Tangled Web (3 page)

His mouth twisted unhappily. “One meeting with the buyers isn't going to change anything, Hope.”

He was underestimating her. In a crisp businesslike tone, she repeated firmly, “The meeting's at nine sharp, Chase. I assume I'll see you there?”

Realizing evidently he owed her at least that much, he held her gaze a long moment, looking into her eyes until she flushed and had to fight herself not to back away. Then he nodded his agreement circumspectly.

She hadn't changed his mind, but what the hell, he thought, he'd give her one more day. For his dad's sake and for Joey's. But then he would have to lower the ax. Like it or not, he had no choice. “I'll be there,” he promised inexorably, letting none of his emotions show. “You can count on it.”

Knowing she had a battle in front of her, Hope walked into the conference room with her head held high. She took her place at the head of the table and motioned for everyone else in the room to sit. Among the buyers was Chase Barrister. In a dark blue suit and tie, he looked very somber and businesslike. He'd also had a haircut, and the dark ash-blond layers were arranged in a neat, preppy style. Used to seeing him more casually dressed, his blond hair rumpled, his posture defiantly casual and laid-back, Hope was disconcerted by his formal attire and exacting attitude. For the first time, he looked a lot like Edmond—powerful, observant, demanding. And though Chase had always possessed Edmond's wit, intelligence and consummate people-sense, he had never shown the slightest inclination to indulge her the way Edmond had. Realizing that, Hope felt her nerves jangle. And she wasn't the only one on edge.

She could see that the seasoned staff was wondering at Chase's presence, too. Although he had worked at the store, summers, while in college, he had not expressed any interest since. He never attended board meetings, never mind Hope's weekly conferences with the staff. Deciding the only way to get through this was to plunge right in, she said, “You're all aware of the lack of recent profits. To survive, Barrister's is going to have to change. We can no longer cater strictly to the socialites. We're going to have to try to capture some of the yuppie market, too.”

“You're not serious, are you?” Steve Supack asked, his look both astonished and grim. Informal spokesperson for group, Steve was in his mid-forties. He had been with the the company for over
twenty years, working his way up steadily from clerk to head buyer for menswear. Although he did not have a college degree, his sense of style and ability to please even the rudest, most discriminating customer had proved invaluable. Edmond had trusted him implicitly.

“I never kid about anything this important,” Hope said, meeting Steve's level gaze. She knew they were all thinking that if the prices and quality of the merchandise went down, so would the size of their sales commissions. She had also known for some time that this had to be done and that it was going to be an uphill battle. Change was never easy, even when it was necessary. She would face criticism from every source—clients, rival businesspeople, and her own employees. But it was the only way she knew to save what had been her late husband's life work, and preserve her young son's inheritance. So persevere she must, no matter how formidable the odds or how disbelieving her employees.

“The changes will be effective immediately. We are going to cater to a broader range of clients, carry fewer high-ticket items, do away with all in-store displays of whimsical gifts, and become a more mainstream department store.”

She glanced at the sea of apprehensive faces, purposefully avoiding Chase's steady, intent gaze. This was hard enough without worrying about what he thought of her ability to run the business, too. She would deal with him later, only when she absolutely had to. Right now, she was concerned about her employees.

She understood and shared the fear of the thirty buyers in front of her. If her plan didn't work, they would doubtless join the stream of other elitist family-owned department stores that had filed for bankruptcy in recent years. But she also understood what they didn't, and what she hoped Chase would soon, that this was the only chance they had to survive. “We'll begin with the Houston Galleria store. If the changes test successfully here, we will change all the other Barrister's around the country in the fall.”

“What do the Board of Directors have to say about this?” a feminine voice from the back challenged openly.

Hope looked up and her heart sank as she focused on the thin blond socialite. It was Rosemary Barrister, Edmond's first wife! When had she walked in?

Chase turned at the sound of his mother's voice. Hope noted, with something akin to satisfaction and surprise, that he didn't look
any happier to see his jet-setting mother than she felt. Holding her voice steady, despite the hatred and resentment she felt emanating from the other woman, Hope answered firmly, “The Board has already approved my plan.”

Rosemary shook her head. “You're going to ruin the reputation of this store.”

Everyone whispered, apparently agreeing with Rosemary.

