artificial. The store designers have done a wonderful job on all the floors, India. Oh, and the spa is … tranquil!”
“I can’t wait to see it. I’ll be coming up later in the week. I have my last fitting for my wedding gown.”
“Shall we have lunch or dinner?”
“Both if you can.” India laughed. “I really miss you. And the store as well.”
“I miss you, too, and Evan.”
“Do we have any special news from Tessa?”
“Only that Jean-Claude is making very good progress. He has really bad wounds in one leg; he was shot up. But she sounded cheerful, so Mummy said.”
“I spoke to Paula yesterday, and I was a bit disappointed when she said she might not be feeling well enough to come to my wedding.”
“I knew you would be. Daddy mentioned it to me … he just thinks everything that requires real effort still exhausts her. Let’s wait and see how she feels closer to the date, but you can count on me being there, with bells on.”
“You’d better be, and Evan and Tessa. You’re my three matrons of honor. How’s Evan doing, by the way?”
“She’s good, very happy, and the babies are adorable. They have auburn fluff for hair, as Gideon calls it, and green eyes. Right proper Hartes, Uncle Winston tells everyone.” Linnet hesitated and then confided, “Evan’s taking a longer maternity leave, India, six months altogether. I felt a bit down in the dumps about that, but it’s her choice.”
“God, I can imagine! I wish I could be there in Knightsbridge more often, but I’ve a lot to do up here, especially without Tessa.” Now it was India’s turn to hesitate for a moment, and then she asked, “What’s Tessa going to do finally, do we know yet?”
“Not really, but she spends most of her time in Paris, and I doubt that’s going to change.”
“I agree, but listen, talking of Paris, have you heard anything more about Angharad?” India probed, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Mummy gets bits of information from Sarah. She’s definitely engaged to Jonathan, well, according to Sarah. Marietta had tea with Angharad a few weeks ago, and all she did was boast about her acquisitions, according to Marietta.”
“Ill-gotten gains, you mean,” India shot back acidly.
Linnet laughed. “Only too true. But listen, she’s seemingly keeping him occupied. What’s that old saying? The devil finds work for idle hands. Perhaps he’ll continue to lay off us since he’s preoccupied with his fiancée.”
“I hope so. My. father told me that Jack’s been over to Ireland, to check the security at Clonloughlin. I’m glad of that, and glad he’s coming to the wedding as a guest. He’s sort of … like my favorite uncle.”
“Mine, too, India. I’d better go, I want to do another walk around the store.”
It had not worked.
By the end of the week, Linnet was aware that business had been flat in all departments, and there were few bookings at the day spa.
The sales figures for Fashion were low; only two gowns had been ordered from Brides; not one item from the Luxury Boutique had been bought.
Now, on this Saturday morning, Linnet was at her wit’s end and filled with gloom. Obviously she had blundered. The great emporium’s new look, the latest merchandise, the extraordinary Tranquillity Day Spa—none of these innovations had made a dent, had brought in any new customers, or old ones for that matter. As far as she knew.
The Food Halls had been busy, but then they always were. She cringed when she thought of the way she had fought her mother about creating snack bars there and instantly pushed the memory of their quarrel to one side. And there was something truly weird. Mattresses, relegated to the basement, had had record sales this past week. She wondered why.
As she sat at the desk, her head in her hands, Linnet began to weep. Failure. That was what she was facing, something she had never really considered possible. And she had a board to answer to, as well as her mother. The mere prospect made her shiver, and she sat there for a long time, unable to think, let alone move.
The problem was she had no one to talk to, no one to turn to for advice. India had canceled her trip to London, but even if she had been here, what could her cousin have said? Linnet knew she was supposed to be the smart one in the family when it came to retailing. But as far as she was concerned, at the moment she was a total failure.
“Too much chutzpah,” she thought, that’s what Julian would say. And she could hear her mother saying, “Pride comes before a fall.” The tears suddenly spurted again, and she put her head down on the desk and wept as if her heart would break.
“Crying’s not going to get you anywhere,” the voice said, echoing around the large office.
Linnet sat up with a jolt, looked from side to side. Of course there was no one there. It was seven o’clock on Saturday morning, and there was hardly anyone in the store yet. Sitting back in the chair, Linnet wiped the tears from her face with her fingers and found a tissue in her pocket. After blowing her nose, she got up and went to the adjoining bathroom, stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was streaked with mascara, and she had chewed most of her lipstick off. After splashing her face with cold water and patting it dry, she went back to the desk, took out a compact, and patted her cheeks with powder, freshened her lipstick.
Walking across to the door, she went out and hurried to the long corridor, came to a standstill in front of the portrait of Emma. “It was you, wasn’t it, Grandy?” Linnet said, staring at that famous face. “You were talking to me, weren’t you?”
Obviously there was no answer; a portrait couldn’t speak, couldn’t give you advice, however much you wanted it to do so. But Linnet went on talking to the painting. “How did you do it alone?” she asked, staring into those green eyes so like her own. “How did you cope? Who guided you? Who did you turn to when things were tough?”
Linnet knew the answers to her questions, she immediately understood that. Emma Harte had not had anyone to help her or guide her. She had done it all by herself.
Solo.
And she was solo now. Leaning closer to the portrait, Linnet whispered, “You’re right, crying won’t get me anywhere. I’m not going to cry anymore. I’m going to solve the problem. Just as you solved your problems, Emma.”
As she always did, Linnet smiled at Emma’s portrait, touched her great-grandmother’s face, and then hurried back to her mother’s office, which she had used off and on these last few months.
Linnet was aware that every
one would think her fanciful if they knew she believed Emma Harte spoke to her, and that was why Julian had always warned her not to tell anyone. Certainly they would think she was crazy if they knew she was actually talking to the portrait.
Fanciful or crazy, what did it matter? Linnet felt better when she sat down behind the desk, picked up a pen, and began to make notes. She had attended to all the right things, she was sure of that. She had done plenty of clever advertising in the newspapers, so customers knew about the day spa and fashion innovations; she had hired new window dressers and designers, and had even brought Perry Jones over from the New York store to lend a creative hand. Advertising and windows had been taken care of. So what had she missed? What had escaped her? Bad weather? It had rained during the week …
Impatient, Linnet thought, the word popping into her head. I haven’t given it enough time … . Yes, perhaps that’s it … . She remained at the desk making notes until eleven o’clock; then she went down to the ground floor and outside to look at the windows.
Staring at them as objectively as possible, Linnet began to realize they were too busy. It was true she had asked the designers to create a spring-summer feeling, but wasn’t there just too much decor and not enough fashion here?
As she went around to the side street, to look at the window containing new handbags, she heard two women talking. One of them said, “You can’t see the wood for the trees here. But there’s the Cholly Chello bag, the one I told you about. Do you see it, that red one? It’s the only bag in the world that every woman wants. I wish I could afford it.”
The woman was right, there were too many bags in the window, Linnet recognized this at once. But what struck her most was that phrase about the Cholly Chello being the only bag in the world, and she dashed back to her office, her mind working overtime.
The side window of Harte’s was now stark; it had a plain cream backdrop. On a simple wooden packing crate stood the red Cholly Chello handbag, and, to one side of the crate, a large yellow board hung down from the ceiling. Written in bold black letters were the words THE ONLY BAG IN THE WORLD THAT EVERY WOMAN WANTS.
Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga) Page 38