Barbara Taylor Bradford - Her Own Rules

“There’s a certain clarity about the sky tonight, even though it’s dark,” Meredith pointed out. “There’re no clouds at all, and the lights of the city are creating a wonderful glow….”

The two women stood looking out the window for a few seconds longer, and then, turning away, moving toward her desk, Meredith said, “I just need to go over a couple of things with you, Amy, and then you can go.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s seven already. Sorry to have kept you so late.”

“It’s not a problem. And you’ll be away for a week, so I’ll be able to take it easy while you’re gone.”

Meredith laughed and raised a perfectly shaped blonde brow. “You taking it easy would be the miracle of the century. You’re a workaholic.”

“Oh no, not me, that’s you, lady boss. You take first prize in that category.”

Meredith’s deep green eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed again, and then, pulling a pile of manila files toward her, she opened the top one, glanced down at the sheet of figures, and studied them for a split second.

Finally, she looked up and said, “I’ll be gone for longer than a week, Amy. I think it will be two at least. I’ve quite a lot to do in London and Paris. Agnes is very set on buying that old manor house in Montfort-L’Amaury, and you know she’s like a dog with a bone when she gets her teeth into something. However, I’m going to have to work very closely with her on this one.”

“From the photographs she sent it looks like a beautiful property, and it’s perfect for us,” Amy volunteered, and then asked, “You’re not suddenly against it, are you?”

“No, I’m not. And what you say is true, it is ideal for Havens. My only worry is how much do we have to spend in order to turn that old house into a comfortable inn with all the modern conveniences required by the seasoned, indeed pampered, traveler? That’s the key question. Agnes gets rather vague when it comes to money, you know that. The cost of new plumbing is not something that concerns her particularly, or even interests her. I’m afraid practicalities have always eluded Agnes.”

“She’s very creative, though, especially when it comes to marketing the inns.”

“True. And I’m usually stuck with the plumbing.”

“And the decorating. Let’s not forget that, Meredith. You know you love designing the inns, putting your own personal stamp on them, not to mention everything in them.”

“I do enjoy that part of it, yes. On the other hand, I must consider the costs, and more than ever, this time around. Agnes can’t put up any more of her own money, so she won’t be involved in the purchase of the manor or the cost of its remodeling. And the same applies to Patsy in England, she can’t offer any financial help either. I have to raise the money myself. And I will. Agnes and Patsy are somewhat relieved that I’ll be taking care of the financing, but, more so than ever, I will have to keep a tight rein on the two of them when it comes to the remodeling.”

“Are you sure you want to go ahead with the new inns in Europe?” Amy asked. Until that moment she had not realized that Meredith would be doing all the financing, and she detected a degree of worry in her voice.

“Oh yes, I do want to buy them. We have to acquire additional inns in order to expand properly. Not that I want the company to become too big. I think six hotels is enough, Amy, certainly that number’s just about right for me, easy to manage, as long as Agnes is running the French end and Patsy the English.”

“Six,” Amy repeated, eyeing Meredith quizzically. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Meredith looked baffled. “I’m not following you.”

“You said six inns are easy to manage, but with the two new ones in Europe you’ll actually own seven, if you count the three here. Are you thinking of selling off one of the American hostelries?”

“I have been toying with the idea,” Meredith admitted.

“Silver Lake Inn would bring in the most money,” Amy remarked. “After all, it’s the most successful of the three.”

Meredith stared at Amy.

Suddenly she felt the same tight pain in her chest that she had the week before, when Henry Raphaelson, her friendly private banker, had uttered the same words over lunch at ‘21’.

“I could never sell Silver Lake,” Meredith answered at last, repeating what she had said to Henry.

“I know what you mean.”

No, you don’t, Meredith thought, but she remained silent. She simply inclined her head, lowered her eyes, stared at the financial breakdown, the costs of remodeling the manor in Montfort-L’Amaury, but not really concentrating on the figures.

She was thinking of Silver Lake Inn. No one really knew what it meant to her, not even her daughter and her son, who had both been born there. Silver Lake had always been her haven, the first safe haven she had known, and the first real home she had ever had. And Jack and Amelia Silver, the owners, had been the first people who had ever shown her any kindness in her entire life. They had loved and cherished her like a younger sister, nurtured her, brought out her potential—encouraged her talent, helped her to hone her business acumen, applauded her style. And from them she had learned about decency and kindness, dignity and courage.

Jack and Amelia. The only family she had ever had. For a moment she saw them both very clearly in her mind’s eye. They were the first human beings she had ever loved. There had been no one to love before them. Except Spin, the little dog, and even she had been taken away from her just when they had become attached to each other.

Silver Lake was part of her very being, part of her soul. She knew she could never, would never, sell it whatever the circumstances.

Meredith took a deep breath and eventually the pain in her chest began to subside. Lifting her eyes, focusing on Amy, she remarked almost casually, “I might have a buyer for Hilltops. That’s why I’ve decided to go up to Connecticut tonight.”

Amy was surprised, but she merely nodded. “What about Fern Spindle? Don’t you think you’d get more for the Vermont inn than for Hilltops?”

“It’s certainly a much more valuable property, Amy, that’s true, valued in the many millions. But someone has to want it, has to want to buy. Only then does it become viable to me.”

Amy nodded.

Meredith went on. “Blanche knows I’m coming up tonight. I’m staying at Silver Lake, there’s no point in having her open up the house for one night. Jonas will stay over and drive me up to Sharon tomorrow morning, to meet the potential buyers. After the meeting at Hilltops I’ll come straight back to the city, and I’ll leave for London on Saturday as planned.”

Meredith picked up a manila folder and handed it to Amy. “Here’re my letters, all signed, and a bunch of checks for Lois.” Leaning back in her chair, she finished with, “Well, I guess that’s it.”

“No…you have e-mail, Meredith.”

Meredith swung around to face her computer on the narrow table behind her chair, peered at the screen.

Thurs. Jan 5 1995

Hi Mom:

Thanks for check. Helps. Have a fab trip. Go get ’em. Bring back the bacon. Luv ya loads.

JON

“Well, well, doesn’t he have a way with words,” Meredith said pithily, shaking her head. But she was smiling inwardly, thinking of her twenty-one-year-old son, Jonathan, who had always had the ability to amuse her. He had turned out well. Just as his sister had. She was lucky in that respect.

Left alone in her office, Meredith studied the figures from her French partner. She thought they seemed a bit on the high side, and reminded herself that Agnes was not always as practical as she should be when it came to refurbishing. It might be possible to shave them a bit, she decided.