Kane & Abel (1979) (81 page)
George arrived at the shop to find a magnificent modern boutique with thick carpets and the latest Swedish furniture - it reminded him of the way Abel used to do things. Florentyna was wearing a long green gown with the now famous double F on its high collar. She handed George a glass of champagne and introduced him to Kate and Lucy Kane, who were chatting with Zaphia. Kate and Lucy were clearly very happy, and Virginia surprised George by asking after Mr Rosnovski.
‘I told him he was a stubborn old fool to miss such a good party. Is Mr Kane here?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Kate. ‘I’m afraid he’s another stubborn old fool.’
William was still muttering angrily at
The New York Times
, something about Johnson pulling his punches in Vietnam, when he folded the newspaper and dragged himself out of bed. He dressed slowly, very slowly, before inspecting himself in the mirror. He looked like a banker. He scowled. How else should he look? He walked slowly down the stairs. He put on a heavy black overcoat and his old Homburg hat, picked up his black walking stick with the silver handle - the one Rupert Cork-Smith had left him - and somehow got himself out onto the street. It was the first time he had been out on his own for the best part of three years. The maid was surprised to see Mr Kane leaving the house unaccompanied.
It was an unusually warm spring evening, but William still felt the cold after being stuck in the house for so long. It took him a considerable time to walk to Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Sixth Street, each pace taking a little longer, and when he eventually made it he found the crowd inside Florentyna’s was spilling out onto the sidewalk. He didn’t feel he had the strength to fight his way through, so he stood on the sidewalk and watched. Young people, happy and excited, were thrusting their way into Florentyna Kane’s fashionable boutique. Some of the girls were wearing the new mini skirts from London. What next, thought William. Then he spotted Richard talking to Kate. He’d grown into such a fine-looking man - tall, confident and relaxed; he had an air of authority about him that reminded William of his own father. But in all the bustle and movement inside the shop, he couldn’t work out which one was Florentyna. He stood there for nearly an hour enjoying the comings and goings, regretting the stubborn years he had thrown away.
The March wind was beginning to race down Fifth Avenue. He’d forgotten how cold that wind could be. He turned his collar up. He must get home, because they were all coming to dinner that night, and he was going to meet Florentyna and the grandchildren for the first time, and be reunited with his beloved son. He had told Kate what a fool he’d been, and begged her forgiveness. All she said was, ‘I’ll always love you.’ Florentyna had written to him. Such a kind and generous letter. She had been so understanding about the past, and had ended with ‘I can’t wait to meet you’.
He must get home. Kate would be cross with him if she discovered he’d been out on his own in that cold wind. They could tell him all about the opening over dinner. He wouldn’t let them know he’d been there - that would always be his secret.
As he turned to go home, he saw an old man standing a few yards away in a black overcoat, with his hat pulled down over his head and a scarf around his neck. Not a night for old men, thought William as he walked towards him. And then he saw the silver band on his wrist. In a flash it all came back to him, fitting into place for the first time. Tea at the Plaza, later at his office in Boston, then again on a battlefield in Germany, and now on Fifth Avenue. The man must have been standing there for some time, because his face was red and raw from the wind. He stared at William out of those unmistakable blue eyes. They were now only a few feet apart. As William passed him, he raised his hat to the old man. He returned the compliment, and they continued on their separate ways without a word.
I must get home before they do, thought William. The joy of seeing Richard and his grandchildren would make everything worthwhile. He must get to know Florentyna, ask for her forgiveness, and trust that she would understand something he could scarcely comprehend himself. Such a fine young woman, everybody told him.
When he reached East Sixty-Eighth Street, he fumbled for his key and opened the front door. ‘Turn on all lights,’ he told the maid, ‘and build the fire up to make them feel welcome.’ He felt very contented and very, very tired. ‘Draw the curtains and light the candles on the dining-room table. There’s so much to celebrate.’
He couldn’t wait for them all to return. He sat down in the old maroon leather chair by the log fire and thought happily about the evening that lay ahead. Grandchildren surrounding him, the years he had missed. When had his little grandson learned to count? At last William felt he had a chance to bury the past and earn forgiveness in the future. The room was so nice and warm after that cold wind …
A few minutes later there was an excited bustle downstairs, and the maid came in to tell Mr Kane that his son had just arrived. He was in the hall with Mrs Kane and his wife and two of the loveliest children the maid had ever seen. Then she ran off to be sure that dinner would be ready on time. He would want everything to be perfect that night.
Richard entered the room, with Florentyna by his side. She looked quite radiant.
‘Father,’ he said. ‘I would like you to meet my wife.’
William Lowell Kane would have stood to greet her, but he couldn’t. He was dead.
A
BEL PLACED
the envelope on the table by his bed. He hadn’t dressed yet. Nowadays he rarely rose before noon. He tried to put the breakfast tray on the floor, but the movement demanded too much dexterity for his stiff old body to accomplish. He inevitably ended by dropping the tray with a bang. It was no different today. He no longer cared. He picked up the envelope once more, and read the covering note for a second time.
