To Be the Best (17 page)

But Fiona would have none of it, since it had been a long-cherished dream of hers that Madelana attend college. She knew by this time that she was suffering from cancer, as did Joe, but they scrupulously kept this devastating news from their daughter.

However, four years later, towards the end, Fiona became so debilitated it was no longer possible to hide the medical facts from Maddy, who struggled through her last few months at Loyola fighting despair and endeavouring to hold sorrow at arm’s length. The only thing that kept her going during this excruciatingly painful time was the determination not to let her mother down.

Fiona lived long enough to see Maddy graduate with a bachelor’s degree in Business Administration in the summer of 1976. She died two months later.

‘Kerry Anne’s going was the last nail in your mommy’s coffin,’ Joe kept saying all through the winter of that year, until the words began to sound like a dreadful litany to her.

Or he would sit and stare at Maddy, then ask, with tears welling in his eyes, ‘Wasn’t one son enough to give to my country? Why did Lonnie have to get massacred too? For what?’ And before she could say anything in response, he would add with anger and bitterness: ‘For
nothing,
that’s what, Maddy. Young Joe and Lonnie both died for
nothing.’

Madelana would take his hand and try to comfort him the best way she could, whenever he talked like this, but she never had any answers for her father, and certainly she had none for herself either. Like the majority of Americans, she had scant understanding of the war they were fighting in Vietnam.

After graduating from Loyola, Madelana had found herself a job in the offices of Shilito’s department store in Lexington.

Despite her hoydenish ways and lack of interest in feminine things as a child, she had fallen in love with clothes in her late teens, and had recognized that she had a great deal of flair when it came to fashion. Retailing attracted her, and when she had been attending college she had decided she wanted to carve out a career for herself in this field.

Madelana’s job in the marketing department at Shilito’s had proved to be challenging, and she had found it both stimulating and absorbing as well. She had thrown herself into the work, and divided her time between the store and the family home, where she had continued to live with her father.

Joe had begun to worry her considerably in the early part of 1977, for he had grown more morose than ever and apathetic since her mother’s death, and, unlike her mother, he seemed unable to draw solace from his religion. He still continued to mutter to Maddy that his sons had died in vain, and she would frequently find him staring at their photographs on the mantelpiece in the living room, his eyes filled with hurt and bafflement, his face grown painfully thin, and ravaged by emotional suffering.

Maddy’s heart ached for him, and she did everything possible in her power to take him out of himself, to cheer him, to give him a reason to go on living, but it was to no avail.

By the spring of that year, Joe O’Shea had become a shadow of the handsome, outgoing, jocular man he had once been, and when he died suddenly of a heart attack in May, Maddy realized, in the midst of her searing grief, that she was not really so surprised. It was as if he had willed himself to die, as if he had desperately wanted to join Fiona in the grave.

Once she had buried her father, Madelana had begun to sort out and settle his business affairs. He had left everything neat and orderly, and so this task was relatively easy for her to do.

His small construction company had been in the black for a number of years, and she was able to sell the equipment, the materials and the ‘goodwill’ to Pete Andrews, who had been her father’s right-hand man and wanted to keep the business going for himself and the handful of old employees. And though it was wrenching for her, she had also sold the house where she had grown up, along with most of her mother’s furniture, and moved into an apartment in Lexington.

It was not very long after this that she had started to understand just how difficult living in Lexington was going to be for her from now on. As much as her beloved bluegrass country was part of her, in her blood, each day grew increasingly painful. Wherever she went, wherever she looked, she saw their faces…her parents, Kerry Anne, Young Joe and Lonnie. She yearned for them and for the past, and for the way things once were.

Her father’s passing had opened up her old grief for the others who had died before him.

She knew she had to get away. Perhaps she could come back one day in the future and rejoice in the past. But now she had to put distance between herself and this place. The heartbreak was too fresh, too potent in her, and her emotions were far too near the surface for her to draw any kind of solace from the memories of her family at this particular moment.

Only through the passing of time would her pain lessen, and only then would she be able to draw a measure of comfort from her remembrances, and find peace in them.

And so Madelana made the decision to move to the North, to go to New York City, to start a whole new life.

She was very brave.

She had no job, knew no one, had no contacts, but at least she had a roof over her head when she arrived in Manhattan. This had already been arranged for her before she had left Lexington.

The Sisters of Divine Providence, a teaching order of nuns from Kentucky, and one of the first such orders to be founded in America, maintained a residency in New York. Rooms could be rented at a nominal charge, and were available to Catholic girls and young women from all over the world.

And it was to this residency, the Jeanne D’Arc, that Maddy went in October of 1977.

Within a week of her arrival at West Twenty-Fourth Street she had settled in, and was beginning to get her bearings.

The sisters were warm and helpful, the girls friendly, and the residency itself was pleasant, convenient, and well run. It had five floors of rooms, with showers and bathrooms on each floor. There was a small but rather beautiful chapel, where the young residents and the sisters could pray or meditate, and close by were the common rooms – a library and a television-parlour. Other facilities included a kitchen and a canteen in the basement, for the cooking and serving of meals, plus a laundry room, and lockers for the storage of personal belongings.

One of the first things Maddy had done was to put her nest-egg of forty thousand dollars in the bank, opening both current and saving accounts. After this she had had her own phone installed in her room on the fourth floor. Patsy Smith, who lived across the corridor from her, had recommended that she do so, explaining that it would simplify her life, make it much easier.

She had then gone looking for a job.

Ever since she had decided to make a career for herself in retailing, Maddy’s role model had been the late Emma Harte, one of the greatest merchant princes of all time, in her opinion. In the past few years she had read everything about the renowned Emma that she could lay her hands on, and Harte’s in New York was the only store where she wanted to work. But she quickly discovered there were no vacancies when she went for an interview. The personnel manager had been impressed with her, however, and had promised to be in touch if something suitable came up. Her résumé and application had been duly filed for future reference.

