To Be the Best (44 page)

‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Shane said, looming over her, making her jump. He handed her the crystal glass brimming with icy, sparkling champagne.

‘Oh darling, thank you,’ she said, taking the glass from him. ‘I was just thinking how lovely this room is, and it’s truly filled with the past, isn’t it?’

‘All the days of our lives actually,’ he said, touching his champagne flute to hers. ‘Since we were very little.’

They smiled into each other’s eyes, loving each other, and then Shane moved across to the other sofa, where he sat down, settled into the plump chintz cushions, relaxing.

Paula leaned forward, focused her violet eyes on him. ‘Talking of the past – I’ve been thinking of the
future
in the last few days, Shane, and I’m definitely going to go ahead and buy the Larson chain in the States.’

Shane looked at her sharply. The expression in his black Irish eyes changed slightly, became anxious, but he said in the same even, well-controlled voice, ‘If that’s what you want, then I’m glad you’ve made the decision to go ahead, darling.’ Privately he believed she may well be taking on too much responsibility, but he never interfered in her business, remained neutral and uninvolved. It was one of the reasons their marriage was so solid.

She said slowly, ‘Six hundred and fifty million dollars is a fair price for the chain, I think.’ She raised a shapely brow. ‘No?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I agree with you. It is.’

‘Well, anyway…I’ve decided to buy it myself, with my own money,’ she added, giving him a direct look.

For a fraction of a second he was quite floored and gaped at her in astonishment, but once again his tone was even, steady, as he said, ‘Have you now. And what are you going to sell to raise the necessary cash to pay for it?’

‘I’ll borrow from the banks, take out a mortgage on the Larson real estate, pledge some of the chain’s other assets. I’ll probably be able to borrow about three hundred million dollars or so. And to raise the other half of the money I need I intend to sell ten per cent of my Harte shares.’

‘Paula!’ he cried, askance. ‘Do you really think you should?’ Holding her gaze with his eyes, he asked swiftly, ‘Isn’t that rather foolish – and
risky?
Far be it from me to interfere in your business, darling, but those Harte shares are a great weapon – and your security – in as much as they give you absolute power in the company. If you sell ten per cent of your fifty-one per cent you’re reducing your holdings in the company. You’re leaving yourself wide open to challenge.’

‘Don’t be silly, Shane. Whoever’s going to challenge me!’ she laughed. ‘I have the full support of my board and my shareholders. They’re behind me. Good Lord, the store is
mine.
Nobody would ever dream of going against me, neither the board members nor stockholders. I
am
Harte’s, just as Emma was.’

‘Well…I don’t know…’ Shane began and stopped. He had finally broken the rule he had made the day he had married her. He had promised himself he would never give her any business advice, and he never had. She was far too much like Emma Harte to take it anyway. Paula was stubborn and independent. And usually infallible in her
judgements, like her grandmother had been before her. He took a deep breath, resisted arguing against this planned move on her part.

‘I can see from your face that you’ve made up your mind to do things your way,’ he said carefully. ‘You’re confident, determined, and your attitude is admirable, the only one you
should
have when you embark on a venture like this.’ Shane smiled at her, and he meant every word when he added, ‘I’m behind you all the way, Paula.’

‘Oh Shane darling, thank you…thank you for believing in me. That means such a lot. I was only saying so to Michael the other day.’

‘Were you?’

She nodded. ‘I told him I hoped you’d approve of what I’m doing. By the way, he’ll be in New York next week when I’m there.’

‘That’s a coincidence…or is it?’ He gazed at her intently, his dark eyes narrowing.

‘No, darling, it’s not. Michael does have to be in New York some time this month, but he has made his plans to dovetail with mine. He thinks he should be there to give me any help I might need with the Larson takeover.’

Stiffening, Shane held himself rigid on the sofa, and for a moment he did not respond. Then he cleared his throat. ‘You’ve never needed help with deals in the past. Not from anyone. Why
now
all of a sudden?’

She shrugged, laughed. ‘I don’t need any help, but Michael introduced me to Harvey Rawson, found me the Larson chain, as you know.
He
thinks he ought to be there, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him not to come over specially for me.’

‘I see.’