‘We were instructed by the late Mr Curtis Fenton, sometime manager of the Continental Trust Bank, LaSalle Street, Chicago, to send you the enclosed letter when certain circumstances had come about. Please acknowledge receipt of this letter by signing the enclosed copy and returning it to us in the stamped addressed envelope supplied herewith.’
‘Goddamn lawyers,’ said Abel, and tore open the envelope.
Dear Mr Rosnovski,
This letter has been in the keeping of my lawyers until today for reasons that will become apparent to you as you read it.
When in 1951 you closed your accounts at the Continental Trust after over twenty years with the bank, I was naturally very distressed and concerned. My concern was caused not by losing one of the bank’s most valued customers, sad though that was, but because you felt I had acted in a dishonourable way. What you were not aware of at the time was that I had specific instructions from your backer not to reveal certain facts to you.
When you first visited me at the bank in 1929, you asked for financial help to clear the debt incurred by Mr Davis Leroy, in order that you might take possession of the hotels which then formed the Richmond Group. I took a personal interest in your case, as I believed that you had an exceptional flair for your chosen career. It has given me a great deal of satisfaction to observe in old age that my confidence was not misplaced. But in truth I was unable to find a backer, despite approaching several leading financiers. I might add that I also felt some responsibility for your predicament, having advised you to buy 25% of the Richmond Group from my client, Miss Amy Leroy, when I was unaware of the financial difficulties Mr Leroy was facing at that time. I digress.
I had given up all hope of finding a backer for you when you came to visit me on that Monday morning. I wonder if you remember that day as well as I do? Only thirty minutes before your appointment I had a call from a financier who was willing to put up the necessary money. Like me, he had great confidence in your ability. His only stipulation, as I advised you at the time, was that he insisted on remaining anonymous because of a potential conflict between his professional and private interests. The terms he offered, allowing you to gain eventual control of the Richmond Group, were in my opinion extremely generous, and you rightly took full advantage of them. Indeed, your backer was delighted when you were able, through your own diligence and hard work, to repay his original investment with interest.
I lost contact with you both after 1951, but soon after I retired from the bank I read a distressing story in the newspapers concerning your backer, which prompted me to write this letter, in case I died before either of you.
I write not to prove my good intentions in this affair, but so that you should not continue to live under the illusion that your benefactor was Mr David Maxton of the Stevens Hotel. Mr Maxton was a great admirer of yours, but he never approached the bank in that capacity. The gentleman who believed in you, and the future of the Baron Group, was William Lowell Kane, the former Chairman of Lester’s Bank, New York.
I begged Mr Kane to inform you of his personal involvement, but he refused to break the clause in his trust deed that stipulated that no beneficiary should be privy to the investments of his family trust, because of the conflict it might cause at the bank. After you had paid off the loan and he learned of Henry Osborne’s association with the Baron Group he became even more adamant that you should not be informed.
I have left instructions that this letter is to be destroyed if you should die before Mr Kane. In those circumstances, he will receive a similar letter, explaining your total lack of knowledge of his personal generosity.
Whichever one of you receives a letter from me, it was a privilege to have served you both.
I remain, your faithful servant,
Curtis Fenton
Abel picked up the phone by the side of his bed. ‘Find George for me,’ he said. ‘I need to get dressed.’
G
RANDMOTHER
K
ANE
would have approved of the turnout at William Lowell Kane’s funeral. Three senators, five congressmen, two bishops, most of the leading banks’ chairmen and the publisher of
The Wall Street Journal
were all in attendance. Jake Thomas and every director of the Lester board were also present, their heads bowed in prayer to a God William had never believed in. Richard and Florentyna stood on one side of Kate, Virginia and Lucy on the other.
Few of the mourners noticed two old men standing at the back of the cathedral, their heads also bowed, looking as if they were not attached to the main party. They had arrived a few minutes late, and left quickly at the end of the service. Florentyna recognized the limp as the shorter man hurried away, and told Richard. But they didn’t say anything to Kate.
Kate wrote and thanked the two men the following day. She hadn’t needed to be told.
A few days later, the taller of the two men went to see Florentyna in her shop on Fifth Avenue. He had heard she was returning to San Francisco, and he needed to see her before she left. She listened carefully to what he had to say, and agreed to his request with joy.
Richard and Florentyna Kane arrived at the Baron hotel the next afternoon. George Novak was waiting in the lobby to escort them to the 42nd floor.
After ten years, Florentyna hardly recognized her father. He was sitting up in bed, half-moon spectacles propped on the end of his nose, still no pillows, but smiling defiantly. They talked of happier days, and both of them laughed a little and cried a lot.
‘You must forgive us, Richard,’ said Abel. ‘We Polish are a sentimental race.’
‘I know. My children are half Polish,’ said Richard.
Later that evening they dined together - magnificent roast veal, appropriate for the return of the prodigal daughter, said Abel.
He talked of the present, avoided the past and told her how he saw the future of the group.
‘We ought to have one of your shops in every hotel,’ he told Florentyna.
She laughed and agreed.
He told Richard of his sadness about the long-running feud with his father, and that it had never crossed his mind even for a moment that William Kane could have been his benefactor, and how he would have liked one chance, just one, to thank him personally.
