“There is something I missed out,” M said. “I should have explained that I can’t possibly introduce this line of products until 2009 or 2010, because I will be under contract to Jean-Louis Tremont all of this year and next year as well. Aside from being legally bound to him, I’ll be making around ten million dollars over these two years.”
“You’ve just answered one of the questions. I thought—”
“You grow to look more like her every day,” M interrupted, staring at her sister. “The likeness is remarkable. How old was she when that was painted?”
“In her thirties I think, a bit older than I am now. Mummy would know how old Grandy was when she sat for this portrait. Before Mum was born, of course, but she is the expert around here.”
M didn’t speak for a moment, her eyes resting on the painting of their very famous great-grandmother, a beauty with her red hair and green eyes. Her sister was the spitting image of her; it was actually uncanny the likeness. Clearing her throat, M asked, “So what were the other questions you had?”
“I was wondering if you had made a long-term plan, and by that I mean do you have any other products up your sleeve beyond the perfume, the toilet water, and the body creams? Any thoughts about a cosmetics line?”
“I have come up with some good ideas, and not to digress, but what do you think of the name, M Is Magic?”
“I like it. I also like M, just the one initial, because you have made it so famous. But I also like Magic. The simple packaging is also great. The black or clear glass bottle, the plain labeling. It’s chic, different. I suppose youthful is the word I’m looking for.”
“I’m so pleased, Birdie.”
“I’m glad you are, Emsie.”
M groaned. “Okay. Truce, Lin. Okay?”
Linnet O’Neill nodded. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about, darling, but I’m not sure this is the right time to do it.”
Frowning, M said quietly, sounding worried, “You look ever so serious. Is there a problem in the family? Or something wrong?”
“No, not in the way I believe you mean. But I am worried about something, in fact it’s beginning to preoccupy me.”
“And what’s that?”
“The succession. . . . Who’s going to succeed me, M? Who’s going to run Harte’s?”
“But you’re not old, you’re not going to retire,” M cut in peremptorily. “You’re in your thirty-second year, for heaven’s sake. You’ve twenty more years in this job, if not longer.”
“What if something happened to me? Who’d take over . . .” Linnet let her voice trail off and stared hard at her sister. “Would you? Would you take the responsibility of running the stores she created?” As she spoke, Linnet looked up at the portrait of Emma Harte. “We can’t let her down, you know.”
“I would do it, Linny, yes, if I had to, obviously. I’d never let the side down. But what about our cousins? They both worked here, ran the stores with you and Mummy. What I mean is, they have more experience than I do. And there’s the Dorf . . . the Dauphine. Tessa might come back from Paris.”
Linnet shook her head. “I’ve talked with them all, the three of them, separately, of course, and at different times. But they’ve got their hands full, what with their husbands and babies galore, and running various homes. None of them are interested. In fact, there is only you.”
“Look here, Lin, I don’t like the way you’re talking, no, not at all. Are you thinking of retiring?” M got up, went and stood next to her sister, took hold of her arm. “Are you?” she repeated, staring into her eyes.
“Certainly not.”
“Do you have some awful illness, God forbid?”
“Don’t be daft,” Linnet answered in her blunt way.
“Then why this talk of succession now? When you’re still in your thirties? It’s so silly, and—”
The first blast was so forceful Linnet and M were both thrown onto their backs. Several small paintings fell off the walls, chairs toppled, vases of flowers tipped over and rolled onto the floor. The second blast had even more force than the first, and all the windows shattered, as did every glass item in Linnet’s office.
Scrambling to their feet, staring at each other fearfully, Linnet and M ran to the door, got there just as it burst open.
Connie, looking as white as chalk, cried, “Some kind of explosion.”
Linnet simply nodded, ran past her, wrenched open the door of Connie’s office, and went out onto the floor of the store. M was close on her heels.
