Barbara Taylor Bradford - To Be the Best

Paula put down the receiver, made a little moue.

‘Sorry about that,’ she apologized. Leaning back in the chair, she went on, in an affectionate tone, ‘It’s lovely to see you Michael … and how was New York?’

‘ Terrific. Hectic. I was up to my neck with work, since our business is going well over there right now. Still, I also managed to enjoy myself, even had a few weekends out in the Hamptons.’ He leaned closer to the desk. ‘Paula – ’

‘Yes, Michael?’ she cut in, eyeing him astutely, alerted by the urgency in his voice.

‘I think I may have found it … what you’ve been looking for in the States.’

Excitement flew onto her face. She sat forward slightly, her eagerness only too apparent. ‘Private or public?’

‘Private.’

‘Is it for sale?’

‘Isn’t everything – if the price is right.’ There was a hint of mischief on his face as he held her eyes.

‘Come on, don’t tease me!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is it actually on the market?’

‘No, it isn’t. But what does that mean in this day and age of the takeover? The owners can be approached … it doesn’t cost anything to do that.’

‘What’s the name of the company? Where is it? How big is it?’

Michael chuckled. ‘Hey, steady on, I can only answer one question at a time. The company is called Peale and Doone and it’s in the midwest. It’s not big, only seven stores … suburban stores. In Illinois and Ohio. But it’s an old company, Paula, founded in the 1920s by a couple of Scotsmen who settled in the States and at first dealt only in Scottish imports. You know, woollen goods, tartans and plaids, cashmeres and the like. They extended their inventory during the ’forties and ’fifties. But the merchandise is supposedly stodgy and the company’s in the doldrums, management-wise that is. Quite solid financially, or so I’ve been led to understand.’

‘How did you hear about Peale and Doone?’

‘Through a lawyer friend who’s with a Wall Street law firm. I’d asked him to be on the look-out for a chain and he heard about this company through a colleague in Chicago. My chap thinks they’re ripe for a takeover.’

Paula nodded. ‘Who holds the stock?’

‘The heirs to Mr Peale and Mr Doone.’

‘There’s no guarantee they’d sell, Michael.’

‘Correct. On the other hand, often stockholders don’t know they want to sell until they’re actually approached to do so.’

‘That’s true, and it’s worth investigating further.’

‘You bet it is, and although this chain is small, it might well be perfect for you, Paula.’

‘It’s just a pity the stores are in the boondocks,’ she murmured, and with a grimace, thinking out loud, ‘Big cities like Chicago and Cleveland would be more my speed.’

Michael gave her a sharp stare. ‘Look here, with your flair and expertise you can easily put your own special cachet on any store anywhere , and you know that. Besides, what’s wrong with the boondocks? There’s plenty of money to be made out there.’

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ she answered quickly, suddenly realizing she may have sounded ungrateful after the effort he had made on her behalf. ‘Can you get some more information, please, Michael?’

‘I’ll ring my friend in New York later in the day and ask him to pursue this further.’

‘Does he know you were inquiring about retail chains for me ?’

‘No, but I can tell him if you like.’

Paula said very briskly and firmly, ‘No. I think not. At least not for the moment, if you don’t mind. It’s better no one knows. The mention of my name could send the price skyrocketing. If there’s going to be a price, that is.’

‘Point well taken. I’ll keep Harvey in the dark for the time being.’

‘Please … and thank you, Michael, for going to all this trouble for me.’ Her smile was warm, sincere, as she added, ‘I really do appreciate it.’

‘I’ll do anything for you Paula, anything at all,’ he replied, his eyes filling with affection for her. Then he glanced down at his watch. ‘Oh, it’s getting late! We’d better be going. I hope you don’t mind, but the old man’s invited himself to lunch.’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said, her voice rising slightly. ‘You know I adore Uncle Ronnie.’

‘And the feeling is mutual, I can assure you.’ He threw her an amused look. ‘The old man dotes on you … he thinks the sun shines out of you.’

She picked up her black patent bag and moved across the room. ‘Come on then, let’s go. We don’t want to keep him waiting, do we?’

Michael took her arm, escorted her out of the office.

As they went down in the elevator he could not help thinking about his father and Paula, and their special relationship which had developed over the past few years. The old man treated her like a beloved daughter, whilst she seemed to revere him. Certainly she behaved as if he were the shrewdest man alive, which, of course, he was. Dad’s become her rabbi, Michael thought suddenly with an inner smile, and a substitute for her grandmother. Not surprising that some people considered their friendship peculiar and were jealous. Personally, he applauded it. Paula filled a void in his father’s life. Perhaps he did in hers.

Sir Ronald Kallinski, chairman of the board of Kallinski Industries, walked across the impressive marble lobby of Kallinski House at a leisurely pace.

Tall, slender, a man of dominating presence, he had black wavy hair, heavily frosted with white, and a saturnine face. He had inherited the eyes of his father David and his grandmother Janessa Kallinski; they were of the brightest cornflower blue and seemed all the more startling because of his weatherbeaten complexion.

Renowned for never appearing ruffled or dishevelled, no matter what the circumstances, he was always perfectly groomed and elegantly attired. This morning he was wearing a charcoal grey three-piece suit with an impeccable white shirt and a pearl-grey silk tie. Although he was almost seventy, he was in such robust health and was so vigorous for his age he looked like a much younger man.

As he strolled through the vast entrance foyer, he nodded graciously to several people who recognized him, and paused to admire the Henry Moore reclining figure in the centre, which he had commissioned from the great English sculptor who also happened to be a Yorkshireman born and bred. Sir Ronald was as proud of his north-country origins as he was of his Jewish heritage.

After a brief moment of contemplation in front of the imposing piece of bronze, he continued on his way, pushed through the swing doors and stepped out into the street. He drew to an abrupt halt after taking only two steps, recoiling as the intense heat hit him. He had not realized how hot the day had become.

Sir Ronald could not abide heat of any kind. Upstairs in his executive suite, a series of handsomely-furnished rooms spanning the entire top floor of the giant office complex bearing his name, the atmosphere was icy cold, thanks to the air conditioning that was permanently turned up high and the well-shaded windows. This area of Kallinski House was generally referred to as ‘Antarctica’ by those who occupied it with him. Doris, his secretary of twelve years, had grown used to the freezing temperature by now, as had other executives who had been with him for more than a year or two, and none of them bothered to complain any more. They counteracted the chill simply by wearing warm sweaters in their offices. Even in winter, Sir Ronald kept the executive suite and his various homes as cold as he possibly dared without eliciting violent protests from staff, family and friends.