And Lara would order another outfit.
Her employees were her family. She worried about them and was generous with them. They were all she had. She remembered their birthdays and anniversaries. She helped get their children into good schools and set up scholarship funds for them. When they tried to thank her, Lara was embarrassed. It was difficult for her to express her emotions. Her father had ridiculed her when she had tried. Lara had built a protective wall around herself. No one is ever going to hurt me again, she vowed. No one.
BOOK THREE
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m leaving for London in the morning, Howard.”
“What’s up?” Keller asked.
“Lord Macintosh has invited me to come over and take a look at a property he’s interested in. He wants to go into partnership.”
Brian Macintosh was one of the wealthiest real estate developers in England.
“What time do we leave?” Keller asked.
“I’ve decided to go alone.”
“Oh?”
“I want you to keep an eye on things here.”
He nodded. “Right. I’ll do that.”
“I know you will. I can always count on you.”
The trip to London was uneventful. The private 727 she had purchased took off in the morning and landed at the Magec Terminal at Luton Airport outside London. She had no idea her life was about to change.
When Lara arrived at the lobby of Claridges, Ronald Jones, the manager, was there to greet her. “It’s a pleasure to have you back, Miss Cameron. I’ll show you to your suite. By the way, we have some messages for you.” There were more than two dozen.
The suite was lovely. There were flowers from Brian MacIntosh and from Paul Martin, and champagne and hors d’oeuvres from the management. The phone began to ring the minute Lara walked in. The calls were from all over the United States.
“The architect wants to make some changes in the plans. It will cost a fortune…”
“There’s a holdup on the cement delivery…”
“The First National Savings and Loan wants in on our next deal…“
“The mayor wants to know if you can be in L.A. for the opening. He’d like to plan a big ceremony…”
“The toilets haven’t arrived…”
“Bad weather is holding us up. We’re falling behind schedule…”
Each problem required a decision, and when Lara finally finished with her calls, she was exhausted. She had dinner in her room alone and sat looking out the window, at the Rolls-Royces and Bentleys pulling up to the Brook Street entrance, and a feeling of elation swept over her. The little girl from Glace Bay has come a long way, Daddy.
The following morning Lara went with Brian Macintosh to look at the proposed site. It was enormous—two miles of riverside frontage filled with old run-down buildings and storage sheds.
“The British government will give us a lot of tax relief on this,” Brian Macintosh explained, “because we’re going to rehabilitate this whole section of the city.”
“I’d like to think about it,” Lara said. She had already made up her mind.
“By the way, I have tickets to a concert tonight,” Brian Macintosh told her. “My wife has a club meeting. Do you like classical music?”
Lara had no interest in classical music. “Yes.”
“Philip Adler is playing Rachmaninoff.” He looked at Lara as though expecting her to say something. She had never heard of Philip Adler.
“It sounds wonderful,” Lara said.
“Good. We’ll have supper afterward at Scotts. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Why did I say I liked classical music? Lara wondered. It was going to be a boring evening. She would have preferred to take a hot bath and go to sleep. Oh, well, one more evening won’t hurt me. I’ll fly back to New York in the morning.
The Festival Hall was crowded with music aficionados. The men wore dinner jackets and the women were dressed in beautiful evening gowns. It was a gala evening, and there was a feeling of excited expectation in the large hall.
Brian Macintosh purchased two programs from the usher, and they were seated. He handed Lara a program. She barely glanced at it. The London Philharmonic Orchestra…Philip Adler playing Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 30.