People were milling around; some were getting up from the floor, others remained prone. Linnet saw the first of the security men running forward, and she followed them, heading in the direction of the Bird Cage, the restaurant where there had been a problem that morning at six o’clock. All she could think was how fortunate it was she had ordered it closed for the day, and the rest of the week if necessary.
The glass windows and door that fronted the famous restaurant were shattered, smoke was billowing out, and toward the back of the first dining room Linnet could see flames shooting toward the ceiling. Ten of the store’s security men were inside, spraying foam onto the flames from fire extinguishers, and another six were handling hoses, dowsing the interior with water.
Simon Baron, head of security for the Harte stores, was already outside the Bird Cage, and he ran toward Linnet and M as they came to a standstill, his face strained, a worried expression in his eyes. Both women were out of breath, and it took them a moment to recover.
“Are you all right?” Simon asked, taking hold of Linnet’s arm solicitously, peering at her. “I was just coming to look for you.”
She nodded.
Staring at M, showing the same concern for her, Simon said, “How do you feel, M? No problems?”
“None,” she answered and added, “Probably lots of bruises, though. We were thrown to the floor by the blast; it was terribly forceful. What happened? Was there some sort of gas explosion in the kitchen?”
“We don’t know,” Simon said. “The fire brigade and the police are on the way, and we’ll only know then. But I got our own chaps onto it immediately because I was fearful this end of the floor, and the executive offices, might go up in flames.”
“Thank God you did,” Linnet exclaimed. “Good work, Simon. And how fortuitous that I decided not to open the restaurant today.”
“You told me earlier that there was a drainage problem,” Simon said, giving her a questioning look. “A bad smell in the kitchens. I know this is probably a stupid question, but are you sure it wasn’t gas leaking somewhere?”
“Absolutely. And so were the manager of the restaurant and our maintenance department. There was a blockage in the drains. A bad blockage. But fortunately the plumbers had most of the drains cleaned out by ten o’clock. However, I’d made the decision not to open at six o’clock because I knew the smell would linger.” Giving Simon a direct look, she asked carefully, pressing down on her anxiety, “Were there any plumbers working inside the restaurant when the explosion occurred?”
“No. By some stroke of luck the three plumbers who were still working in the kitchens decided to take their lunch break at eleven. There was no one inside at the time of the explosion. But some people have been injured, Linnet.”
“Harte’s employees?” she asked swiftly.
“Mostly. Unfortunately, several shoppers passing at the time were knocked down by the force of the blasts. But there are no fatalities and only minor injuries.”
“Are you telling me that no one has been seriously hurt?” Linnet asked, a look of incredulity settling on her face.
“To my knowledge, not one person is badly injured. But I do think some people will need help. There may be a few with broken bones, some people in shock, others badly bruised, that kind of thing.”
“Ambulances are on the way, I’m sure,” Linnet asserted, her gaze still lingering on Simon Baron.
“Yes, everything’s been done. We just have to wait now. Oh, lo
ok, Linnet, here are some of the firemen and the police.” Taking hold of Linnet’s arm protectively, Simon led her and M away from the smoldering restaurant, firmly guiding them toward the linen department close by. “Let’s get the professionals in there as fast as possible. I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
Linnet nodded and took hold of M’s arm, pulled her farther into the linen department. To Simon she said, “We’ll just wait here. Come and get me when you need me.”
Once they were alone, M said, “I know this is a dreadful thing to happen, Lin, but aren’t we fortunate you’d closed the restaurant? A lot of people would have been badly hurt, maybe even killed, if you’d kept it open.”
Her sister nodded. “I’ve been thinking that for the last fifteen minutes,” she said, sounding hoarse. “It’s almost a stupid thing to say, under these circumstances, but we’ve been lucky.”
Within fifteen minutes, Simon Baron came back to see Linnet, bringing with him two policemen. One was Inspector Yardley of Scotland Yard, the other Captain Gibson of the Yard’s Counter-Terrorism Command. After being introduced, Captain Gibson explained to her that two bombs had exploded in the Bird Cage, and that they suspected this was the work of terrorists.
