The Prodigal Daughter (29 page)

“Agreed,” said
Florentyna. “But the more we expand, the more that problem will diminish. And
if I choose the right designer we’ll end up with our trademark clothes also
being sold by our rivals.”

“Has that proved
worthwhile for other designers?”

“In the case of
Pierre Cardin, the designer became more famous than the stores.”

“Finding such a
man won’t be easy.”

“Didn’t I find
you, Mr. Kane?”

“No, Jessie, I
found you.”

Florentyna
smiled. “Two children, a sixth shop, and you’re going to be invited to join the
board of Lester’s. Most important of all, I have a chance to meet your father.
What more could we want?”

“It hasn’t
happened yet.”

“Typical
banker.
Whatever the forecast, you expect it to rain by midafternoon.”

Annabel started
to cry.

“See what I
mean?” said Richard. “Your daughter’s at it again.”

“Why is it
always my daughter who is bad and your son who is good?”

Despite
Florentyna’s desire to travel to New York immediately aftei Kate had returned to
the East Coast, she was more than fully occupied with opening the new shop in
San Diego, keeping an eye on the other five stores, and somehow looking for the
right designer-while still trying to be a mother. As the day for their journey
to New York grew nearer, she became more and more nervous. She selected her own
wardrobe carefully and bought several new outfits for the children. She even
purchased a new shirt with a thin red stripe running through it for Richard,
but she doubted that he would wear it except on weekends. Florentyna lay awake
each night anxious that Richard’s father might not approve of her, but Richard
kept reminding her of Katherine’s words: not half as nervous as he is.”

To celebrate the
opening of the sixth store and the imminent reconciliation with his father,
Richard took Florentyna to a performance of The Nutcracker by the Italian State
Ballet Company at the War Memorial Opera House.

Richard didn’t
care much for the ballet himself, but he was surprised to find Florentyna
equally restless during the performance. As soon as the house lights went up
for the intermission he asked if anything was wrong.

“Yes. I’ve been
waiting almost an hour to find out who designed those fabulous costumes.”
Florentyna started to thumb through her program.

“I would have
described them as outrageous,” said Richard.

“That’s because
you’re color-blind,” said Florentyna. Having found what she was looking for,
she started reading the program notes to Richard. “His name is Gianni di
Ferranti and his biographical sketch says he was bom in Milan in 1931 and is on
his fiist tour with the ballet company since leaving the Institute of Modem Art
in Florence. I wonder if he would consider resigning from the company and
working for me.”

“I wouldn’t,
with the inside information I have on the company,” said Richard helpfully.

“Perhaps he’s
more adventurous than you, darting.”

“Or
just mad.
After all, he is Italian.”

“Well, there’s
only one way to find out,” said Florentyna, standing up.

“And how do you
propose doing that?”

“By
going backstage.”

“But you’ll miss
the second half.”

“Ile second half
might not change my whole life,” said Florentyna, stepping into the aisle.

Richard followed
her out of the theater and they made their way around the outside of the
building in silence until they reached the stage door. A young security guard
pushed open his window.

“Can I help
you?” he asked, sounding as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Yes,”
Florentyna said. “I have an appointment with Gianni di Ferranti.”

She sounded very
self-assured.

Richard looked
at his wife disapprovingly.

“Your name,
please,” said the guard, picking up a phone.

“Florentyna
Kane.”

The guard
repeated the name into the mouthpiece, listened for a moment,
then
replaced the receiver.

“He says he’s
never heard of you.”

Florentyna was
taken aback for a moment, but Richard took out his wallet and placed a
twenty-dollar bill on the ledge in front of the guard.

“Perhaps he has
heard of me,” said Richard.

“You better go
and find out,” said the guard, casually removing the hill.

“Through the
door take the corridor to your right. Second floor on the left,” he added
before slamming down the window.

Richard led
Florentyna to the stairs.

“Most businessmen
are involved in a little bribery at some stage in their careers,” she teased.

“Now, don’t get
annoyed just because your lie failed,” said Richard, grinning.

When they
reached the room, Florentyna knocked firmly and put her head around the half-opened
door.

A tall,
dark-haired Italian was seated in one corner of the room eating spaghetti.
Florentyna’s first reaction was one of admiration. He was wearing a pair of
tailored jeans and blue blazer over a casual open-necked shirt. But the thing
that struck her most was the young man’s long, artistic fingers. The moment he
saw Florentyna he rose gracefully to his feet.

“Gianni,” she
began expansively. “What a privilege-”

“No,” said the
man in a soft Italian accent. “He’s in the washroom. “

Richard smirked
and received a sharp kick on the ankle. Fiorentyna was about to speak again
when the door opened and in walked a man no more than five feet five who was
nearly bald, although Florentyna knew from the program notes that he was not
yet thirty. His clothes were beautifully cut, but the spaghetti had had a
greater effect on his waistline than on his friend’s.

“Who are these
people, Valario?”

“Mrs. Florentyna
Kane,” said Florentyna before the young man could speak.

“And this is my
husband, Richard.”

“What do you
want?” he asked, not looking at her while taking the seat opposite his
companion.

“To
offer you a job as my designer.”

“Not another
one,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

Florentyna took
a deep breath. “Who else has spoken to you?”

“In
New York, Yves Saint-Laurent.
In Los Angeles, Pierre Cardin.
As well as
countless others in London, Paris and Rome.
Need I go on?”

“But did they
offer you a percentage of the profits?”

