‘Not him, Miles. You. He watched you grow up and become a man. He would read about you in the papers and talk about how you should talk to this person about planning, or that bank about funding. He always knew where you were and what you were doing.’
Miles felt his heart lurch. Could it be true? Had his father really cared about his business? Had he really watched him make his way in the world? Miles felt a gnawing in his stomach and he looked away from Connie, turning his face to the sky. There was a pink cast to the clouds and it would be dark in less than an hour.
‘You know our lawyer is coming to the house this evening?’ said Connie.
‘Ah yes, the will.’
‘It’s a big responsibility, Miles,’ she said, looking at him sideways. ‘The assets are considerable.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘A great deal. I already know the contents of the will and I wanted to speak to you first.’
Miles laughed. ‘Wanted to soften the blow, eh? Not even left me a pair of cufflinks?’
‘No, Miles, he left you the business.’
Miles jerked backwards, almost losing his balance on the log. ‘You ... you’re serious?’ he stuttered.‘But we haven’t spoken in over nine years.’
‘That didn’t mean he didn’t love you, Miles. You were always his son. Ever since that first club, he’s believed you were the best person to move the company on. He was just too proud to pick up the phone.’
Miles could barely take it in. It was an enormous undertaking. Ash Corp. was owned by a complex series of limited companies and trusts, but Robert Ashford had ultimately had control of all of them. The assets would run into billions.
He rubbed his chin nervously. ‘I’m not sure I . . .’ he began, but trailed off. ‘It’s so big a job,’ was the best he could manage.
‘Well, your father’s shareholding has gone to you, but it doesn’t mean you have to be CEO,’ said Connie. ‘Pete Stone could step up.’
Miles gave a short laugh. ‘After the way he handled the PecOil merger last spring? I wouldn’t trust his judgement.’
Connie smiled, obviously pleased that Miles had also been following Robert’s fortunes in the business pages.
‘I can’t tell you what to do, Miles,’ she said. ‘I’m so proud of you, what you have done and if the Globe and your own business interests in America are your life now, then so be it. But I’d like you to come back to Ash Corp. Forget New York. I’d like you to come back to England.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Both me and Grace, eh?’
‘I’m not trying to use your father’s death to emotionally blackmail you both, if that’s what you’re implying,’ she said tartly.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said, putting a hand out to touch her knee. ‘I just . . . oh, I don’t know what I meant. But I can’t make a decision now, Mum.’
‘I don’t expect you to,’ she said carefully. ‘But this is what your father wanted, Miles. Come back and fulfil your promise.’
46
March 2002
The weeks after Robert’s death passed by in a daze. The ferocity of her emotions had taken Sasha by surprise, her grief made worse by the fact that she had to face it alone. She could count on one hand the number of people who knew about her relationship with Robert, so most people assumed that her complete withdrawal from the business and the social circuit were due to the injuries she had sustained from the accident. There were whispers, of course. The death of one of England’s most prominent businessmen had been a big story, but the Ashford PR machine had done a good job in containing the story. Only gossip linked her to Robert now, a thought that gave Sasha no comfort whatsoever.
‘You have a visitor,’ said Sally, her housekeeper, coming into the room and plumping the cushions. ‘Lucian Grey.’
Sasha looked up from the copy of the Financial Times she had been reading on her table by the window.
‘Thank you,’ she said, fastening her silk robe tighter and limping through her apartment into the living room. She still had to use a stick to walk even short distances, but she could feel she was getting stronger every day. Somehow, that just added to her anger; it seemed like a betrayal of Robert that she could recover when he never would.
‘Sasha, how are you feeling?
’ Lucian rose from the red velvet sofa to gently embrace her. An elegant sixty-year-old with four decades of experience in the fashion industry, he was fair and wise, with an instinctive fashion sense which was rare in a money man. Sasha had recommended him to the private equity house as a replacement for Philip when they had bought the company. He was one of the few people she trusted entirely.
‘I’m getting there,’ she said. ‘You know I’m coming back in to work on Monday?’