Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

Florentyna smiled and turned to Bella, who was remarking that it was sad Wendy was not with them that day.

‘Not that she ever did a day’s work,’ added Bella, grinning.

‘Florentyna could not have worked harder in her final year, and no one will be surprised by her achievements,’ said Miss Rose.

‘I am sure she owes a great deal to you, Miss Rose,’ Abel replied.

‘No, no, but I was hoping to persuade Florentyna to return to Cambridge and study for a Ph.D., and then join the faculty, but she seems to have other ideas.’

‘We certainly do,’ said Abel. ‘Florentyna will be joining the Baron Group as a director, with special responsibilities for the leasing of the shops in the hotels. They have grown out of control in the last few years and I fear I have been neglecting them.’

‘You didn’t tell me that was what you had in mind, Florentyna,’ boomed Bella. ‘I thought you said—’

‘Shhhhh, Bella,’ said Florentyna, putting a finger to her lips.

‘Now, what’s this, young lady? Have you been keeping a secret from me?’

‘Now’s not the time or place, Papa.’

‘Oh, come on, don’t keep us in suspense,’ said Edward. ‘Is it the United Nations or General Motors who feel they cannot survive without you?’

‘I must confess,’ said Miss Rose, ‘now that you have gained the highest credentials this university can award, I should be fascinated to know how you intend to use them.’

‘Hoping to be a Rockette, perhaps,’ said Claude.

‘That’s the nearest anyone has been yet,’ said Florentyna.

Everyone laughed except Florentyna’s mother.

‘Well, if you can’t find a job in New York, you can always come and work in San Francisco,’ said Bella.

‘I’ll bear the offer in mind,’ Florentyna said lightly.

To her relief, further discussion of her future was impossible because the graduation ceremony was about to begin. George Kennan, the former U.S. ambassador to Russia, delivered the graduation address. His speech was received enthusiastically. Florentyna particularly enjoyed the quotation from Bismarck which ended his peroration: ‘Let us leave just a few tasks for our children to perform.’

‘You’ll deliver that address one day,’ said Edward as they passed Tricentennial Hall.

‘And pray, sir, what will be my chosen subject?’

‘The problems of being the first woman President.’

Florentyna laughed. ‘You still believe it, don’t you?’

‘And so do you, even if it will always fall upon me to remind you.’

Edward had been seen regularly with Florentyna during the year, and friends hoped they might soon announce their engagement, but Edward knew that would never be. This was one woman who would always be unattainable, he thought. They were destined to be close friends, never lovers.

After Florentyna had packed her last few belongings and said goodbye to her mother, she checked that she had left nothing in her room and sat on the end of her bed reflecting on her time at Radcliffe. All she had left to show for it was that she had arrived with three suitcases and was leaving with six and a Bachelor of Arts degree. A crimson ice hockey pennant once given to her by Scott was all that remained on the wall. Florentyna unpinned the pennant, held it for a moment, then dropped it into the wastepaper basket.

She sat in the back of the car with her father as the chauffeur drove out of the campus for the last time.

‘Could you drive a little slower?’ she asked.

‘Certainly, ma’am.’

Florentyna turned and stared out of the rear window until the spires of Cambridge were no longer visible above the trees, and there was nothing of her past to see.

The chauffeur brought the Rolls-Royce to a halt at the traffic lights on Arlington Street on the west side of the Public Garden. He waited for the lights to turn green while Florentyna chatted with her father about their forthcoming trip to Europe.

As the lights changed, another Rolls passed in front of them, turning off Commonwealth Avenue. Another graduate and parent were deep in conversation in the back.

‘I sometimes think it would have been better for you to have gone to Yale, Richard,’ she said.

Richard’s mother looked at him approvingly. He already had the fine aristocratic looks that had attracted her to his father over twenty years before, and now he had made it five generations of the family who had graduated from Harvard.

‘Why Yale?’ he asked gently, pulling his mother back from her reminiscences.

‘Well, it might have been healthier for you to get away from the introverted air of Boston.’

‘Don’t let Father hear you say that; he would consider such a suggestion nothing less than treason.’

‘But do you have to return to Harvard Business School, Richard? Surely there must be other business schools?’

‘Like Father, I want to be a banker. If I’m going to follow in his footsteps, Yale isn’t equipped to tie Harvard’s laces,’ he said mockingly.

A few minutes later, the Rolls came to a halt outside a large house on Beacon Hill. The front door opened and a butler stood in the doorway.

‘We have about an hour before the guests arrive,’ said Richard, checking his watch. ‘I’ll go and change immediately. Mother, perhaps we could meet up a little before seven-thirty in the West Room?’ He even sounded like his father, she thought.

Richard bounded up the stairs two at a time; in most houses he could have managed three. His mother followed behind at a more leisurely pace, her hand never once touching the banister.

The butler watched them disappear before returning to the pantry. Mr. Kane’s cousin, Henry Cabot Lodge, would be joining them for dinner, so he wanted to double-check that everything below stairs was perfect.

Richard stood in the shower smiling at the thought of his mother’s concern. He had always wanted to graduate from Harvard and improve on his father’s achievements. He couldn’t wait to enroll at the Business School next fall, although he had to admit he was looking forward to taking Mary Bigelow to Barbados that summer. He had met Mary in the rehearsal rooms of the Music Society and later they were both invited to play in the university string quartet. The pert little lady from Radcliffe played the violin far better than he performed on the cello. When he eventually serenaded the reluctant Mary into bed he found she was again the better tuned, despite her pretense at inexperience. Since those days he had also discovered she was highly strung.

Richard turned the dial to ‘Cold’ for a brief moment before leaping out. He dried and changed into evening dress. He checked himself in the mirror: double-breasted. Richard suspected he would be the only person that night wearing the latest fashion — not that it mattered when you were a little over six feet, slim and dark. Mary had once said that he looked good in everything from jock strap to morning coat.

He went downstairs and waited in the West Room for his mother to join him. When she appeared the butler served them both a drink.

‘Good heavens, are double-breasted suits back in fashion?’ she inquired.

‘You had better believe it. The very latest thing, Mother.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘I remember...’

The butler coughed. They both looked around. ‘The Honorable Henry Cabot Lodge,’ he announced.

‘Cabot,’ said Richard’s mother.

‘Kate my dear,’ he replied, before kissing her on the cheek. Kate smiled; her cousin was wearing a double-breasted jacket.

Richard smiled, because it looked twenty years old.

Richard and Mary Bigelow returned from Barbados almost as brown as the natives. They stopped off in New York to have dinner with Richard’s parents, who thoroughly approved of his choice. After all, she was the great-niece of Alan Lloyd, who had succeeded Richard’s grandfather as chairman of the family bank.