Read Online The Prodigal Daughter by Jeffrey Archer - Free Book Online Page B

special treat to accompany Miss Tredgold and
his eleven-yearold daughter on their journey to Madison Avenue.
    Abel had long
considered New York to be the only major city in the world not to boast a
first-class hotel. He admired the Plaza, the Pierre and the Carlyle but did not
think that any of the threc held a candle to Claridge’s in London, the George V
in Paris or the Danieli in Venice, and only those achieved the standards he was
trying to reproduce for the New York Baron.
    Florentyna was
aware that Papa was spending more and more time in New York, and it saddened
her that the affection between her father and mother now seemed to be a thing
of the past. The rows were becoming so frequent that she wondered if she was in
any way to blarne.
    Once Miss
Tredgold had completed everything on the list that could be purchased at
Marshall Field’s-three blue sweaters (navy), three blue skirts (navy), four
shirts (white), six blue bloorners (dark), six pairs of gray socks (light), one
navy-blue silk dress with white collar and cuffs-shc planned the trip to New
York.
    Florentyna and
Miss Tredgold took the train to Grand Central Station and on arrival in New
York went straight to Abercrombie & Fitch, where they selected two pairs of
brown Oxfords.
    “Such sensible
shous,” proclaimed Miss Tredgold. “Nobody who wears Abercrombies needs fear
going through life with flat feet.” They then proceeded over to Fifth Avenue,
and it was some minutes before Miss Tredgold realized she was on her own,
Turning around, she observed Florentyna’s nose pressed against a pane Lit
Elizabeth Arden’s. She walked quickly back to join her. “Ten shades of lipstick
for the sophisticated woman,” read the sign in the window.
    “Rose red is my
favorite,” said Florentyna hopefully.
    “The school
rules are very clear,” said Miss Tredgold autboritatively.
    “No lipstick, no
nail polish, and no jewelry except one ring and a watch.”
    Florentyria
reluctantly left the rose-red lipstick and joined her governess on her march up
Fifth Avenue toward the Plaza Hotel, wheie her father was expecting them at the
Palm Court for tea. Abel could not resist returning to the hotel where he had
served his apprenticeship as a junior waiter, and although he recognized no one
except old Sammy, the headwaiter in the Oak Room, everyone knew exactly who he
was.
    After macaroons
and ice cream for Florentyna, a cup of coffee for Abel, and lemon tea and a
watercress sandwich for Miss Tredgold, Abel returned to work. Miss Tredgold
checked her New York itinerary and took Florentyna to the top of the Empire
State Building. As the elevator reached the one hundred and second floor Florentyna felt quite giddy, and they both burst out
laughing when they discovered fog had come in from the East River and they
couldn’t even see as far as the Chrysler Building. Miss Tredgold checked her
list again and decided that their time would be better spent visiting the Metropolitan
Museum. Francis Henry Taylor, the director, had just acquired a large canvas by
Pablo Picasso; the oil painting turned out to be a woman with two heads and one
breast coming out of her shoulder.
    “What do you
think of that’?” asked Florentyna.
    “Not a lot,”
said Miss Tredgold. I rather suspect that when he was at school he received the
same sort of art reports as you do now.”
    Florentyna
always enjoyed staying in one of her father’s hotels when she was on a trip.
She would happily spend hours waWng around trying to pick up mistakes the hotel
was making. After all, she pointed out to Miss Tredguld, they had their
investment to con * sider. Over dinner that night in the Grill Room of the New
York Baron, Florentyna told her father that she didn’t think much of the hotel
shops.
    “What’s wrong
with them?” asked Abel. mouthing questions without
paying much attention to the answers.
    “Nothing you can
point to easily,” said Florentyna, “except that they are all dreadfully dull