Proposition (2 page)

Amy stood up slowly, her posture stiff. She allowed Claire to kiss her effusively on both cheeks. Her stepmother was so much taller than Amy that she had to bend down to do that.

“Hello, Claire,” Amy said coolly, giving Amy a critical look. Amy was just a few years younger than Claire.

Claire Carpenter, the second wife of her father, had guts, Amy admitted. First, she hadn’t even taken the trouble to show up at the hospital until a good few hours after her husband had been taken there. She’d informed Amy she’d had a waxing appointment at the spa. Amy hadn’t even known how to react to this ridiculous explanation at the time when Claire had presented it to her, with all seriousness and a straight face.

And now, when her husband was recovering from the heart attack, she looked as if she’d just returned from the hairdresser’s and manicurist. Amy glared at the unbelievably long, surely artificial nails of Claire’s, additionally decorated with tiny, diamond like crystals. She was about to make a biting remark, but resisted. Father was most important now and he’d always wanted her to be friends with his second wife, something which Amy knew would never happen. She could tolerate Claire—barely tolerate her, to tell the truth, but nothing more.

“Claire, I’d like to hear your opinion on one matter,” she said diplomatically in a firm voice.

Claire glanced at her with obvious surprise, but answered promptly. “Yes?”

“You do remember the doctor advised dad make a complete change of lifestyle, and preferably take a long holiday?” Amy asked. Claire nodded eagerly. “Can you imagine that he refuses to do that? Don’t you think that our responsibility as his closest family is to convince him that he must start taking better care of himself?”

Claire stared at her, not blinking for a moment or two. “Yes, yes, of course,” she mumbled at last. “Of course.”

Amy nodded with satisfaction. “I was trying to convince dad that both of you should leave town for some time,” she said and gave Claire a pointed look. “He needs his rest away from all the problems. I hope you will help me to convince him. The doctor suggested some seaside resort.”

“It sounds great!” Claire’s eyes sparkled and there was little doubt that she was obviously delighted with the idea. “Won’t you agree, darling?” Claire minced on her five inch heels to her husband, bent down, and kissed him on the cheek. “Perhaps New England?” she cooed. “It’s not that hot like Florida is this time of the year.”

Amy walked to the other side of the rattan chair in which her father was cocooned. “I think that’s a very good choice, Daddy. Claire is right that too hot a place won’t be good for you now.”

Thomas sighed in surrender. His warm eyes looked from his wife to his daughter. “I have no other choice I see, both of my women against me,” he said. He took one of each of our hands in his and squeezed them.

“I think that you should go as soon as possible,” Amy advocated, relieved that her father didn’t oppose too much. “Claire, could you see to the arrangements?”

Her stepmother opened her pink painted lips and her forehead frowned.

Amy took pity on her. “I meant that you could perhaps look for the right place to rent for a few weeks at least. Or perhaps some nice quiet hotel? I think that a hotel would be even nicer. What do you think Daddy?”

“Of course. I’ll take care of everything,” Claire said with a very important look written all over her dull face.

Soon Claire tiptoed to the back of house to call the travel agency. The wind blew harder and Amy leaned over her father.

“Daddy, it’s getting cold. Let’s go inside,” she remarked as she wrapped the blanket covering him. To her surprise, he caught her hand and pulled her strongly to him. She leaned over to hear him.

“What’s the matter Daddy?” she asked.

“There’s a way to rescue the company,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “But you would have to go and ask him.”

Amy frowned. “Ask who, Daddy?”

“Jake Barry.”

Amy frowned. “Jake Barry... but why? He’s got his own business now. He stopped working for you many years ago.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Thomas didn’t let go of her hand and whispered quickly. “Yes, but he’s very well to do now. His building company is perhaps the biggest in town, possibly in the state, and he’s got other businesses as well, other investments. If he agrees to invest in Carpenter & Sons, the company can still be rescued. People will keep their jobs. Will you ask him? Reynolds will help you from the business side. He’ll prepare all the papers.”

Amy stared at her father. Why on earth did her father believe Jake Barry, of all people, to be the only person who could rescue the company? He hadn’t been around for years, had he? Perhaps Dad had been seeing him after Jake left the company and started working on his own, but she simply wasn’t aware of that. She remembered that dad and Jake had always seemed to understand one another. Presuming they still were in contact, why didn’t her dad contact Jake himself? Amy was pretty sure that Jake Barry wouldn’t have refused to help, or at least he would have given some advice, or perhaps helped to convince the banks to wait with the payments.

