“I said don’t panic, not yet.” Diana leaned forward and enveloped her in a warm embrace. “They’re pretty sure it’s cancer, but there are all sorts of tests and things they need to do before they can give me a prognosis.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” A surge of anger rose up through Hanna’s chest. She wasn’t sure what she was mad about; whether it was her mother’s lack of sharing, the fact that cancer had invaded her mother’s body, or the whole world in general. She grabbed hold of the emotion and stayed with it, preferring it to the sensation of hopelessness she had felt only a moment before.
“I didn’t want to worry you until I knew for certain there was something wrong. It would have been awful to have you all twitchy and nervous like this, and for the lump to turn out to be a boil, or even worse, a figment of my imagination.”
“Have they told you what they think they can do; what treatment you can have? I wish I’d gone with you to the hospital today.” Spending the day listening to a guy rapping about losing his money seemed to be a poor substitute for supporting her mum in her hour of need.
“Sweetie, I have another appointment on Thursday, I’m hoping they’ll be able to tell me more then.” Diana squeezed her one last time. “Now go and eat your food before it gets cold.”
Eleven
November 30th 2004
Joe Garfield sat back in the leather captain’s chair, folding his arms across his suited chest. His chocolate-brown eyes surveyed Richard with interest. The lines around them deepened into furrows as he spoke. “You did well to make the decision so quickly, Richard. If you find a cancer growing, you have to cut it out before it has time to take hold.”
Richard winced at the mention of the disease. It seemed to be at the center of his and Hanna’s life. Not that the cancer Joe was referring to was of the medical kind. It was the discovery that the head of the Real Estate Division had been taking backhanders from a number of construction companies. Even so, hearing the word was enough to send Richard’s mind across the Atlantic.
Things hadn’t been so easy on this side of the pond, either. Firing half of the executive team in the Real Estate division hadn’t been his favorite job, and searching for their replacements was proving even more difficult. He had called the meeting with Joe to discuss their short-term plans.
“We need to build the division back up quickly,” Richard stood up and walked over to the large picture window that overlooked the financial district. “I’m going to appoint an interim head while we let the executive search team do t
heir job.”
“It sounds like a good plan to me.” Joe nodded his head as he looked at the organization chart that Richard had left on his desk. “We can’t afford to take our eye off the ball when it’s such a growth market.”
They’d had this conversation a number of times. They were both amazed at how real estate prices were increasing exponentially, and the over-inflation of land values had made them wary. Maxwell Enterprises had agreed on a strategy of investing in the short-term while keeping their eye on the market, ready to withdraw at short notice should a downturn threaten.
Richard’s biggest fear was by the time the crash arrived, it would be too late. He was trying to diversify the company’s interests as much as possible, but he wasn’t foolish enough to withdraw from such a lucrative part of his business.
That was why finding the right person to lead the division was so important.
“Have you heard from Daniel at all?” Joe glanced at the photograph of the Maxwell family that Richard kept on his desk, picking it up and rubbing his thumbs over the gilt frame.
“I managed to track him down to a resort near Miami. He’s adamant that he won’t go back into rehab, and there’s little we can do to make him.” Richard rubbed his head wearily. It had been a hell of a month, and it wasn’t looking like things were going to get much better.
“He’s becoming a big liability to this company,” Joe remarked, putting the frame back on Richard’s oak desk. “We’re going to need a strategy for cutting him loose; we don’t want to be at his mercy forever.” Joe laced his fingers together, leaning forward until his elbows were on Richard’s desk. “He’s an addict, Richard, and you and I both know that he’s never going to change. I’d hate for us to be here in a few months’ time having an emergency meeting because he’s sold his share of the company for drugs.”
“The lawyers drew up a first refusal document, so he can’t sell it without giving me the option to buy.” Richard sighed, his fingers rubbing harder than ever at his temples. “I can arrange the finance easily enough if he does want to sell.”
“Maybe you need to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Richard laughed. “You’re making me sound like the Godfather. This is Daniel we’re talking about, not Sonny Corleone.”
“We just need to be prepared for the worst. There’s no room for sentimentality in business. Now, I’m going to go home, kiss my wife, and get ready for this damned gala.”
“You sound as excited about it as I am.”
“Oh believe me, Richard, I’m probably the only person in New York who is less excited about it than you.”
“Well, old man, I’ll see you at the Astoria at eight. I’ll be the one in the monkey suit.”
“And I’ll be the one with the most beautiful woman in the world on my arm, particularly since you couldn’t persuade Hanna to come with you tonight.” Joe gave him a small smile, knowing that the past months had placed a huge strain on Richard’s relationship with Hanna. “I’m only sorry that I won’t get to dance with her. Make sure you pass on mine and Emily’s regards.”
“I will.” Richard walked across the office with Joe, opening up the large oak door to let him out, closing it softly behind him. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he walked back to his desk, he checked his watch before pressing the speed dial.
“Hey.” Hanna’s soft voice coming down the earpiece made him smile. He sat down in his leather chair, pushing it back on its wheels until he could put his feet up on his desk.
“Hi, sweetheart. How’s Diana?”