Shane sprang to his feet, strode over to the console, not wanting her to see his sudden anger. He poured himself another glass of Dom Perignon, pushed back the jealousy he
was feeling, endeavoured to arrange a suitably unconcerned expression on his face. Michael was irritating him of late. He had an instinctive, gut feeling that the other man was interested in his wife in a more personal way than she realized. He trusted Paula implicitly, knew that she loved him with all her heart, and would always be true. But he was no longer certain that he trusted Michael Kallinski. Certainly he did not want Paula to be placed in an awkward or embarrassing situation when she was in New York, and that might possibly happen. Or was he being unfair to Michael? After all, his old friend was a gentleman, wasn’t he?

Shane made a snap decision, and pivoted to face his wife, flashed her a brilliant smile. ‘I was keeping this as a little surprise, but I might as well tell you. I’m going to be in New York too next week, Paula darling,’ he improvised. ‘Miranda needs me to go over there. I know we try not to be away at the same time, for the sake of the children, but this trip is unavoidable. I do have some pressing problems to deal with.’

‘But how marvellous!’ Paula cried, her face filling with happiness. ‘And Patrick and Linnet will be perfectly all right with Nanny and Mark…’ Paula stopped, chuckled quietly. ‘It just so happens that Amanda is going to be in the States as well, on a buying trip for Genret. I plan to give a few dinner parties for her…and Michael. You see, Shane, Amanda’s quite potty about him, and Uncle Ronnie and I think they would make a perfect couple.’

‘I’m not so sure that Michael is interested in matrimony at the moment,’ Shane remarked as he strolled back to the sofa and sat down. ‘Not after that débâcle with Valentine. Still, I’m rather inclined to agree with you and Uncle Ronnie about Amanda being ideal for him.’ Shane leaned back on the sofa, feeling a curious sense of relief. He added, as an after-thought, ‘I think we’d better fly separately though, as we usually do.’

‘Yes, of course, that is wisest. Anyway, Shane – ‘ Paula
stopped mid-sentence as the door opened and her daughter, Tessa, came into the room.

‘Goodnight, Mummy, Daddy.’ She hovered in the doorway, blew them kisses. ‘I’m off to Melanie’s party now. Her brother’s just arrived to drive me over there.’

‘You’re not going looking like that!’ Paula exclaimed, and stood up.

Tessa frowned. ‘What do you mean, Mummy?’

‘You know very well what I mean.’ Paula beckoned with one finger. ‘Come over here, Tessa, I want to look at you.’

‘It’s only a bit of blush-on,’ Tessa muttered, throwing her mother a hostile look, not budging from the door. ‘Everybody wears it these days.’

‘I’d hardly say that. Please come over to the fire, Tessa.’

Reluctantly the girl did as her mother asked. Paula took hold of her shoulders and gently turned her into the light emanating from the lamps on the tables on either side of the fireplace. She shook her head, grimaced. ‘Just a little blush-on, you said. But you’re wearing mascara and lipstick as well.’

‘It’s a very
pale
pink lipstick,’ Tessa protested.

‘You’re only
thirteen!
’ Paula shook her head in dismay. ‘I can’t allow you to wear cosmetics. Now run up to your room and wash your face, please.’

‘No! I won’t! I’m not going to take it off! You’re just old-fashioned! That’s what’s wrong with you!’ Tessa cried angrily, and she glared at Paula, then tossed her head.

‘Steady on, Tessa!’ Shane warned, sitting up straighter on the sofa, throwing the girl a cautionary glance. ‘Don’t speak to your mother in that way. You’re being extremely rude. I will not have it.’

‘She
is
old-fashioned, Daddy. Out of date. All the girls in my class wear makeup after school.’

‘I sincerely doubt that.’ Paula took a step backward, regarded her daughter through freshly objective eyes. My
God, she thought, Tessa could easily pass for seventeen. She’s grown up all of a sudden. Whatever’s happened to the years? It seems like only yesterday that she was a baby in her pram.

Adopting a conciliatory manner, softening her voice, Paula now murmured, ‘Please do as I say, darling.’

Tessa compressed her lips in a stubborn line and her silver-grey eyes became defiant. ‘I won’t go to the party if you make me take my makeup off. I’ll look childish, ridiculous. The other girls will be made up, and they’ll laugh at me.’

Mother and daughter stared at each other.

Paula shook her head slowly. ‘No, they won’t.’

‘Mother, please…you’re being stupid!’ Tessa wailed.

‘No, I’m not. And as long as you live in this house and are supported by us, you will live by our rules,’ Paula said quietly, but with great firmness.