She frowned as she recalled Jake Barry appearing at the opening of the new wing of the library, designed especially for the children from the poorest families as a kind of after school center. There they could spend time in the afternoons and do their homework. He’d been one of the sponsors, and if she was correct, the main initiator of it, as well. But he’d barely exchanged a few words with her back then, though he’d seemed to look at her often. Since that time, they hadn’t talked at all, and it’d been almost a year ago. She’d seen him several times in her favorite coffeehouse near the library. She’d even acknowledged him with a polite smile and a nod of her head, but he hadn’t tried to initiate conversation. She certainly was not the type of person to make the first move, simply being too shy and having perhaps too much personal dignity.

When she thought now of those unexpected encounters, it struck her how rather strange they’d been. She knew that his office was located in a completely different part of town, so it was rather unusual for him to have his coffee more than half an hour drive away from it. There was always a possibility that he’d had some client nearby.

“But Daddy, I barely know him,” she tried to reason. “He’s rather a good friend of yours, not mine.”

But Thomas stared at her with a serious, half pleading, half determined expression in his eyes. He clenched her hand in his. “Please, daughter, he won’t refuse you.”

Amy’s eyes widened in surprise, her confusion even greater, but seeing how important it was to him, she said gently. “Of course, Daddy, I’ll do as you ask. I’ll talk about the whole matter with Mr. Reynolds, and then try to get an appointment with Jake Barry. “

Thomas pulled at her hand and whispered, “Promise?”

“I promise,” she vowed solemnly. She let out a breath of relief when she noticed him relax at last.

They didn’t have the opportunity to talk more about this as Claire returned. She informed them proudly that she had found a small hotel on Cape Elizabeth. As it was September and after the season, there were fewer guests, so they could go there as soon as tomorrow.

Chapter Two

When Amy returned home, she couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s strange request and his unusual behavior. It was all so very odd. She truly didn’t understand why her father thought that only she, of all people, should ask Jake Barry to invest in Carpenter & Sons. She really didn’t believe that she could talk her father’s former employee into anything. But she’d given her word, and she wasn’t going to go back on it.

She was telling herself repeatedly that it wasn’t a big deal, and that she’d gladly do that for her father’s peace of mind, but it didn’t help at all to ease her apprehension. She had reasons to believe that Jake Barry wouldn’t be willing to help them, especially, if she was the one to ask him.

The following day Amy had the meeting with Mr. Reynolds, the accountant. The man didn’t seem to be very surprised with her father’s idea that Jake Barry could invest in Carpenters & Sons. In less than two hours, he had all the necessary documents about the state of the company prepared for her, the very last sales figures, all the information about the production process, and the company’s debt. He noted at the same time that Jake Barry had probably already known most of it.

Yet the same day, not to lose her courage, she phoned Barry Construction. She gave her name and asked for an appointment with Mr. Barry, as soon as possible. The assistant informed her with an irritating superiority in her voice that it would be very hard to arrange the meeting this week. Mr. Barry’s schedule was full. Amy swallowed her pride, and said that the matter was important, and she would be very be grateful for the opportunity to see him this week despite his very busy schedule. The assistant took Amy’s phone number, and promised to call back soon, but at the same time, she made a point that she couldn’t promise anything.

Her mobile rang the next day when she’d just driven her father and Claire to the airport. Judging by the voice, the woman who phoned her was older than the one she’d talked with before. She introduced herself as Marcia, Mr. Barry’s personal assistant. Amy was informed that quite unexpectedly Mr. Barry had a free afternoon today and he would expect her at two pm. She was rather surprised to get an appointment so quickly. Over the last years, she’d heard the name of Jake Barry quite often, among the most affluent entrepreneurs in town, and even in the entire state. She imagined that such an important CEO should be rather difficult to access.

It was already a few minutes after twelve when she received the call from Jake Barry’s assistant. If she was to be there at two sharp there was really little time to return to her apartment, to change into something more suitable than jeans and the casual sweatshirt she wore. The traffic was heavy that day and with her rather pitiful driving skills, it took her over an hour to get to her place.