Hope struggled to control the meeting. “There won't be a Barrister's if we don't make the changes necessary to survive in today's more competitive marketplace.”

Apparently she succeeded in getting across just how desperate their situation was, for the staff fell silent. Feeling drained, and fearing another rude outburst from the volatile Rosemary, Hope dismissed the group of buyers, adding, “I'll expect to see your revised stock orders on my desk one week from today.”

The mood somber, everyone filed out. Some, like Steve Supack, who had known the family for years, paused to say hello to Rosemary. Chase got up and walked to the window overlooking West-heimer.

Wishing to avoid a run-in with Rosemary, Hope began stuffing papers into her briefcase. To no avail. The minute the conference room had cleared out, a belligerent Rosemary shut the heavy oak doors and faced Hope and Chase. “I'll see you in hell before I let you destroy Barrister's!” she warned.

“Mother,” Chase said curtly, looking as aggrieved as Hope felt.

“I told you I'd handle this.”

“Look at her!” Rosemary said. “Barrister's is being ruined. And she still looks like she has the world by the tail!”

Chase looked at Hope. His mother was right about that. Hope did look fantastic, even under fire. But then she always had. That had been part of the problem. Even at a very young, naive nineteen she had possessed a strikingly sensual beauty that had doubtless haunted every man who'd ever come in contact with her. She had wide, vulnerable blue eyes, a generous mouth, bee-stung lips, and pearly white teeth. Those features along with the silky thickness of her dark hair and fair skin never failed to command a second, and third look from men and women alike. And though Chase had tried to remain unaffected, he had noticed. He had always noticed, even to his considerable guilt, when his father was alive.

It didn't help matters to notice that in the years since Joey's
birth, her slim figure had filled out. Now, her curves were more lush and womanly beneath her white wool dress and red blazer.

If they'd met under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have bothered to hide how he felt, but would have pursued her with everything he had, not stopping until she was his. But that hadn't happened. He'd met her as his father's wife and he still had to try to think of her that way, out of respect. To do otherwise would be wrong.

Oblivious to his traitorous thoughts, Hope turned to his mother and said in a soothing tone, “I'm sorry you're upset, Rosemary. Believe me, this pains me as much as it does you.”

“I doubt that,” Rosemary said, making no effort to hide the malevolence in her voice.

Chase saw a flash of hurt, then anger, in Hope's eyes. Knowing his mother's formidable temper, and fearing this would turn into an out and out brawl if left unchecked, Chase touched his mother's arm in a calming gesture. He may not have wanted her here, but now that she was, he would have to deal with her, too. “Mother, I'd like to speak to Hope alone.”

Rosemary hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Shall I wait for you outside?”

“Please.”

He waited until his mother had departed, then aware they hadn't much time, turned to Hope and got straight to the point. “I agree with Steve Supack and my mother. Changing the image of the store may do more harm than good, at this point.”

Striding back to her briefcase, Hope clicked it open, pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed it to him. “Those are the demographics on our latest sales figures and the market projections for the rest of the year, as well as the next decade. I think, Chase, if you study them you'll see I am well-advised to make the changes I've outlined.”

Surprised by her professionalism and her calm in the light of so much tension, Chase hooked a booted foot beneath the lower rung of a wheeled conference chair and pulled it out. He sank into it. He was aware of her standing behind him, so closely he could hear her soft, steady breaths and inhale the sophisticated sexy scent of her perfume. He tried to glance through the papers.

Unfortunately, with Hope so close, it was all but impossible for him to concentrate. Briefly he considered asking her to wait out
side while he read, then promptly discarded that idea. If he did so, Rosemary would wonder why, and he didn't need his mother's prurient curiosity. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he managed to scan the reports, he saw she'd done a thorough, accurate job. Market projections were just that, however, projections. His mind on business once again, he frowned. “It's still a risk.” And more to the point, he wasn't sure hers was a course his father would ever have condoned.

“A risk I'm willing to take,” she pointed out calmly.

“Suppose I'm not?”

“It isn't up to you,” she pointed out levelly. As much as he searched he could find no bitterness or resentment in her eyes, just a quiet practicality that was almost as unnerving as her beauty.