Inspector Yardley now said, “We’ve been expecting one of the big department stores to get hit, Ms. O’Neill. All the stores are targets these days, for obvious reasons, and I’m sorry it had to be Harte’s.” He shook his head and gave her a sympathetic look as he went on, “Unfortunately, we will have to check the entire store to make certain there are no other bombs here. I’m afraid you will have to close Harte’s down. As of now.”
“I understand,” Linnet said quietly. “How long will the store have to remain closed?”
Inspector Yardley glanced at Captain Gibson. “What’s your estimate, Bill?”
The captain looked at her. “It’s a big store, Ms. O’Neill,” he said. “But we can get a few more units in here immediately, and we can work all night. And part of tomorrow morning, if that’s necessary. Today’s Wednesday. Shall we say tomorrow afternoon? Or Friday morning at the latest?”
She nodded. “Thank you, Captain Gibson, and my thanks to you, too, Inspector Yardley. Mr. Baron will give you any help you need to get the store cleared of people.”
The two policemen left, and Linnet couldn’t help thinking that she was relieved she had her own policeman in Simon Baron. She always felt safer when he was close by; her head of Harte’s security was the best in the business, trained by the unbeatable Jack Figg.
Thirty-six
She made an entrance worthy of a Hollywood movie queen, except that she wasn’t up to any of their tricks. She didn’t wear sexy or revealing clothes and piles of jewelry, nor did she flaunt herself. In fact, she was the epitome of decorum.
Tall and elegant in an impeccably cut dark blue suit, she was an eye-catching, glamorous blonde who looked twenty years younger than she actually was, and as she glided gracefully across the room, every eye was on her.
She was a legend in her own time. Pandora Gallen, one of England’s greatest actors.
Smiling and standing up as the maître d’ led her toward his table, Larry couldn’t help admiring his mother. She had that special something that could not be bought or acquired. You had to be born with it . . . charisma, star quality. Yes, she was certainly a star, acclaimed the world over. He had to take his hat off to her. She dominated this restaurant just by being in it, sucked all of the oxygen out of it.
After kissing her and getting her settled in her chair, he said, “Mother, you look absolutely gorgeous. Have you had something done? You haven’t got a line on your face.”
Pandora laughed heartily and gave her favorite child the benefit of a huge smile. “Of course I’ve had something done, lots of things. I’m an actress, remember, and I want to look good on a stage or in front of a camera. Looking good helps me to meet every day with a smile on my face and gratitude in my heart, despite this ghastly world we live in today. And since I was meeting you here at the Caprice, I went to the hairdresser’s first. After all, you never know who you’re going to run into, do you, my darling?”
“Bravo, Mum, you’re the best, and congratulations. You look simply divine.”
“Well, perhaps not quite that, Laurence. Shall we have a glass of champagne?”
“Why not, it’s a great idea.” He motioned to the waiter, ordered two glasses of pink champagne, and then turned to his mother again. “I want to ask you something, Mum, and—”
“Oh, Larry, dear heart, let’s have a drink before we discuss your father and his ridiculous accusations.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you about Dad. I wanted to know how your lunch went with M the other day. She didn’t say much when she came home, and you haven’t mentioned it either when we’ve spoken on the phone.”
“We had a nice time together; we get on very well, you know. And we understand each other perfectly. M makes everything extremely clear, speaks her mind. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite as forthright as she is, and I must admit she took my breath away several times.”
The waiter had brought their flutes of champagne, and Pandora picked up hers, raised it to her son, and said, “Here’s to you and M. Happy days.”
He touched his glass to hers, took a sip, and then stared at his mother intently. “Why did she take your breath away, Mum? Did something happen?”
“Naturally something happened, but it wasn’t anything bad.”
“But what did she do? Say? Please tell me. I don’t want there to be any ill feelings between the two of you.”