She changed quickly into a pair of elegant, grey slacks and a white lacy blouse. She decided it would be safer to take a taxi to be sure not to be late. As a rule, Amy didn’t drive herself, unless there was absolutely no other way. Her father had repeated to her countless times that she would never be a good and confident driver unless she stopped avoiding driving whenever she could. She knew that he was right, but she despised the activity. She’d remembered the driving exam as one of the worst experiences of her teenage life. She’d failed it five times in a row, and that was, in her view, the utmost humiliation for someone who’d got straight A’s all her life.

  She had a problem pinning up her long hair, as her hands shook rather badly. Frustrated with the thick mass of her wavy, long hair that didn’t want to cooperate today of all
days, she made a mental note to make an appointment with her hairdresser and cut it shorter. Much shorter.

She checked her watch. It was already twenty to one! In a gesture of desperation, she removed all the pins and pulled her hair back into a simple sleek ponytail. That will have to do, she decided as she glanced critically at her own reflection in the mirror. Asking herself why she was so nervous, she remembered one evening almost seven years ago.

It hadn’t been a good time for her back then. She’d taken college very seriously and studied a lot. She’d wanted to have good grades, and make her father proud. But just around that time Dad had started dating Claire, and they’d discovered that Peter had started to drink too much and take drugs, though he’d been only in high school. Jake Barry didn’t work for her father anymore, at that time, being busy with opening a business of his own. He’d been a frequent guest at their home, and she’d remembered preparing dinner for him and Dad a few times.

One day Jake had come to their home in the early evening and completely out of the blue, asked her to go out with him. He’d invited her to dinner and a concert. Her father had been out on a date with Claire so they’d been alone. Peter, as usual, was hanging out with his friends. Without a second thought, she’d refused him. She hadn’t been in the mood for dating, and somehow she’d felt that Jake Barry meant business. He’d been a grown man, and she’d been sheltered and pampered by her father, with no real experience in dating. She’d gone out rarely and those had been most often polite, clumsy, bookish boys much like herself.

The truth was that she’d always been intimidated by Jake Barry. He’d always been so confident, and sure of himself, not to mention some eight years older than she. She’d seriously doubted whether they could have any topic for conversation. In her eyes he’d been a mature man and, apart from the fact that she couldn’t understand why he’d wanted to go out with her in the first place, she’d felt out of his league.

Jake hadn’t tried to ask her ever again. After that, he hadn’t talked to her much, either. Then her father married Claire, and Amy moved out and started living on her own, and hadn’t seen Jake at all.

As she judged her own reflection in the mirror, she concluded that she looked appropriate for the occasion, neat, elegant, and respectable. She forced a smile on her face. Surely, Jake had forgotten that small incident a long time ago. He couldn’t possibly hold a grudge against her, a nineteen-year-old at the time, for declining his offer of a date. Chances were he likely didn’t remember the incident.

She had to calm down. It was only a meeting for heaven’s sake; she silently scolded herself, feeling her stomach roll. In truth, she was more than sure that he wouldn’t agree to help them. She was doing this only for her father’s peace of mind. That was all.

It was nearly two forty-five when she entered the building of Barry Contractors. It looked very impressive. It was one of the tallest buildings in town, built in the last year or two. She received the plaque card with her name at the reception desk, and was directed to the tenth floor. A middle-aged, elegant woman, dressed entirely in grey, waited for her when she got off the elevator. As she listened to her voice, Amy recognized that it was the assistant she’d talked to earlier today. The woman walked her to one of the doors, opened it without knocking, and led her inside.

“Mr. Barry, Miss Carpenter is here,” she introduced her, and disappeared quickly and quietly, closing the door after herself.

Amy looked around the spacious, imposing room. The space appeared somber, even a bit depressing, certainly the work of some fashionable interior designer from Chicago or some other big city; brown wood, glass and concrete, dark leather couches and armchairs.

“Don’t you like it here, Amy?”

She startled and her hand went to her chest, when she heard a deep familiar voice. “You have very expressive features, you know that?”

It was only then she noticed him. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“No, not at all. It is very impressive,” she assured politely as she stuck out her right hand.

“But not quite your taste,” he stated.

He took her hand in his larger one. His grip on her fingers was very gentle, almost tentative.

“It’s very nice of you to agree to see me so quickly,” she said in one breath.

He kept her hand in his, but didn’t shake it, just held it.

