The recipe appeared in the magazine three months later.
It began:
Black Bun—A classic Scottish dish. A mixture encased in a short paste jacket made from half a pound of flour, a quarter pound of butter, a touch of cold water, and a half a teaspoon of baking power. Inside are two pounds of raisins, half a pound of chopped almonds, three-quarters of a pound of flour, half a pound of sugar, two teaspoons of allspice, a teaspoon of ground ginger, a teaspoon of cinnamon, a half teaspoon of baking powder, and a dash of brandy…
Lara looked at the article for a long time, and it brought back the taste of it, the smell of the boardinghouse kitchen, the noise of the boarders at supper. Her father helpless in his bed. She put the magazine away.
People recognized Lara on the street, and when she walked into a restaurant, there were always excited whispers. She was escorted around town by half a dozen eligible suitors and had flattering proposals, but she was not interested. In a strange, almost eerie way, she was still looking for someone. Someone familiar. Someone she had never met.
Lara would wake up at five o’clock every morning and have her driver, Max, take her to one of the buildings under construction. She would stand there, staring at what she was creating, and she thought, You were wrong, Father. I can collect the rents.
For Lara, the sounds of the day began with the rat-a-tat-tat of the jackhammers, the roar of the bulldozers, the clanging of heavy metal. She would ride the rickety construction elevator to the top and stand on the steel girders with the wind blowing in her face, and she thought, I won this city.
Paul Martin and Lara were in bed.
“I hear you chewed out a couple of your construction workers pretty good today.”
“They deserved it,” Lara said. “They were doing sloppy work.”
Paul grinned. “At least you’ve learned not to slap them.”
“Look what happened when I did slap one.” She snuggled up to him. “I met you.”
“I have to take a trip to L.A.,” Paul said. “I’d like you to come with me. Can you get away for a few days?”
“I’d love to, Paul, but it’s impossible. I schedule my days with a stopwatch.”
He sat up and looked down at her. “Maybe you’re doing too much, baby. Don’t ever get too busy for me.”
Lara smiled and began to stroke him. “Don’t worry about that. It will never happen.”
It had been there in front of her all the time, and she had not seen it. It was a huge waterfront property in the Wall Street area, near the World Trade Center. And it was for sale. Lara had passed it a dozen times, but she looked at it now and saw what should have been there all along: In her mind, she could see the world’s tallest building. She knew what Howard was going to say: “You’re getting in over your head, Lara. You can’t get involved with this.” But she knew that nothing was going to stop her.
When she got to the office, she called a meeting of her staff.
“The Wall Street property on the waterfront,” Lara said. “We’re going to buy it. We’re going to put up the tallest skyscraper in the world.”
“Lara…”
“Before you say anything, Howard, let me point out a few things. The location is perfect. It’s in the heart of the business district. Tenants will be fighting to get office space there. And remember, it’s going to be the tallest skyscraper in the world. That’s a big sizzle. It’s going to be our flagship. We’ll call it Cameron Towers.”
“Where’s the money coming from?”
Lara handed him a piece of paper.
Keller was examining the figures. “You’re being optimistic.”
“I’m being realistic. We’re not talking about just any building. We’re talking about a jewel, Howard.”
He was thinking hard. “You’ll be stretching yourself thin.”
Lara smiled. “We’ve done that before, haven’t we?”
Keller said, thoughtfully, “The tallest skyscraper in the world…”
“That’s right. And the banks call us every day, throwing money at us. They’ll jump at this.”