What profits?
Richard wanted to ask, but remembered the kick on the ankle.

“I already have
six shops and we have plans for another six in the pipeline,” Florentyna
continued impulsively. She hoped that Gianni di Ferranti hadn’t noticed her
husband’s eyebrows rising dramatically at her words.

“The turnover
could be millions within a few years,” she said.

“Sain t- Lit u
rent’s turnover already is,” said di Ferranti, still not turning to face her.

“Yes, but what
did they offer you?”

“Twenty-five
thousand dollars a year and one percent of the profits. “

“I’ll offer you
twenty and five percent.”

The Italian
waved a dismissive hand.

“Twenty-five
thousand dollars and ten percent?” she said.

The Italian
laughed, rose from his chair and opened the door for Florentyna and Richard to
leave. She stood firm.

“You are the
sort of person that would expect Zeffirefli to be available to design your next
shop while still hoping to retain Luigi Ferpozzi as honorary advisor. Not that
I could expect you to understand what I’m talking about,” he added.

“Luigi,” said Florentyna
haughtily, “is a dear friend of mine.”

The Italian
placed his hands on his hips and roared with laughter. “You Americans are all
the same. Next you’ll be saying you designed the Pope’s vestments.”

Richard had some
sympathy with him.

“Your bluff is
called, Signora. Ferpozzi came to see the show in Los Angeles only last week
and spoke to me at length about my work. Now at least I have found a way to be
rid of you.” Di Ferranti left the door open and picked up the phone on his
dresser and without another word dialed a 213 number. No one spoke while he
waited for the call to be answered. Eventually Florentyna heard a voice from
the other end of the line.

“Luigi?” said di
Ferranti. “It’s Gianni. I have an American lady with me called Mrs. Kane who
claims she is a friend of yours.”

He listened for
a few moments, his smile becoming broader.

“He says he
doesn’t know anyone called Mrs. Kane and perhaps you would feel more at home on
Alcatraz?”

“No, I
Wouldn’t,” said Florentyna. “But tell him he thinks my father built it.”

Gianni di
Ferranti repeated Florentyna’s sentiments over the phone. As he listened to the
reply his face became puzzled. He finally looked back at her. “Luigi says to
offer you a cup of tea. But only if you’ve brought your own pot.”

It took
Florentyna two lunches, one dinner with Richard, one with her bankers, and a
big enough advance to move Gianni and his friend Vaiario from Milan to a new
home in San Francisco to persuade the little Italian to join her as the
company’s new in-house designer. Florentyna was confident that this was the
breakthrough she had been looking for. In the excitement of negotiating with
Gianni she quite forgot they were only six days away from going to New York to
meet Richard’s father.

Florentyna and
Richard were having breakfast that Monday morning whcn his face turned so white
that she thought he was going to faint.

“What’s the
matter, darling?”

He pointed to
the front page of The Wall Street Journal as if unable to speak. Florentyna
read the bald announcement and silently handed the paper back to her husband.
He read the statement slowly for a second time to be certain he understood the
full implications. The brevity and force of the words were stunning: “William
Lowell Kane, the president and chairman of Lester’s Bank, resigned after
Friday’s board meeting.”

Richard knew
that Wall Street would put the worst interpretation possible on such a sudden
departure, made without explanation or any suggestion of illness, especially as
his only son, a banker, had not been invited to take his place on the board. He
put his arms around Florentyna and held her close to his chest.

“Does it mean
our trip to New York will be canceled?”

“Not unless your
father was the cause.”

“It can’t
happen-I won’t let it happen. Not after waiting so long.”

The phone rang
and Richard leaned over to answer it, not letting go of Florentyna.

“Hello?”

“Richard,
it’s
Mother. I’ve been trying to get away from the house.
Have you heard the news?”

“Yes, I’ve just
read it in The Wall Street Journal. What in heaven’s name made Father resign?”

“I’m not certain
of all the details myself, but as far as I can gather, Mr. Rosnovski has held
six percent of the bank’s shares for the past ten years, and for some reason he
only needed eight percent to be able to remove your father from the chair.”

“To invoke
Article Seven,” said Richard.

“Yes, that’s
right. But I’m still not sure what that means.”

“Well, Father
had the clause put into the bank’s bylaws to protect
himself
from ever being taken over. He considered the clause was foolproof because only
someone in possession of eight percent or more could challenge his authority.
He never imagined anyone other than the family could ever get their hands on
such a large stake in the company. Father would never have given up his
fifty-one percent of Kane and Cabot to become chairman of Lester’s if he had
felt an outsider could remove him.”

“But that still
doesn’t explain why he had to resign.”

“I suppose
Florentyna’s father somehow got hold of another two percent.

That would have
given him the same powers as Father and made life at the bank impossible for
him as chairman.

“But how could
he make life impossible?” It was now obvious to Richard that his father had not
even confided in Kate concerning what was happening at the bank.

“Among the
safeguards that Article Seven stipulates, if I remember correctly,” Richard
continued, “is that anyone in possession of eight percent of the shares can
hold up any transaction the hftnk is involved in for ninety days. I know from
the bank’s audit that Mr. Rosnovski held six percent. I suppose he obtained the
other two percent from Peter Parfitt.”

“No, he didn’t
get the shares from Parfitt,” said Kate. “I know your father managed to secure
those shares by getting an old friend to purchase them for considerably more
than they are worth, which is why he felt so relaxed lately and confident about
the future.”