“Oh, Larry, don’t be so dramatic, there are no bad feelings between us, and she took my breath away because of her insight into this family of ours. Plus she gave me my orders, nicely, because she’s very polite, but they were presented in no uncertain terms.” Sitting back in her chair, Pandora drank her champagne, looking totally untroubled.
Yet Larry could not let it go, and he pressed, “Tell me what she said, what orders she gave you.”
Pandora smiled at him, then reached out and patted his hand. “She gave me the rules about Edward, in relationship to you. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? She absolutely does not want you to be alone with him. Not ever again. At first she said you and she could not attend any family gatherings if he was going to be there, but eventually I persuaded her to relent a little about that. However, she doesn’t want you to have any interaction with him, or sit next to him if you are at the same event. M believes he’s your enemy and that he wants to do you harm any way he can.”
“Oh.” Larry stared at his mother and grimaced. “She can be tough, especially about anything that might affect me.”
“So I realize, and aren’t I glad about that! I understand her perfectly, Larry. She loves you very much, and she’ll go for the jugular if anybody tries to hurt you.”
“Yes, she would. But banning us from family gatherings . . .” He let the sentence slide away, his dark brows drawing together in a puzzled frown.
“I told you, she relented,” Pandora murmured and added, “In any case, we don’t have many of those gatherings these days. Incidentally, she did say she thought your father had been weak in Canada, the way he had let Edward get at you. Do you think that’s true?”
“Dad was taking a battering from Edward, especially about money, but perhaps he was a bit weak-kneed when Edward was hitting on me.”
“Let me just say this, Larry. I wholeheartedly approve of M. She’s terrific, and I can rest easy knowing you have such a marvelous wife.”
“So all is well between the two of you?”
“It is indeed.” All of a sudden Pandora began to laugh, shaking her head. After a moment she said, “She adores Portia but thinks she fusses too much about little Desi, is overprotective of her. And she believes it’s time Horatio gets married before he becomes too set in his ways, turns into a grumpy old bachelor.” His mother shook her head again, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I to
ld you she was forthright.”
“She certainly is. And you didn’t mind?”
“No, I didn’t. I thought it was refreshing that she spoke her mind so openly, and actually, she does happen to be right about everything she said. I know your father can be very weak-kneed at times, and Edward is a bad penny. And she certainly put her finger on the problems Portia has, and Horatio, too, if the truth be known. So again, congratulations, you’ve got yourself a winner for a wife, my darling.” Picking up the menu, Pandora glanced at it, looked across at her son, and said, “I’m going to have asparagus first, and then that marvelous fish cake they do here, with chips, of course.”
He grinned. “I’ll have the same, and Mum, I just want to say this, I’m thrilled you like M.”
“Like? That’s too puny a word to use, my darling boy. I love her. And I might add I think her parents are lovely, especially her father. My goodness, what a handsome man Shane O’Neill is. If only I were a few years younger . . .”
He gaped at her and said, “Really, Mother.”
“I’m just joking, Larry, just joking.”
Once they had ordered lunch, Larry stared at his mother and said, “Well, you did promise to explain about all the rows with Dad. So go on.”
Pandora was silent, not wanting to discuss this matter, but she grew uncomfortable under her son’s fixed scrutiny, accepted that she had no alternative but to explain.
The asparagus vinaigrette was served, and Pandora started to eat immediately. Larry did the same. He knew she did not eat much for breakfast, just a slice of toast and coffee, so she genuinely enjoyed lunch. It was her favorite meal, dinner being a nuisance for her, especially when she was working in the theater.
He was very attuned to Pandora, had been all his life, and he knew better than to probe further now. It would be better to wait until after their main course to discuss her problems with his father. Larry very much doubted Edward’s story about his mother being involved with another man. His brother was a troublemaker; he had been since they were children and had only grown worse as he had grown older. Larry was relieved his brother was back in Los Angeles and not floating around London causing havoc everywhere he went.