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Meredith’s face paled. Liz knew she recognized that having Liz Asgill on board would be a vital, even non–negotiable part of any deal. When she spoke, her mother’s voice was quiet and measured, her eyes icy blue.
‘You would be deliberately sabotaging any negotiations by withdrawing your involvement.’
Liz was glad they were in the rarefied surroundings of the restaurant. Meredith could be fiery when roused. Nothing that was a match for Liz, of course, but Liz preferred to do her business dealings in situations where she could control the heat and tempo of the situation.
‘There are other options, Mother,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m sure if given the choice, you would rather not sell Asgill’s in a cut–price deal. Father would turn in his grave, for one thing.’
‘Elizabeth …’ began Meredith, her voice low and full of warning.
‘Hear me out,’ said Liz. ‘As I say, there is another way, a way in which you get to keep the company, William can keep control, and I will keep doing what I do best.’
Meredith sipped her wine. ‘Carry on.’
‘It’s very simple: I will buy Skin Plus and I will pay a good price. You can pay off the debts and it’s an ideal opportunity to streamline the company, kill off some of the lines that are long past their sell–by date, and pump cash into the areas that have potential: The Balm, the fragrances, and so on.’
‘You’re cutting off your own family,’ said Meredith, her elegant nostrils flaring.
‘This is not a hostile act, Mother,’ said Liz smoothly. ‘This is win–win. I’ll even keep my position on the Asgill board if you think you can benefit from my skill–set.’
She had to use every ounce of restraint to stop the latter part of that sentence dissolving into sarcasm. If her mother thought for one minute that this approach was rooted in her daughter’s bitterness – or the truth, hatred – she would dismiss it without a moment’s thought. Liz knew that she had definitely got her ruthlessness from her mother’s side of the family. Meredith stared at Liz and she could almost see the thought process going on inside her head.
‘And where do you propose getting that sort of money?’
Liz popped a sliver of foie gras into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue before she replied. ‘This is an in principle conversation, Mother,’ she smiled. ‘But I think I may have some interest.’
Meredith shook her head slowly, never taking her eyes from Liz. ‘Let me discuss it with your brother.’
Liz nodded and signalled to the waiter to clear their plates. But inside, she was jumping for joy.
CHAPTER FORTY–FIVE
Tess leant forward in her seat and waved a hundred–dollar bill at her Hawaiian taxi driver.
‘Here’s your tip if you can go any faster,’ she said. For the first time in her life, she had missed her flight and had to wait around JFK for eight hours to get on the next one to Hawaii’s Big Island. And now she was late – very, very late. So late, in fact, she would barely have time to change out of the jeans and T–shirt she had worn on the plane, let alone have a pre–pageant meeting with Sean Asgill.
In the rear–view mirror she saw the driver smile, then nod, while making no apparent effort to hurry up.
We’re not in New York any more, she sighed, consoling herself with the thought that this was a baby–sitting gig, not a life–or–death business appointment. Suddenly, the driver swung right into a palm–tree–lined drive and under an archway reading ‘Welcome to the Aloha Grand Hotel.’
‘Oh. We’re here?’ said Tess, quickly putting the hundred–dollar bill back into her purse. She stepped outside into the balmy, sweet–scented evening air, took her wheelie–case off the driver, ignoring his upturned hand, and bolted for her suite.
Already it was dark, and from the noise of Hawaiian drums and cheers coming from the beach, the pageant was clearly reaching some sort of crescendo. Throwing on an olive silk wrap dress and some silver Jimmy Choo sandals, Tess raced downstairs and out to the long lawns by the beach where the pageant stage had been erected. Either side of the stage were bleachers full of cheering frat–house boys and, in the centre, at least fifty tables of sponsors, press, and Hawaiian dignitaries. Tess was amazed at the scale of the event. The pageant was clearly big business, much more than some lame publicity stunt for Asgill’s Hawaiian Glo suntan lotion. She flashed her pass at security and slipped into a table at the back. The event was part Hawaiian luau, part beauty contest, and while the final girls in the competition slipped into their evening wear, the stage was filled with a fire–eating and hula dancing display. Finally, after much whooping from the drunken frat boys, five girls paraded back on stage in jewelled gowns cut low in the front and high on the thigh.
The master of ceremonies, a rotund Hawaiian in an electric blue blazer, lifted his microphone.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he chimed. ‘Please welcome, from Asgill’s Hawaiian Glo, Mr Sean Asgill!’
Sean bounded on stage, his white teeth flashing in the Polynesian darkness.
‘The moment of truth, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, his voice popping in the PA, ‘What we’ve all been waiting for … ’
‘He’s so cute, don’t you think?’ whispered a blonde to her left.
Tess smiled weakly. ‘Too many teeth for my liking.’
There was a drum roll and Sean ripped open a silver envelope with a flourish.
‘And the winner is … ’ He paused for effect, then looked down at the card, feigned surprise, then pleasure. Yeah right, thought Tess. As if you didn’t have her all picked out from the start.