By the end of her third week in the city, Maddy had managed to find employment in the business offices of Saks Fifth Avenue.

Exactly one year later there was finally an opening at
Harte’s and she had grabbed it immediately, filled with enthusiasm at the opportunity to work there, and within six months she had made her mark.

And she had come to the attention of Paula O’Neill.

Paula had spotted her in the marketing department, had been struck by her great personal style, pleasant demeanour, efficiency, and vivid intelligence. Thereafter, Paula had constantly singled her out, given her a variety of special assignments, and had ultimately moved her to work in the executive offices. A year after this, in July of 1980, Paula had promoted Maddy to be her personal assistant, in effect, actually creating this job for her.

With this big promotion and a sizeable increase in salary, Madelana had at last felt reasonably secure enough to look for her own apartment. She had found one she liked in the Upper East Eighties, and had had her furniture and other possessions shipped up from the storage warehouse in Kentucky. And she had finally left the residency, feeling a little pang as she had said goodbye to Sister Bronagh and Sister Mairéad.

The first meal she had cooked at the new apartment had been for Jack and Patsy one Sunday night, just before Patsy had gone back to Boston to live.

It had been a lovely evening, very celebratory, and Jack had kept them amused and laughing. But she and Patsy had grown a bit sad towards the end, knowing they would be living in different cities soon. They had promised faithfully not to grow apart, to stay in touch, and they had corresponded on a fairly regular basis ever since.

With her new promotion, Madelana’s life had changed in other ways, and a whole new world had been opened up to her. Paula had brought her over to London so that she would understand the inner workings of the famed Knightsbridge store, and she had visited the Harte stores in Yorkshire and Paris. And twice Paula had taken her to Texas, although this had been on Sitex business rather than Harte’s. She had
discovered how much she enjoyed travelling, going to new places, and meeting new people.

Her first year as Paula’s assistant had fled by, filled with excitement, challenges and continuing successes, and very quickly Maddy had begun to recognize that she had found her niche in life. It was at Harte’s of New York, where she was a star.

Playing some of her favourite old folk songs had soothed Madelana. She was feeling at ease with herself at last.

Earlier in the evening, she had half-expected Jack Miller to call her back, had been dreading that he would. But he had not. Now, at last, she was filled with a peacefulness, and she was completely calm. She got up, put the guitar to one side, and went over to the desk near the window.

The files she had brought home with her from the store were stacked and waiting for her attention. She sat down, glanced at the clock, saw that it was almost midnight. But that did not matter to her. She was wide awake and full of energy. Stamina had always been one of her strong suits, and she knew she could complete the work quite easily within two or three hours.

Picking up her pen, she sat back in the chair, staring at the wall, thinking for a moment.

The needlepoint sampler which hung there, and which her mother had made for her when she had been a little girl, suddenly held her attention. It had hung above her bed in her room in Lexington, and it was one of the things she had brought with her when she had first moved to New York.

‘If your day is hemmed with prayer it is less likely to unravel’
her mother had stitched in royal blue wool against the beige background, and she had bordered the sampler with tiny flowers in brilliant primary colours.

Madelana smiled inwardly, seeing Fiona’s lovely image in her mind’s eye. I think she’d be proud of me, proud of what I’ve made of my life, and of where I am today. I know she wouldn’t approve of Jack, of course. I don’t believe I do, either. Not for me. Not any more. I’ll call him in the
morning, ask him to have lunch, and I’ll end it face to face, she added to herself, reiterating her decision of earlier in her mind. That’s the only decent thing to do. I can’t tell him over the phone.

She put down the pen and began to shuffle through her files, looking for the one which held her notes and the material for the fashion exhibit.

Each of these folders pertained to the forthcoming celebrations for Harte’s sixtieth anniversary. Paula’s theme was simple, but clever in its simplicity: sixty years of stylish retailing from the jazz age to the space age.

Paula had put her in charge of the anniversary programme at the New York store, and she was responsible for the overall planning of different events and shows, and telexes had been flying back and forth across the Atlantic for many, many months. Ideas had been approved of, or knocked down, by Paula, and merchandise ordered, campaigns put in work, advertising art completed, brochures and invitations printed. The files represented endless hours of work and thought and dedication, and she must complete the last few memorandums about each event and campaign tonight.

Maddy’s own special projects included Fragrance Month; a stylish art show in the art gallery of the store, highlighting decorative objects from the Art Deco period; an exhibit of real and costume jewellery from the Art Deco period to the present, featuring some of the world’s greatest jewellery designers. These included Verdura, Jeanne Toussaint of Cartier, and Renée Puissant of Van Cleef and Arpels, and their work from decades past; Alain Boucheron and David Webb were two of the designers of the present who would be showcased. At the other end of the price scale, she had decided to highlight the unique costume jewellery and fabulous fakes designed by Kenneth Jay Lane, along with a collection of paste pieces from the nineteen-thirties.

Her hands came to rest on the fashion folder at last. This
held information and details of the fashion exhibition which Paula planned to hold at the London store next spring. Maddy had convinced her to bring it over to New York in the late summer of 1982. Having agreed, Paula had then suggested she try to expand the exhibit, by adding clothes borrowed from American women who had either been on the best dressed list at some time or other, or who owned a garment by a top couturier, whether living or dead. And this she had done – with great success.

The nucleus of the couture exhibition were clothes which had once belonged to Emma Harte, and which she had kept in good condition for years before her death. Paula had carefully preserved these clothes again, after they had been in the Fashion Fantasia exhibition at the London store some ten or eleven years ago.