Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

‘Thank God for you, Bella. You haven’t changed a bit,’ said Florentyna.

‘I have in one respect. I’m six months pregnant. It’s just that I’m like a giant panda — nobody’s noticed.’

The two girls dodged in and out of the airport traffic to the parking lot with Richard carrying the cello and Claude following in their wake. During the journey into San Francisco, Bella revealed that Claude had become an associate in the law firm of Pillsbury, Madison and Sutro.

‘Hasn’t he done well?’ she said.

‘And Bella’s the senior physical education teacher at the local high school and they haven’t lost a hockey game since she joined them,’ said Claude with equal pride.

‘And what do you do?’ said Bella, prodding a finger into Richard’s chest. ‘From your luggage I can only assume that you’re an out-of-work musician.

‘Not exactly,’ said Richard, laughing. ‘I’m a would-be banker, and I shall be looking for a job tomorrow.’

‘When are you getting married?’

‘Not for three weeks at least,’ said Florentyna. ‘I want to be married in a church and they’ll have to read the banns first.’

‘So you’ll be living in sin,’ declared Claude as he drove past the ‘San Francisco Welcomes Careful Drivers’ sign. ‘Quite the modern couple. I always wanted to, but Bella wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘And why did you leave New York so suddenly?’ asked Bella, ignoring Claude’s comment.

Florentyna explained how she had met Richard and the historic feud that existed between their fathers. Bella and Claude listened incredulously to the story, both remaining unusually silent, until the car came to a halt.

‘This is our home,’ said Claude. He put the brakes on firmly and left the car in first gear.

Florentyna got out on the side of a steep hill not quite overlooking the bay.

‘We go higher up the hill when Claude becomes a partner,’ said Bella. ‘But this will have to do for now.’

‘It’s fantastic,’ said Florentyna as they entered the little house. She smiled when she saw hockey sticks in the umbrella stand.

‘I’ll take you straight to your room so you can unpack.’ Bella led her two guests up a small winding staircase to the spare room on the top floor. ‘It may not be the Presidential Suite at the Baron, but it’s better than joining the beatniks on the streets.’

It was some weeks before Florentyna discovered that Bella and Claude had spent the afternoon lugging their double bed up the stairs to the spare room and carrying the two singles back down so that Richard and Florentyna could spend their first night together.

It was 4 A.M. New York time when Florentyna and Richard finally climbed into bed.

‘Well, now that Grace Kelly is no longer available, I suppose I’m stuck with you. Although I don’t know, I think Claude may be right. Perhaps we should live in sin.’

‘If you and Claude lived together in sin, no one in San Francisco would even notice.’

‘Any regrets so far?’

‘Yes. I always hoped I’d end up with a man who slept on the left-hand side of the bed.’

In the morning, after a Bella-type breakfast, Florentyna and Richard scoured the papers for jobs.

‘We must try and find something quickly. I don’t think our money will last for more than about a month,’ said Florentyna.

‘It may be easier for you. I can’t believe that many banks will offer me a job without a degree or at least a reference from my father.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Florentyna, ruffling his hair. ‘We can beat both our fathers.’

Richard turned out to be right. It took Florentyna only three days and her prospective employers one phone call to the personnel director at Bloomingdale’s before she was offered a position at a young fashion shop called Wayout Columbus, which had advertised for a ‘bright sales assistant’ in the Chronicle . It was only another week before the manager realized what a bargain they had picked up.

Richard, on the other hand, plodded around San Francisco from bank to bank. The personnel director always asked him to call back and when he did, there suddenly ‘wasn’t a position available at the present time for someone with his qualifications.’ As the day of the wedding drew nearer, Richard became increasingly anxious.

‘You can’t blame them,’ he told Florentyna. ‘They all do a lot of business with my father and they won’t want to upset him.’

‘Bunch of cowards. Can you think of anyone who has had a row with Lester’s Bank and therefore refuses to deal with them?’

Richard buried his head in his hands and considered the question for a few moments. ‘Only the Bank of America. My father had a quarrel with them once over a stop-loss guarantee which they took rather a long time to honor and it resulted in a considerable loss in interest. He swore he would never do business with them again. It’s worth a try — I’ll give them a call tomorrow.’

When the manager interviewed him the next day he asked if the reason Richard had applied to work at the Bank of America was the well-known disagreement with his father.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Richard.

‘Good, then we have something in common. You will start on Monday as a junior teller, and if you are indeed the son of William Kane I don’t imagine you will stay in that position for long.’

On the Saturday of their third week in San Francisco, Richard and Florentyna were married in a simple ceremony at St. Edward’s Church on California Street. Father O’Reilly — accompanied by Florentyna’s mother — flew in from Chicago to conduct the service. Claude gave the bride away and then ran around to Richard’s side to be best man while Bella was the matron of honor, gargantuan in a pink maternity smock. The six celebrated that night with a dinner at DiMaggio’s on Fisherman’s Wharf. Florentyna’s and Richard’s combined weekly salaries didn’t cover the final bill, so Zaphia came to the rescue.

‘If you four want to eat out again,’ added Zaphia, ‘just give me a call and I’ll be out on the next plane.’

Bride and groom crept into bed at one o’clock in the morning.

‘I never thought I would end up married to a bank teller.’

‘I never thought I would end up married to a shop assistant, but sociologically it ought to make an ideal partnership.’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t end with sociology,’ said Florentyna as Richard turned off the light.

Abel tried every means at his disposal to discover where Florentyna had disappeared. After days of phone calls, telegrams and even attempts to involve the police, he realized he had only one lead left open. He dialed a number in Chicago.

‘Hello,’ said a voice every bit as cold as William Kane’s.

‘You must know why I’m calling.’

‘I can guess.’

‘How long have you known about Florentyna and Richard Kane?’

‘About three months. Florentyna flew up to Chicago and told me all about him. Later I met Richard at the wedding. She didn’t exaggerate. He’s a rare man.’

‘Do you know where they are right now?’ demanded Abel.

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘Find out for yourself.’ The line went dead. Someone else who didn’t want to help.

On the desk in front of him lay an unopened file giving details of his forthcoming trip to Europe. He flicked over the pages. Two airplane tickets, two reservations in London, Edinburgh and Cannes. Two opera tickets, two theater tickets, but now only one person was going. Florentyna would not be opening the Edinburgh Baron or the Cannes Baron.

He sank into a fitful sleep from which he didn’t want to be wakened. George found him slumped at his desk at eight o’clock the next morning.

He promised Abel that by the time he had returned from Europe, he would have located Florentyna, but Abel now realized — after reading Florentyna’s letter again and again — that even if he did, she would not agree to see him.