about her father’s present mood. Morose indeed, Emma thought, with disgust. He brought his troubles on entirely by himself. No, not true. Robin gave him a helping hand, and Elizabeth and Edwina, his cohorts in the plot against me. Aware that Alexander was waiting expectantly, Emma finished, ‘Anyway, since Kit’s not around, he’s not going to hamper you – as he has so often in the past. Your way is clear. Put this plan into operation immediately. You have my blessing.’
‘Thanks, Grandy.’ He leaned forward, said with earnestness, ‘We are doing the right thing.’
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘And don’t worry about the men who are to be retired. They will be all right, really they will.’
She glanced at him quickly, her eyes narrowed under the hooded lids. She thought: I am so glad it’s not Alexander whom I suspect of treachery and duplicity. That I could not bear. It would kill me. She said, ‘It pleases me that you’ve always been so involved with the Fairley mill, and on such a personal basis, Sandy. You care, and that’s important to me. And I appreciate your understanding … I mean of my involvement with that particular mill.’ She smiled wryly and shook her head. ‘The past, you know, is always with us, always reaching out to claim part of us, and I learned a very long time ago that we cannot escape it.’
‘Yes,’ he said laconically, but the look in his eyes expressed so much more.
Emma said, ‘I’ve decided to go to the Fairley mill next week. I’ll be the one to explain the changes we’re going to make. Tell them about the retirements myself, in my own words. It’s only proper.’
‘Yes, it is, Grandy. And they’ll be thrilled to see you. They all worship you, but then you know that.’
‘Humph!’ she snorted. ‘Don’t be so foolish, Alexander. And don’t exaggerate. You know I can’t abide exaggeration.’
Alexander swallowed a smile, remained silent, watching her closely as she sorted through some of the papers on the desk, her head bent. She had spoken swiftly, crossly even, but there had been a curious gruffness in her voice, and he knew that she had been touched by his words. He was amused by her mild chastisement. It was a hoot. Her whole life had been an extraordinary exaggeration, for God’s sake. Why, she was larger than life.
‘Are you still here?’ Emma said, glancing up, frowning and feigning annoyance. ‘I thought you’d be halfway to the office by now, with all you’ve got to do today. Get along with you!’
Alexander laughed, jumped up and went around the desk. He hugged her to him, and kissed the crown of her silvery head. ‘There’s nobody like you in this entire world, Emma Harte,’ he said gently. ‘Nobody like you at all.’
‘Nobody in this world but Emma Harte would have come up with such a preposterous proposition,’ Sebastian Cross cried indignantly, glaring, his face turning choleric.
‘She didn’t come up with it, I did,’ Paula replied in her coldest voice, returning his angry look with a steady unblinking gaze.
‘Tommy rot! It’s your grandmother talking, not you!’
Paula felt herself stiffening in the chair, and she suppressed the swift denial that sprang to her lips. Self-control was essential in all business dealings, and particularly with this odious man. She would not permit him to put her down, nor bait her with his inference that her grandmother was manipulating this negotiation from afar.
‘Think what you will,’ she said, after a slight pause. ‘But regardless of whoever formulated the deal, that’s it, as I’ve outlined it. It’s a take it or leave it situation.’
‘Then we’ll leave it, thank you very much,’ Sebastian shot back, filled with rancorous hatred for her and her strange yet compelling beauty, her money and her power. His dark eyes blazed, as he added, ‘Who the hell needs you or your grandmother.’
‘Now, now, Sebastian, let’s not be too hasty,’ John Cross soothed. ‘And please, do calm down.’ He threw his son a cautionary look, then turned to Paula, his whole manner unexpectedly conciliatory. ‘You must make allowances for my son. Naturally he’s rather upset. After all, your proposal came as something of a shock to him. He is very committed to Aire Communications, as I have always been, and he has no desire to leave the company. Neither do I. In short, we both expect, indeed fully intend, to continue in our present positions. I as chairman of the board, and Sebastian as managing director. Harte Enterprises would have to agree to that.’
‘I don’t believe that is possible, Mr Cross,’ Paula said.
‘Forget it, Dad,’ Sebastian almost shouted. ‘We’ll go elsewhere for the money.’
‘You’ve nowhere else to go,’ Paula could not help retorting icily, reaching for her briefcase on the conference room table. She stood up, announced with finality, ‘Since we seem to have reached an impasse, there’s obviously nothing more to say. I think I’d better leave.’
John Cross sprang to his feet, took her arm. ‘Please,’ he said quietly. ‘Please sit down. Let’s talk a little more about this.’
Paula hesitated, staring at him. Throughout their relatively short meeting, whilst his son had blustered and snarled, John Cross had adopted a stance of inflexibility, displayed a quiet but firm resoluteness to make the deal on his terms, despite their original understanding. Now, for the first time, she detected a sign of wavering on his part. And whether he was aware of it or not, the preceding months of tension and anxiety had taken their toll. The troubles of his floundering company were much in evidence, clearly imprinted on his gaunt and weary face, and there was a quiet desperation behind the bloodshot eyes which held a hint of new panic. He knows I’m right about everything, she thought, carefully assessing him yet again, but he just won’t admit it. The fool. She instantly corrected herself. The man standing before her had built up Aire Communications from nothing, so she could hardly characterize him as a fool. Misguided, yes; and, regrettably, he suffered from the serious malady of paternal blindness. He had long invested his son with qualities Sebastian did not possess, nor was ever likely to possess, and therein lay his downfall.
‘All right,’ she said at last, seating herself tentatively on the edge of the chair. ‘I’ll stay for a few minutes to hear what you have to say. But very frankly, I meant it when I said we’d reached an impasse.’
‘That’s not strictly true, in my opinion,’ he responded, smiling faintly, and his relief at her continuing presence in his board room was barely concealed as he took a cigarette and lit it. ‘Your proposition is a bit preposterous, you know. We want new financing. We don’t want to be taken over and thrown out of our own company. No, no, that’s not what we had in mind when we came to you,’ he finished, shaking his head several times for added emphasis.
Paula gazed at him in amazement. She gave him a curious smile. ‘You’ve just pin-pointed the crux of the matter. You came to us, remember. We didn’t seek you out. And you certainly knew enough about Harte Enterprises, and how we operate, to understand that we never invest in companies that are in trouble. We take those over, reorganize them, and put them under new management. Our management. In other words, we get them running smoothly, efficiently, and on a profitable basis. We’re not interested in financing other people’s continuing disasters. It doesn’t pay.’
John
