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‘We need to talk, Mother,’ said Liz, leaning on the desk.
‘Yes we do, Liz,’ replied Meredith, taking her glasses off. ‘You are senior management. Management,’ she emphasized. ‘You cannot behave as you just did in there. The way you just talked to Eleanor, I’d be surprised if we didn’t have her resignation letter on my desk by tomorrow morning.’
‘Well, that would be a start,’ said Liz, more coolly, sitting down in the Eames chair in front of Meredith’s desk, crossing her long legs in front of her. ‘Mother, this company is about to go under and you seem content to let that happen.’
Liz studied Meredith’s reaction carefully. For all her skill at reading people, Liz was never entirely sure where her mother’s loyalties lay. Clearly Meredith did not share Liz’s vision for the business, but she wasn’t sure whether that was a head–in–the–sand refusal to acknowledge the decline of Asgill’s, or whether she was simply so blind to William’s shortcomings that she was prepared to let the company suffer under his weak direction.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth,’ snapped Meredith. ‘No one wants to see this company in difficulties, least of all me.’
‘So are you happy about what you’ve just heard in there?’
‘Everyone is disappointed by the figures,’ said Meredith patiently. ‘But you know as well as I do that the industry is facing some tough challenges. Need I remind you that we are still an independent, family–owned company, and not under the wings of a multinational? In hard times, it’s harder for the little guy.’
Liz shook her head in disagreement. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous, Mother. So what if we’re not in the L’Oréal stable? Smaller companies can still thrive in the beauty industry if they innovate and market themselves properly, but there’s no margin for error. We can’t afford to make any more mistakes.’
Liz took a deep breath, knowing that, for once, she had to be completely honest. She had never been convinced by her brother’s leadership but had stopped short of saying so to her mother because Meredith had the power to appoint his successor.
‘The weak link is William,’ said Liz, pressing on. ‘We know it, the industry knows it, but we can still restore confidence if we remove him.’
Meredith looked unmoved. She sat silently, regarding her daughter.
‘The key attribute for running a company successfully is not necessarily the ability to shout the loudest, Liz,’ she said finally.
‘Perhaps not, but I always assumed an ability to turn a profit might also be required.’
Meredith shook her head. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, Liz. When William took over as CEO, we all agreed that we needed to innovate more. He’s doing that.’
‘He’s doing that?’ laughed Liz. ‘When has William ever done anything innovative? Vital Radiance was green–lighted in Dad’s time. All William feels comfortable doing is cost–cutting.’
‘He’s overseen two major launches, Liz: Vital and Skin Plus. Not to mention the successful re–launch of The Balm.’
Liz shrugged. She had to concede that one: a simple repackaging of the cleansing pomade that had made her father’s name when he had launched the company in the late 1950s. They’d replaced The Balm’s dated black plastic pot with a sleek brushed glass one and increased sales by 20 per cent.
‘That was three years ago,’ said Liz, shaking her head.
‘Well, I believe in your brother,’ said Meredith and, with those words, Liz knew she was wasting her breath; she knew her mother would never hear her objections. Not for the first time, Liz felt a sinking sense of disappointment and rejection. Why do I even bother trying? she thought miserably. Yes, she had been born into wealth and privilege, but Liz had never taken it for granted, working twice as hard as anyone else. But what good was all that effort? All those summers she had spent in the Research and Development lab as a student when all her college friends were having fun in Mexico, Australia, or the South of France, or the MBA she had earned at Wharto
n in order to understand the business side better. It was all a waste as far as her mother was concerned. Meredith’s attitude seemed to be ‘keep quiet, the boys know best’. The problem was, Liz had been born first and she had been born a girl.
Liz stood up and silently walked out of the room. She was sick of her brother, sick of her mother. She was sick of trying to save the company with her creativity and the hard work she got no credit for. Screw them, she thought to herself as she quietly closed the door behind her. Screw them all. It was time to look after herself.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Welcome to Asgill’s,’ beamed a tanned blonde as Tess walked nervously into the company’s reception area. If she hadn’t already been anxious on this, her first visit to the offices on the thirty–second floor of a midtown skyscraper, the receptionist was enough to unnerve her. She looked like a super–charged Cosmopolitan cover girl; all bouncy, tawny hair, perfect skin and feline eyes. Tess wondered how anyone could look so perfect and perky at seven o’clock in the morning. Then again, all of New York seemed to bristle with an energy she had never witnessed in London, certainly not this early. For her first day at work she had wanted to be the first in, but it seemed as if the rest of Manhattan had had the same idea. The streets below her were already full of people, cars, and noise, and Starbucks had been so busy she had walked straight past it – no one needed a latte that much.
‘I’m Sally,’ said the blonde, handing Tess a security pass and leading her down a long cream corridor. ‘When did you get into town?’
‘Last night,’ replied Tess. Everything had happened so quickly that it was easy to forget she was in a completely new city on a new continent. The Asgill offices seemed like a different world, too, especially compared to life at the Globe, which had been one huge airless room full of ringing phones, old Formica desks, and the smell of stale tea. Here, on the thirty–second floor, everything was tasteful and calm, with pale ivory walls, chrome cantilever furniture and huge photographs of the company’s advertising campaigns. It even smelt delicious, thanks to vast arrangements of fresh lilies everywhere. We’re not in Kansas any more, Toto, she thought as she tried to keep up with Sally’s brisk pace.
‘Office hours are eight to five, although some of us get in earlier, others a little later,’ said Sally, nodding over to some smaller offices off the main open–plan block.
‘Mrs Asgill has the corner office and she gets in at nine a.m. She’ll drop by and see you this morning. In the meantime, Patty Shackleton, our legal counsel is going to show you around and get you up to speed.’
Sally stopped outside a small, sunny office and motioned for Tess to step inside.
‘Home,’ she said with a grin.
When Sally had gone, Tess took her jacket off and hung it on the coat stand next to the door, then went to sit behind the glass desk, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the morning sun pour through the windows and warm her back. My new life, she thought, feeling excited, on edge, and just a little bit sad about how easy it had been to leave London, the city she had called home for almost ten years. She had flown back to England the day after Brooke Asgill’s engagement party and given her notice letter to a smug, suntanned Andy Davidson, first thing on the Monday morning. Unsurprisingly, he’d been more than happy to accept her resignation. ‘Leave at the end of the week, yeah?’ he had said. ‘No sense hanging about, is there?’