Realizing he was thinking of her as a desirable woman again, one he had no right to yearn for or to know more intimately, Chase pushed the thoughts away. He had to think about business, nothing more. If he didn't, his feelings of guilt and disloyalty would eat him alive.

Chase turned his gaze back to the papers with a grimace of concentration. He knew that Hope held the upper hand in terms of stock; for the moment anyway. She had the controlling interest. If the Board of Directors was behind her, she had the power to do anything she wanted.

Besides, maybe Hope was right. She had been here, working diligently for the past ten years. Her commitment to Barrister's granted her this chance to try to save it her way. “All right,” he conceded finally, feeling in his gut he was doing the only decent thing. “I'll make no move to stop you from executing your plans.”

Hope didn't so much as blink. She faced him quietly. “What about Rosemary?”

Hope was clearly worried about his mother, and she had every right to be. “I'll see she gives you a clear path, too. For a short time,” he specified firmly.

Hope frowned and her blue eyes grew troubled. “How short a time?”

Chase did some rapid calculations. “Three months ought to be enough to turn it around.” If your plan is going to work, he added mentally.

She heaved a sigh of unmasked exasperation. “I'll need at least six months, Chase, with no interference from either of you.”

He shook his head. “Three is all I'm offering, Hope. Take it or leave it.”

Silence fell between them. “I'll take it,” she retorted glumly. He started to return the papers, but she shook her head and waved her hand, indicating she didn't want them. “Your mother might want to see those. Perhaps they'll reassure her.”

Chase doubted that. Rosemary's resentment of Hope was deep and unrelenting; he suspected it always would be. But he said nothing as Hope snapped the locks on either side of her briefcase handle.

“Now that this is settled, I presume you'll be leaving for Costa Rica?”

He only wished it were that easy. “Not exactly. I'm short of funds. The lack of profits caught us unaware. I loaned money to my mother to pay the rent on her villa in Monte Carlo. So, until I can scrounge up more money for my research, I'll be staying in Houston, keeping tabs on what's going on here personally.”

Staying on, she thought. If he did that, they'd be seeing each other almost twenty-four hours a day, both at work and at home. They'd take meals together. Where she may have wanted to be closer to Chase for Edmond's sake and for the reunification of the Barrister family, she had never wanted this. Especially not when she knew how attracted she was to him, that she had only to look at him or be near to him to feel a resurgence of desire. And yet, because he was Edmond's son and had once lived there, too, she could hardly tell him to go.

Feeling like she'd sustained a strong blow to the chest, Hope struggled to catch her breath and keep her voice noncommittal and even. “How long?”

Looking totally unaffected by her reluctance to have him underfoot, Chase shrugged. “Until I get enough to underwrite another expedition.”

That could take weeks, even months, Hope knew. Weeks of unbearable tension, of dealing with him, and of seeing him at all hours of the day and night, maybe even in his pajamas!
If
he wore pajamas. Something told her he
didn't.
What was she going to do? Simultaneously desperate to get him out from underfoot, and feeling she owed him whatever financial help she could spare, because of Edmond, she offered to help speed him on his way. “Look, I don't have a lot of ready cash available to me either right now,
but if your returning to Costa Rica is a matter of a simple plane fare and a few months provisions, a guide, I could—”

“Why would you want to do that for me?” he cut in abruptly, regarding her suspiciously. He knew, she felt, that she very much wanted to get rid of him A.S.A.P.

“Because you're Edmond's son.”
Because I find you distracting and attractive and it's killing me inside because even though I'm single now it makes me feel disloyal to Edmond. Because I know you think the worst of me, that I married Edmond for his money when in reality money never had anything to do with my feelings for your father.
But knowing she'd never convince anyone of that, never mind Chase, she decided to concentrate on the aspects of their relationship they could discuss.

“So?” he challenged mildly. “I'm Edmond's son? I'm not yours.”

How well she knew that. Struggling for equilibrium, Hope said, “You're family, Chase.” Neither of us might have chosen it, but there it is. I have to do what Edmond would have wanted. And beyond that, for reasons she couldn't really define, she wanted to help Chase achieve his goals and be happy. After all, their family difficulties aside, he was a kind, selfless person, in ways that she truly admired. It felt right somehow that she help him. “You're family,” she repeated.