“I’m so sorry about what happened to your father.” He didn’t release her hand, despite her delicate attempts to free it. “How is he?”

Amy forced herself to lift her eyes to his. She’d forgotten how tall he was, well perhaps he wasn’t that tall, not like a basketball player or anything, but compared to her 5' 2", he towered over her. She should have worn higher heels, not just every day pumps. She would feel more sure of herself now with a few additional inches of height.

“I think he should be better soon.” She attempted a cool composed smile, but was too agitated to form one, and she twitched her lips nervously. “I’d driven him and his wife to the airport just before your assistant called.”

She stared down at her hand still imprisoned in his. Had he forgotten that he held it still?

“They’ve gone on a long holiday?” he more stated than asked.

He let go of her hand at last and motioned her to the chair. Amy sat with relief, then rubbed the hand, which he’d held, against her trousers to get rid of the tingling sensation from the touch of his hand. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that.

Jake sat behind his large desk and his dark blue eyes rested on her. She gave him a wan smile, and held his gaze shyly. He had changed. He looked elegant, mature and prominent, worldly and sophisticated, too. Gone were his disobedient curls, jeans, and checked flannel shirts he’d worn years ago. His dark hair was neatly plastered to his head, and shorter than she remembered. His shoulders seemed to be broader, but it could be because of the cut of his suit. And he wasn’t so skinny like years ago.

“Yes, to Maine. Doctor advised a few weeks stay at the seaside,” she explained.

She fought not to avert her eyes from his face. He was so intimidating now, much more than when he’d still worked for her father and come to their house.

He didn’t say anything more and she tried to gather her courage to speak up. She counted to ten, took a deep breath, and started.

“I asked you for this meeting because I have a business proposition for you,” she managed smoothly.

“You?” He cocked his brow. “I thought you turned out to be a librarian. What business proposition can you have for me?”

She blushed in anger and irritation at his tone. He sounded patronizing and condescending about her job. She hated when people implied that she was ‘wasting
herself’ in her job. She was very sensitive about this and found it rude when she thought that others seemed to accuse her of not choosing a so-called high profile career.

“I am a librarian,” she said with dignity, lifting her chin up. “But today I act on behalf of my father.”

“I thought your brother was responsible for such things in your family,” he noted dryly.

Her fingers clenched together on her lap, but she managed to answer calmly, though quietly. “Not anymore.”

“I see.” He took a pen from the desk and twirled it between his fingers. “What’s the proposition?”

“I suspect you must have heard about the critical situation of my father’s company.” She looked at him for some confirmation but his expression was unreadable. She cleared her throat and started the speech, which she’d practiced on her way to his office.

“Our chief accountant—perhaps you remember him—Mr. Reynolds prepared these documents for you.” She took some files out of her large bag. She put them in front of him.

He took one of them, but didn’t open it. He kept staring at her. “Summing up, the company your grandfather founded has been in trouble for many months, but your brother literally brought it to the verge of bankruptcy, stealing the money loaned from the bank. The money, which as I understand, your father planned to spend for modernization and a new advertisement campaign.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes lowered. All she wanted to do now was to stand up, walk out, and slam the door behind her. But she restrained herself. It was her father who was most important now. She would bear this man’s insulting, even if true, remarks.

“I still think that investing in the company could turn quite profitable for you,” she said, repeating what Mr. Reynolds had told her. “The custom-made furniture we make still sells well, not only here in the States, but in Canada and even in Europe. There’s much demand for the handicraft these days,” she continued, focusing hard to control the tone of her voice. “I believe that it could be very profitable for you over time. Besides you would rescue numerous jobs and the place is important for the history of our town,” she finished smoothly.

She glanced at him quickly to realize that he hadn’t even looked at the file Mr. Reynolds prepared for him. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move, all he did was stare at her.

Finally, she courageously met his eyes.

“What do you think?” she asked at last, her throat dry.

He nodded his dark head slowly. “That is an interesting proposition. Your father is a decent man. I owe him a lot. I have means to rescue Carpenter & Sons.”

Her face brightened in relief, and she opened her mouth to thank him, but he stopped her with the gesture of his hand.

“There’s one condition.”

“What condition?”

He stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of her. “I want something in exchange,” he said as he looked down at her.

She stared at him with a frown. He reached his hand and tucked the single strand of hair behind her ear, which had escaped the clip.