Chapter 35
35
THE CRYSTALLINE HOTEL, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
‘Uncle Dean thinks you aren’t talking to him,’ Angel whispered.
They were stood in the lobby of the most impressive hotel Hayley had ever been in, waiting for Cynthia to arrive. The carpet was gold-flecked and the chandeliers threw out shapes of light that bounced off the walls. The green of the Christmas tree was completely over-embellished with blingy ornaments and lights that faded in and out to carol songs.
‘Why would he think that?’ Hayley responded.
‘Because the only words you said to him over breakfast were “we’re out of bagels”.’
‘We are out of bagels.’
‘Are you fighting because I told him about Majestic Cleaning?’ Angel asked, her eyes wide.
‘No of course not.’
‘I’m sorry I told Uncle Dean,’ Angel said, her eyes moistening.
‘It isn’t your fault, Angel. Let’s just forget it. I’ll calm down, he’ll calm down and someday soon, we’ll be back to sharing tales of Vernon’s cooking. ’
‘Someday soon? They say that in books when it’s going to be a really, really long time.’
‘It won’t be that long.’ Hayley checked her watch.
‘Is it likely to be more “shortly” or more “soon”?’
Her mobile began to ring and she swung her rucksack off her shoulder, unzipping it. She located her phone and looked at the number. It wasn’t recognised. Perhaps it was a lead on Michel.
‘Hello.’
‘Good morning, Lois.’
Oliver’s voice had her toes curling and her cheeks heating up in appreciation. She turned her body away from Angel in case she read the body language. ‘Good morning, Clark.’
‘So, I remembered your number.’
‘It seems so.’
‘And I’m hoping you’re still free tonight.’
‘I have to admit, Dean has excellent cable channels.’
She could tell he was smiling.
‘Then he should also have a DVR.’
Now she was smiling. ‘What time will I need to be setting it?’
‘I’ll pick you up at 7.30.’
‘And what should I wear? Formal? Casual?’
‘Cute sleepwear?’
‘That’s funny, Clark.’ She looked to Angel, who was now paying her all her attention. She didn’t want to let on this was a date. Her daughter had enough going on. ‘I’ll dress for business.’
‘My imagination is running wild.’
‘Cynthia’s here!’ Angel announced, jumping up.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Hayley spoke quickly. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She ended the call, dropping her mobile phone into her backpack. She brushed her hands down her front. She’d dressed to impress this morning. She’d cobbled together a pair of smart, black jeans, her boots, a cream chemise and a red jumper she’d cut up the middle to create a makeshift jacket. She’d spent the early hours of the morning sewing it into place when she hadn’t been able to sleep.
‘Good morning, how are we today?’ Cynthia greeted, holding her hand out first to Angel and then to Hayley.
The woman looked immaculate in a grey two-piece suit, her hair and make-up as perfect as ever.
‘We’re really well. How are you?’ Hayley answered.
‘A little flustered I have to say but…’ She paused. ‘I’m really looking forward to showing you this room. Shall we?’
Cynthia held out her hand and ushered them into the main body of the hotel. Hayley looked back, taking a moment, her eyes roving over the immaculate décor of the lobby again. This function, like the hotel, was going to have to be perfection. Just what had she taken on?
Drummond Global Offices, Downtown Manhattan
Andrew Regis had done it. The interview was on Oliver’s desk in front of him. The man had told the world the merger between the two companies wasn’t going ahead because of Oliver’s reluctance to embrace the future. He’d called him a control freak and a megalomaniac. He said he had none of his father’s belief in mutual support creating stronger foundations. And Andrew had formally announced his personal relationship with Cynthia. His mother must have known this was on the cards and she hadn’t told him. That stung more than the article itself.
‘Oliver.’ Clara’s voice invaded his consciousness. He looked up to see his personal assistant still sat in her chair opposite his desk. How long had he been staring at the words? He didn’t even remember the last thing Clara had asked him .
‘Yes,’ he said in reply.
‘Shall I order some coffee?’ she offered.
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m good.’
She tutted out a noise and reached for the magazine article. ‘I never liked that man. I know he was your father’s best friend but, I don’t know, I never really trusted him. There’s something about his eyes.’
‘My mother obviously thinks very highly of him.’
‘But not after this, surely!’
‘Why not?’ Oliver asked. He reached for the stress baseball.
‘Because none of this is true.’ Clara shook the magazine.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No, Oliver.’
‘So I’m not power-crazed?’
‘No.’
‘A control freak?’
‘That one maybe a little.’
‘Not a team player.’
‘We all have certain strengths and weaknesses.’
‘You should have been a politician, Clara.’ He stood, the force of his movement sending his chair shooting backwards to hit the wall. He paced towards the windows, looking out at the skyline.
‘You know why he’s done this,’ Clara said.
‘To belittle me? To undermine my decision in public so the whole board question it? To discredit Drummond Global?’
‘No. This isn’t a man who’s acted with his business head on. This is him bitch-slapping you for not welcoming him into the family with open arms. This is all to do with Cynthia. It’s personal. He feels threatened.’
‘Did you just say “bitch-slap”?’ Oliver turned back to face her.
‘I believe I did. I apologise. ’
‘No, don’t apologise.’ He took a breath. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘I really don’t trust the man,’ Clara said. ‘Something about all this doesn’t add up.’
‘Which bit?’
Clara adjusted her body in the chair. ‘Can I speak freely?’
‘Of course, Clara.’
‘Well, the merger from the beginning was always driven by the relationship he had with your father. Yes, they were friends, for a very long time, but I can’t help thinking that there was a reason your father never went into business with Andrew Regis in the first place.’
‘I have thought about that, Clara. I assumed, initially, when they were both starting out, they were working towards different goals, maybe sparking off the rivalry a little.’
