Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

‘Is there any hope that Richard will be invited as well?’

‘You know the answer to that, Florentyna.’

‘Another game, George?’ said Richard.

‘No, thank you. I know a winner when I see one.’ He removed his wallet from an inside pocket and handed over eleven dollars. ‘Mind you, I still blame the doubles.’

Nancy Ching had run the store well while Florentyna was away in the hospital, but with Kane junior safely parked in a crib in the back room, Florentyna was only too happy to return to work. She explained to Miss Tredgold when she sent the first photo of them together that she was hoping to be a responsible mother until it became impossible not to employ someone. ‘Not that I’ll find anyone like you outside of Much Hadham,’ she added. During the first two years of their marriage, both she and Richard had concentrated on building their careers. While Florentyna was acquiring her second store, Richard was advancing another rung on the bank ladder.

Florentyna would have liked to spend more time concentrating on fashion trends rather than day-to-day finances, but she felt unable to ask Richard to spend every night on her books after he returned from the bank. She discussed her bold ideas for the future with Nancy, who was a little skeptical about placing so many orders for small women’s sizes.

‘It may suit me’ — the petite Chinese girl grinned — ‘but not most American women.’

‘I don’t agree. Small is going to be beautiful and we must be the first to anticipate it. If American women think it’s the trend, we are going to witness a skinny revolution the like of which will even make you look fat.’

Nancy laughed. ‘Looking at your future orders for fours and sixes, you’d better be right.’

Neither Richard nor Florentyna brought up the vexing subject of their families after George’s visit since they both despaired of any reconciliation. They both spoke to their mothers on the phone from time to time, and although Richard received letters from his two sisters, he was particularly sad that he was not invited to attend Virginia’s wedding. This unhappy state of affairs might have drifted on indefinitely had it not been for two events. The first was hard to avoid, while the second was caused when the wrong person picked up the phone.

The first occurred because it was Los Angeles’ turn to open a Baron. Florentyna followed its progress with great interest while she was preparing to open her third store. The new hotel was completed in September 1960 and Florentyna took the afternoon off to watch Senator John Kennedy perform the opening ceremony. She stood at the back of a large crowd that had come to see the candidate while she kept an eye on her father. He seemed to her a lot older and had certainly put on weight. From those who were surrounding him it was obvious that he was now well connected in Democratic circles. If Kennedy was elected, she wondered, would her father be offered the chance to serve under him. Florentyna was impressed by the competent speech of welcome Abel made, but she was mesmerized by the young Presidential candidate who seemed to her to embody the new America. After she had heard him, she passionately wanted John Kennedy to be the next President. As soon as the speech was over, she left the newly opened Baron resolved to give time in San Francisco and send money to the Ninth District of Illinois for the Kennedy campaign, although she suspected that her father had already contributed a sum that would make her own efforts appear minuscule. Richard remained unshakably Republican and a supporter of Nixon.

‘No doubt you remember what Eisenhower said when he was asked about your standard-bearer?’ Florentyna teased.

‘Something unflattering, I’m sure.’

‘ “During your administration,” a journalist asked him, “in which major decisions has Vice President Nixon participated?” ’

‘And what was Ike’s reply?’ inquired Richard.

‘ “If you give me a week, I might think of one.” ’

During the remaining weeks of the campaign, Florentyna spent what free time she had addressing envelopes and answering phone calls at the party’s headquarters in San Francisco. Unlike the past two elections, she was convinced the Democrats had found a man in whom she could place unreserved support. The final television debate between the candidates re-awakened in her the political ambitions so nearly buried by Henry Osborne. Kennedy’s charisma and political insight were dazzling, and Florentyna was left to wonder how anyone who had followed the campaign could possibly vote Republican. Richard pointed out to her that charisma and good looks were not to be traded for a future policy and a proven record, even if it had to include a five o’clock shadow.

All through election night Richard and Florentyna sat up watching the results. The twists, the turns and the upsets lasted all the way to California, where by the smallest margin in American electoral history Kennedy became President. Florentyna was ecstatic about the final outcome, while Richard maintained that Kennedy would never have made it without Mayor Daley and the Cook County ballot boxes — or lack of them.

‘Would you vote the Democratic ticket if I were running for office?’

‘It would depend on your policies. I’m a banker, not a sentimentalist.’

‘Well, unsentimental banker, I want to open another store.’

‘What?’ said Richard.

‘There’s a bargain going in San Diego, a building with a lease of only two years to run, but it could be renewable.’

‘How much?’

‘Thirty thousand dollars.’

‘You’re mad, Jessie. That’s your projected profits for this year gone in expansion.’

‘And while you’re on the subject of expansion, I’m pregnant again.’

When the thirty-fifth President delivered his inaugural address Florentyna and Richard watched the ceremony on television in the apartment above the main shop.

‘Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans, born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace...’ Florentyna’s eyes never once left the man in whom so many people had placed their trust. ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country...’ When President Kennedy concluded his speech, Florentyna watched the crowd rise and found herself joining in the applause. She wondered how many people were clapping in other homes throughout America. She turned to Richard.

‘Not bad for a Democrat,’ he said, aware he was also clapping.

Florentyna smiled. ‘Do you think my father is there?’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘So now we sit and wait for the appointment.’

George wrote the next day to confirm that Abel had been in Washington for the celebrations. He ended on the words: ‘Your father seems confident about going to Warsaw, and I am equally sure that if he’s offered the position, it will be easier to get him to meet Richard.’

‘What a friend George has turned out to be,’ said Florentyna.

‘To Abel as well as to us,’ said Richard thoughtfully.

Each day Florentyna checked the new appointments as they were released by Pierre Salinger, the White House press secretary, but no announcement concerning the Polish ambassador was forthcoming.

When Florentyna did see her father’s name in the paper, she could hardly miss it: the banner headline was all across the front page:

Florentyna read the story in disbelief.

NEW YORK — Abel Rosnovski, the international hotelier known as the Chicago Baron, was arrested at 8:30 this morning at an apartment on East Fifty-seventh Street by agents of the FBI. The arrest took place after his return the previous night from a business trip to Turkey, where he had opened the Istanbul Baron, the latest in his chain of hotels. Rosnovski was charged by the FBI with bribery and corruption of government officials in fourteen different states. The FBI also wants to question ex-Congressman Henry Osborne, who has not been seen in Chicago for the past two weeks.