The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

“A loan?”

“Henry’s description, not mine,” said George.

“Who’s kidding who? How much?” said Abel.

“Five thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Abel.”

“Forget it. If that’s the only mistake you’ve made in the last three years, I’m a lucky man. What do you imagine Henry spends the money on?”

“Wine, women and song. There’s nothing particularly original about our congressman. There’s also a rumor around the Chicago bars that he’s started gambling quite heavily.”

“That’s all I need from the latest member of the board. Keep an eye on him and let me know if the situation gets any worse.”

George nodded.

“And now I want to talk about expansion. With Washington pumping three hundred million dollars a week into the economy, we must be prepared for a boom the like of which America has never experienced before. We must also start building Barons in Europe while land is cheap and most people are only thinking about survival. Let’s begin with London.”

“For God’s sake, Abel, the place is as flat as a pancake.”

“All the better to build on, my dear.”

“Miss Tredgold,” said Zaphia, “I’m going to a fashion show this afternoon, a benefit for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and I might not be back before Florentyna’s bedtime.”

“Very good, Mrs. Rosnovski,” said Miss Tredgold.

“I’d like to go,” said Florentyna.

Both women stared at the child in surprise.

“But it’s only two days before your exams,” said Zaphia, anticipating that Miss Tredgold would thoroughly disapprove if Florentyna attended something as frivolous as a fashion show. “What are you meant to be doing this afternoon?”

“Medieval history,” replied Miss Tredgold without hesitation. “Charlemagne through to the Council of Trent.”

Zaphia was sad that her daughter was not being allowed to take an interest in feminine pursuits but rather was expected to act as a surrogate son, filling the gap for her husband’s disappointment at not having a boy.

“Then perhaps we’d better leave it for another time,” she said. Zaphia would have insisted her daughter accompany her but realized that if Abel found out, both she and Florentyna would suffer for it later. However, for once Miss Tredgold surprised her.

“I am not sure I agree with you, Mrs. Rosnovski,” she said. “The occasion might well be the ideal one to introduce the child to the world of fashion and indeed of society.” Turning to Florentyna, she added, “And a break from your studies a few days before exams can do you no harm.”

Zaphia looked at Miss Tredgold with new respect. “Perhaps you would like to come yourself?” she added. It was the first time Zaphia had seen Miss Tredgold blush.

“No, thank you, no, I couldn’t possibly.” She hesitated. “I have letters, yes, letters to attend to, and I’ve set aside this afternoon to pen them.”

That afternoon, Zaphia was waiting by the main school gate dressed in a pink suit in place of the usual Miss Tredgold in sensible navy. Florentyna thought her mother looked extremely smart.

She wanted to run all the way to the Drake Hotel, where the fashion show was being held, and when she actually arrived she found it hard to remain still even though her seat was in the front row. She could have touched the haughty models as they picked their way gracefully down the brilliantly lit catwalk. As the pleated skirts swirled and dipped, tight-waisted jackets were taken off to reveal elegantly bare shoulders, and sophisticated ladies in floating yards of pale organza topped with silk hats drifted silently to unknown assignations behind a red velvet curtain. Florentyna sat entranced. When the last model had turned a full circle, signaling that the show had ended, a press photographer asked Zaphia if he could take her picture. “Mama,” said Florentyna urgently as he was setting up his tripod, “you must wear your hat further forward if you want to be thought chic.”

Mother obeyed child for the first time.

When Miss Tredgold tucked Florentyna into bed that night she asked if she had enjoyed the experience.

“Oh, yes,” said Florentyna. “I had no idea clothes could make you look so good.”

Miss Tredgold smiled, a little wistfully.

“And did you realize that they raised over eight thousand dollars for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra? Even Papa would have been impressed by that.”

“Indeed he would,” said Miss Tredgold, “and one day you will have to decide how to use your wealth for the benefit of other people. It is not always easy being born with money.”

The next day, Miss Tredgold pointed out to Florentyna a picture of her mother in Women’s Wear Daily under the caption, “Baroness Rosnovski enters the fashion scene in Chicago.”

“When can I go to a fashion show again?” asked Florentyna.

“Not until you have been through Charlemagne and the Council of Trent,” said Miss Tredgold.

“I wonder what Charlemagne wore when he was crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,” said Florentyna.

That night, closed into her room, with only the light of a flashlight to go by, she let down the hem of her school skirt and took two inches in at the waist.

Florentyna was now in her last term of Middle School, and Abel hoped she might win the coveted Upper School Scholarship. Florentyna was aware that her father could afford to send her to Upper School if she failed to win a scholarship, but she had plans for the money her father would save each year if she was awarded free tuition. She had studied hard that year, but she had no way of knowing how well she had done when the

final examination came to an end, as there were 122 Illinois children who had entered for the examination, but only four scholarships were to be awarded. Florentyna had been warned by Miss Tredgold that she would not learn the result for at least a month. “Patience is a virtue,” Miss Tredgold reminded her, and added with mock horror that she would return to England on the next boat if Florentyna did not come in in the first three places.

“Don’t be silly, Miss Tredgold, I shall be first,” Florentyna replied confidently, but as the days of the month went by she began to regret her bragging and confided to Eleanor during a long walk that she might have written cosine when she had meant sine in one of the questions, and created an impossible triangle. “Perhaps I shall come in second,” she ventured over breakfast one morning.

“Then I shall move to the employ of the parents of the child who comes first,” said Miss Tredgold imperturbably.

Abel smiled as he looked up from his copy of the morning paper. “If you win a scholarship,” he said, “you will have saved me a thousand dollars a year. If you come out on top, two thousand dollars.”

“Yes, Papa, and I have plans for that.”

“Oh, do you, young lady. And may I inquire what you have in mind?”

“If I win a scholarship, I want you to invest the money in Baron Group stock until I’m twenty-one, and if I’m first I want you to do the same for Miss Tredgold.”

“Good gracious, no,” said Miss Tredgold, stretching to her full height, “that would be most improper. I do apologize, Mr. Rosnovski, for Florentyna’s impudence.”