‘Regis Software has nothing like the contracts Drummond Global has.’
‘I know that. But they have expertise in areas we haven’t broken into.’
‘And why hasn’t Drummond Global broken into those areas?’
‘Because we’ve been focused elsewhere.’
‘Maybe. But like I said, I don’t trust the man.’ She shook her head. ‘And this relationship with Cynthia… what’s his play there?’
‘You don’t think it’s genuine.’
‘Your mother is a very powerful woman on the board here.’
‘You think he wants that power.’
‘I’m not going to say that outright but I would just keep your mind open to all possibilities where Andrew is concerned.’
Oliver gritted his teeth. The thought of Andrew Regis having dishonourable intentions towards his mother made his blood boil more than thinking he had honourable intentions towards her. He still hadn’t heard anything from Daniel Pearson. If there was dirt to be found, Daniel would find it. Perhaps there was nothing there. Maybe Andrew’s motivations in all areas were genuine.
‘What do I do about this?’ Oliver asked, indicating the magazine Clara was still holding.
‘You could call Delaney and get her to manage it with a retort in their rival’s edition tomorrow.’
‘But you wouldn’t do that?’
‘No. I’d play Mr Nice. I’d invite Andrew and your mother out to dinner, congratulate them on their relationship, see how the land lies and try and get a feel for what he’s up to.’ She threw the magazine down onto the desk. ‘You know what they say about friends and enemies.’
Oliver nodded. ‘Yes.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Yes, I do.’
The Crystalline Hotel, Downtown Manhattan
‘It’s gorgeous! I can’t keep my eyes off of it!’
Angel had been squeaking with excitement since the second Cynthia had opened the doors into the Crystalline’s ballroom. The room had an arched ceiling with diamantes embedded in every inch of the plaster. Light streamed in from the Art Deco windows and when the many spotlights connected with the tiny sparkles they produced pinpricks of light on the mellow duck-egg blue walls and the vintage parquet floor.
‘What do you think?’ Cynthia had addressed Hayley and she turned to the woman, her eyes alive.
‘I think it’s a beautiful setting.’ She swallowed. ‘My mind’s buzzing with ideas to make it even more perfect.’
‘I knew it would be,’ Cynthia said, smiling.
‘Did you know that Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers once danced here,’ Angel announced, twirling around on the dance floor, her arms in the air, one leg cocked at an angle.
‘Did they really?’ Cynthia asked, clapping her hands together and looking delighted.
‘You’ll have to excuse my daughter; she’s a bit of a walking encyclopaedia,’ Hayley said, unzipping her rucksack and getting out a notebook.
‘I think she’s a doll.’ Cynthia sighed. ‘I longed for a daughter but it wasn’t to be.’
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, she’s not even ten yet and she already raids my wardrobe. So…’ She looked up from her pad. ‘How do you usually have the setting arrangements? Round tables? Long ones?’
‘Usually round. Businesses tend to buy a whole table or two.’
‘And they would sit all together?’ Hayley asked, writing notes.
‘What do you mean?’
Hayley looked up again. ‘Well, if they all sit together that would mean that every year, they sit next to the very same people, all from their own companies.’
‘That’s usually what happens.’
‘It isn’t very good for talking to other businesses though, is it? I mean, as well as the charitable cause, this is a great networking opportunity, a social gathering. I’d want to talk to people I don’t know yet, meet some new friends.’
Cynthia put her hands to her mouth, her eyes growing bigger as she looked at Hayley.
‘Have I said something really stupid? Because I can retract it and just go back to thinking how we can decorate this place.’
Cynthia shook her head. ‘No, you’re absolutely right. Why has no one ever thought of that before? We don’t want people being insular all night; we want interaction and cooperation, making new acquaintances. We can sell tables but we can mix up who sits where. Can we make a note?’ Cynthia asked, striding into the centre of the floor where Angel was still dancing.
Hayley scribbled as she followed Cynthia. She also made a note about getting drapes around the windows, creating a more intimate setting without making it feel small. The room had a presence all of its own. She was going to ensure any enhancements she made were in keeping with the era of the building but definitely noticeable. It was going to be classic and classy. The platinum and gold could definitely work.
‘So, do you have a speaker all lined up?’
‘You should get someone really cool like Michelle Obama or maybe Miley Cyrus. She’s interesting,’ Angel said.
‘Shall I write down “wrecking ball” as well as “glitter ball”?’ Hayley shook her head at Angel.
‘I was hoping Oliver would speak this year,’ Cynthia stated.
Hayley swallowed. She wanted to shut her ears. If she didn’t hear anything, it wouldn’t influence the other area of her life she was keeping separate from this one. She started to hum ‘Stop The Cavalry’ in her head.
‘Is he too busy?’ Angel asked.
‘He says he is, but I know it isn’t that.’
‘What is it then?’ Angel asked again.
It was no good. She could hear everything. She shot Angel a warning look.
Cynthia sighed. ‘As much as Oliver supports the foundation, I know he hates it in equal measure. He didn’t deal with the death of his brother or his father very well and he hates to be reminded of it.’
‘My nanny hates to be reminded how old she is,’ Angel said. ‘She also hates being reminded that she started using Oil of Olay when it was called Oil of Ulay.’
‘How do you know that?’ Hayley asked .
‘You were the one that told me!’
‘I didn’t expect you to remember.’
‘Do you know me at all?’
Cynthia burst out laughing. ‘You two are hysterical. If I don’t find another speaker, I think you should do a comedic double act. Right, shall we meet the chef? See what suggestions he has for the catering?’
‘Yes, let’s talk cuisine instead of complexion,’ Hayley agreed, glaring at Angel.