The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
you agree, David?’
Startled, David sat up abruptly. ‘Sorry, I was wool gathering.’
‘I said I thought we ought to take over immediately. By consolidating our work forces we could probably increase production and operate both places even more efficiently. Your father is willing.’
‘That’s an excellent thought! I’ll have Victor move in there tomorrow.’ He looked at his father. ‘Is that all right with you, Dad?’
‘I shall be glad to have him back,’ Abraham said. ‘It will put my mind to rest, and your mother’s.’
Emma stood up. The men also rose. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I should be going,’ she said. ‘I promised Edwina I would be home early today, to help her dress the Christmas tree. She has been looking forward to it. I don’t want to disappoint her.’
‘No, you must not do that,’ Abraham said. ‘It is wrong to break a promise to a child.’ He gave David a pointed stare. ‘Which you so often do to my grandsons,’ he said, sighing heavily.
‘But only because of the business, Dad,’ David rejoined defensively.
‘Ah, yes. The business. Always the business. Well, you be off, Emma. Give my best to Joe.’
‘And mine to Mrs Kallinski. Tell her I’ll stop by soon.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ David said, helping Emma into her coat and taking her arm possessively.
The Christmas tree was just the right size, Emma decided. She had purposely chosen this particular tree, even though grander specimens were available, in order to avoid ostentatious display, which she felt would be inappropriate in wartime. The housekeeper had potted it the previous evening, and now it reposed on a skirted table in a corner of the drawing room, next to the fireplace. Emma stepped back, her head on one side, viewing it with a critical eye. It was a healthy young fir, a rich dark green, and its branches were thick and luxuriant.
‘Hello, Emma. You’re home early.’
Emma swung around as Joe entered the drawing room and strode to the fire, rubbing his hands together.
‘Hello, Joe. Yes, I promised Edwina I would help her to dress the tree.’
‘Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten.’
Continuing to unwrap the decorations, Emma told him about her meeting with the Kallinskis. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea to join forces, don’t you?’ she finished, glancing at him over her shoulder.
Joe was frowning. ‘I’m not so sure. Won’t it mean a lot of extra work and worry for you?’
‘Why me? David bears the brunt of that business.’
‘It strikes me you both have enough on your plates as it is. Particularly you.’ Joe sounded grouchy, and as always he was opposed to innovation.
‘Don’t be so negative, Joe. I don’t understand you sometimes,’ Emma said quietly. ‘And anyway, there’s Mr Kallinski to think about. He’s not been well lately. The merger is the best solution for him.’
‘The old man could have sold his business to someone else,’ Joe suggested.
‘Yes, he could. But why should he? It was only natural that he would come to David,’ Emma explained. ‘Besides, Abraham Kallinski has always been good to me. I’m delighted to make his life a little easier.’
‘I’m only thinking of you, Emma. However, if you believe it’s such a wonderful idea, who am I to criticize? You and David always do what you want with the factory anyhow.’
‘We always tell you our plans,’ she countered swiftly, detecting that disgruntled tone in his voice.
‘Yes, I know. After the fact.’
‘Oh, Joe, please don’t be sour. It’s almost Christmas. Let’s not bicker now!’
‘Bicker! Who’s bickering!’ Joe retorted. ‘Really, Emma, I can’t open my mouth without you accusing me of—’ He stopped short and his voice changed, became tender, as he said, ‘Hello, sweetheart. Come in. Don’t stand there.’
Emma turned around. Edwina was hovering in the doorway. She skipped across the floor. ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ she cried, flinging herself at Joe. He picked her up and swung her around. Her blue velvet dress billowed out and her waist-length hair, of a blonde so pale it was almost silver, flew out behind her, gleaming in the lamplight. She laughed delightedly and after a few more whirls Joe put her down on the floor, holding her arms to steady her.
‘You’re not dizzy, are you, angel?’
‘No, Daddy.’ She smiled up at him, her exquisite little face dimpling prettily.
‘Well, there you are, darling,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve unpacked all the ornaments and we can start.’
‘Hello, Mother,’ Edwina said without looking at Emma. She grabbed Joe’s hand. ‘Daddy, will you help me to dress the tree. Please. Please. Oh, do say yes, Daddy.’ She fixed her luminous silvery eyes on him appealingly.
Joe laughed and patted her head. ‘Of course I will, love.’ Edwina dragged him to the tree. She climbed on to the stool Emma had placed next to the table, still clutching Joe’s arm.
Emma was holding a silver bell in her hand. ‘Where shall I put this, dear?’ she asked, smiling at her nine-year-old daughter.
Edwina made no response. She looked up at Joe and flashed him a radiant smile. ‘Where do you think it should hang, Daddy?’
‘Well, I’m not such an expert at these things. Perhaps here.’ He indicated a branch.
‘May I have the bell please, Mother.’
Emma handed it to her silently. Edwina immediately gave the bell to Joe. ‘You put the bell on the tree, Daddy. Anywhere you want. I think you should be first.’
This little ritual continued for several minutes. Whenever Emma picked up an ornament and suggested a spot for it, Edwina took it from her quickly, ignoring her suggestions, deferring always to Joe. Stunned, Emma stepped away from the tree uncertainly, acutely aware of the slight. She was the interloper, and unwanted. She retreated to the fireplace, watching them laughing happily together. She experienced a small stab of dismay and pushed it away quickly. She should not be envious of their relationship. She should be happy they were so adoring of each other.
Joe and Edwina were so engrossed with each other and the tree they did not notice Emma glide quietly out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it. She swallowed hard, conscious of the prick of tears behind her eyes, the ache in her throat. After a moment she was in control of herself and her step was firm as she walked across the marble-floored hall. She took her coat from the closet, picked up the two baskets standing on the floor, and slipped out of the house quickly.
It was a cold night, dark and without a moon, and snow was falling in light flurries. Fortunately the lamps on the iron gates of each house were burning, and their dim glow lighted her way as she turned up the flagged walk that fronted the mansions in the Towers. The snow was beginning to settle. It would be a white Christmas after all, just as Edwina had so fervently wished. Emma bit her lip. Christmas had suddenly lost its appeal for her. She reflected on Edwina’s snubs, filled with regret, her mind fogged by the hurt she was still experiencing.
A few seconds later Emma was pushing open the gate of the last mansion in the row, where the O’Neills lived. Blackie had bought it in 1913, two years after his marriage to Laura. If it was not the fine Georgian edifice he had talked about building years before, it was rather imposing, and he had made many grand improvements.
The little Irish maid greeted her cheerfully. She took Emma’s coat and scarf along with the baskets, inquiring politely after her health. Emma was just about to ask her where Mrs O’Neill was when Blackie appeared at the top of the red-carpeted staircase.