Tessa looked down at her feet, thinking hard. She admitted to herself that her mother had the upper hand; nevertheless, she was quite determined to get her own way. She took another approach when she said, ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll – ‘

‘No
negotiating,’
Paula shot back.

‘But the ability to negotiate is often the secret of business success,’ Tessa pointed out, quoting Paula to Paula.

Her mother swallowed a smile and glanced away to hide the merriment unexpectedly brimming in her eyes. Shane was less successful at concealing his amusement, and he burst out laughing.

Paula looked over at him and shook her head, then she turned to Tessa. ‘All right, you can wear the blush-on. But that’s all. And for this concession on my part you must promise to spend an extra hour practising the piano. You’ve been neglecting it lately.’

‘Okay, I promise. But please let me keep the mascara on. My eyelashes are so pale. I look awful. Bleached out. I’ll
double my piano practice, and…and…I’ll take Linnet off your hands on Nanny’s day off.’

‘That’s tomorrow, you know,’ Paula pointed out, and relenting, she added, ‘All right, it’s a deal. But no lipstick.
Understood?’

‘Yes. Thanks, Mums.’ Laughter touched Tessa’s face and she danced lightly across the room, pirouetting until she reached the door.

‘And don’t be late,’ Paula instructed.

‘I won’t. ‘Bye.’

The door slammed behind her with such a crash Paula grimaced, then winced as the Rose Medallion china trembled in the Chippendale cabinet. She murmured, ‘Tess looks older than thirteen, doesn’t she, Shane?’

‘Yes, she’s suddenly becoming quite the young lady. She’s growing up a little too fast for my liking. I think it’s time we considered taking her out of Harrogate College, Paula, sending her to Heathfield, as we’ve always intended.’

‘I’ll get in touch with the headmistress next week. I agree that the sooner Tess goes there the better.’

‘I told you years ago that she was a maverick, Paula. She and Lorne are very different, even though they’re twins. She’s going to need a strong hand in the next few years.’

Paula nodded, recognizing the truth in everything Shane said. She fell into her thoughts. Her daughter was headstrong, wilful, reckless, and even defiant at times. She was a loving girl, warm, outgoing, and she was bright, clever at school. Yet she could be temperamental, and to Paula this was a negative. Her daughter was very much a Fairley, had inherited many of their characteristics, not the least of which were the personal vanity, preoccupation with clothes and with self that had always been Fairley flaws. There’s not a great deal of Harte in her, Paula thought with a little stab of dismay. She even looks like her great-great-grandmother Adele Fairley, with her pale blonde hair and those silvery,
enigmatic eyes. Paula shivered unexpectedly, and gazed into the fire.

‘You’ve got the oddest look on your face, Paula,’ Shane said. ‘Is something wrong, darling?’

‘No, no, of course not,’ she exclaimed, rousing herself from her ruminations. ‘Can I have another glass of champagne, please?’

‘I
was
right, wasn’t I?’ Emily said, glancing from Paula to Winston. ‘Now come on, the two of you, have the good grace to admit it.’

‘You were right about
everything,’
Paula acknowledged. ‘And I’m sorry I pooh-poohed your theories all those years ago.’ She lifted her wine glass, took a swallow of the claret. ‘Is that good enough for you, Dumpling?’

Emily grinned.

Winston said, ‘I apologize for ever thinking you were slightly bonkers when you kept on insisting that Min had not committed suicide.’

‘Apologies accepted.’ Emily smiled at her husband and then at her cousin, picked up her knife and fork, cut into the slice of spring lamb on her dinner plate, and ate a mouthful.

Shane, sipping his wine thoughtfully, said, ‘You always suspected it was murder, didn’t you, Emily?’ ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ Shane probed curiously.

‘It was the missing five hours that troubled me, Shane.’ Emily put down her cutlery, sat back in the chair. ‘I simply couldn’t understand where Min had been from about six o’clock, when Anthony first saw her at the lake, until the time she died around eleven. Her car had remained at the lake, so I was sure she had been visiting someone…either in the village of Clonloughlin or on the estate. I even
thought of a lover…but I was unable to figure it all out…it was a great mystery to me.’

‘One that has been solved at long last,’ Winston added. ‘And my sister, for one, is vastly relieved. For years poor Sally has believed that she and Anthony somehow drove Min to her death. Thank God that’s finally been cleared up. A cloud has been lifted from the Dunvale family.’