The Sisters Read online

  She slipped two Tylenol under her tongue and sipped carefully from the water glass in front of her. She felt her sisters’ eyes on her but refused to meet their gaze. There was nothing wrong with having a drink when things were tough, she reasoned. Violetta was always out, drinking, probably doing drugs. Grace was proud she had never taken drugs, not even in college where they were handed out like vitamins.

  ‘Feeling a little rough?’ whispered Violetta archly.

  Grace resisted the urge to flip her middle finger at her sister, another thing she had never done. She looked around the room. Leon certainly had taste, she thought. The boardroom was on the top floor overlooking the city. Glass covered one wall and huge pieces of art covered the others. Not that Grace had been asked to help with the choice of the pieces. She had offered but Leon had knocked her back, saying he needed a real art consultant not an amateur.

  Grace looked with interest at his choices. She knew a few of the pieces; he would have paid top dollar for them, as he did with everything. Money and size were Leon’s benchmarks when it came to art and life. More stores, bigger houses, bigger cars and even the triplets were a pride of his. Although his daughters were disappointing, the mere fact that he had fathered triplets was enough for him to boast about.

  ‘Shall we get started?’ Spencer asked. ‘I am sure the girls would like to get back to their mother as soon as possible.’

  The older gentleman at the far end of the oval wooden table cleared his throat. Violetta remembered him from the few parties that Leon and Birdie had held at the estate over the years for Pajaro staff.

  ‘Hello to you all. I would like to start by offering our best wishes for Mrs de Santoval’s speedy recovery. We were shocked to find out about her accident and please let us all know if there is anything we can do to help in this difficult time.’ He looked genuinely upset, thought Carlotta, lowering her gaze away from him and the other concerned faces at the table.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Grace.

  ‘As you might remember, I am Nicolas Canturi, the Chief Financial Officer at Pajaro.’

  The girls nodded their recognition.

  ‘I have been with Pajaro for the last ten years. I have worked beside your father for all of them. I did not have the privilege of working with your mother when she was a more active part of the company in its early days but I understand she was a formidable and creative woman,’ he said, kindness flooding his voice.

  Violetta pushed her fingernails into her hand to take away from the pain in her heart that she felt at Nicolas mentioning her mother. Whatever had happened to that woman that people spoke of so highly? The Birdie she had known was a devoted mother and wife, not this creative powerhouse that Leon had, no doubt, pushed out of the business so he could have total control.

  ‘I am not sure how much your father has told you about the running of Pajaro,’ Nicolas continued.

  ‘None, our father liked to separate family and business,’ said Grace tactfully.

  ‘Well,’ said Nicolas, clearing his throat again. ‘Pajaro is in trouble. The last two years have seen profits down. The dollar is terrible, as you know, and production costs offshore have gone up considerably. Sales are down, Pajaro is no longer the brand it once was, there are imitators and people are cannier with their money. Leon has been losing interest in the company and while we have all tried to maintain sales, it was impossible without Leon’s leadership. As this is a privately owned company, we are an advisory board only and could not possibly take the reins as Pajaro required us to. Leon borrowed an enormous amount of money this year to get Pajaro back on track.’

  ‘How much money?’ asked Spencer, taking notes in a small leather notebook.

  ‘$220 million,’ said Nicolas, without having to refer to any notes. He knew the number by heart.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ asked Spencer. ‘Pajaro has cash flow now and we can work out a plan to get it back on track.’

  Nicolas cleared his throat again, much to Carlotta’s annoyance. ‘The problem is that it’s gone.’

  ‘Gone, as in spent already?’ asked Spencer.

  ‘No, gone when Leon disappeared,’ said Nicolas, clearly embarrassed to be giving the women this news.

  The girls looked at each other in shock.

  ‘Do you know where he is?’ he asked the sisters.

  Violetta spoke, her voice shaking. ‘The detectives that we spoke to said they thought he had flown somewhere but you would have to speak to them.’

  Nicolas took a note.

  ‘They will contact you, no doubt,’ said Spencer. ‘So, what are the options?’

  Nicolas rifled through his papers. ‘We have worked out several plans. One is that we put the company in receivership and hopefully sell it. We could get enough to sell it to a larger company, pay back the debtors and the banks, and you would still have something at the end for the girls and Birdie.’

  ‘What else have you got?’ asked Spencer, looking at the horror on Violetta's face.

  ‘Well, we could try and turn it around and trade out of the trouble but I doubt this is a good option, given the current state of the market and the industry. Fashion is not as profitable as it used to be.’

  ‘What would we have to do to make this option happen?’ asked Violetta, her mind ticking over.

  ‘We would need to convince the banks that Pajaro can be saved. That there is leadership and a good plan.’

  Spencer spoke. ‘You cannot sell without both of the owners’ signatures. Since Leon is missing and Birdie is unable to undertake this at this time, then the girls have power of attorney until Birdie is well again. Birdie is still a major shareholder, don’t forget, so the girls have to make the decisions.’

  Violetta looked at Spencer gratefully; it felt good to have him on their side.

  ‘I am sorry, I do not mean to be disrespectful but what do these women know about running a company, particularly one the size of Pajaro?’

  ‘Nothing. We know nothing,’ said Violetta forcefully. ‘But we can learn.’

  ‘Learn everything in 12 months?” asked Nicolas incredulously. ‘The company needs immediate solutions. You won’t have time to learn what needs to be done to be able to fix this.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you are all for,’ said Violetta. ‘What did you do when Leon was in charge? I assume you have tasks, job descriptions.’ She stood up from her chair.

  ‘Of course, Ms de Santoval. We all have job descriptions, as you put it. It’s just that your father was a part of everything, and there were no decisions made without his consent. It has been impossible to be able to get anything done over the past 18 months. He was never here to sign off but then he would ball out anyone who made decisions without his approval.’

  ‘If we were to step in,’ said Violetta, ‘we would need your absolute support in every area.’

  The room was silent, the men around the table looking at her, some with interest, some disdainfully. Violetta’s reputation preceded her, and there was not a person in the room who thought she had a chance of committing to Pajaro and giving it the attention it required.

  Violetta was filled with a desire like she had never felt before – she knew she wanted to take this on, not for Leon but for Birdie. There was no way her father was going to have the satisfaction of watching Pajaro disappear into financial oblivion from wherever he and his trashy mistress were now, living off the money he had stolen from the company.

  Nicolas opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but Carlotta stepped in and spoke first. ‘Of course, Violetta has mine and Grace’s support, and Spencer’s.’

  She looked at him for his agreement. Whatever Violetta planned, she knew they had to stand by her, even if that meant losing everything.

  ‘Naturally,’ said Spencer. ‘I will relocate here until I am no longer required.’

  He spoke graciously and warmly and Violetta felt her eyes prick with tears. She blinked them away and saw her sisters smiling at her.

  ‘
We would need a plan,’ said Nicolas, thinking. ‘I could buy some time with the banks and investment firms until you can present to us. How soon do you think that could happen?’

  ‘How much time have we got?’ asked Carlotta, used to riding against the clock. Timing was something she understood; training and preparation came naturally to her.

  ‘I could get us two weeks, maybe three at a stretch,’ said Nicolas.

  ‘Done,’ said Violetta, with more conviction than she felt. Sitting down again, she took a notepad with the Pajaro logo on the top and a pencil that was in the glass holder.

  Carlotta did the same. ‘Where are the main concerns within Pajaro at the moment?’ Analysing problems in horses and ironing them out was her specialty. Her riding had taught her to learn the horse and then recognise the weaknesses and try to override them.

  Another man spoke up, looking through a large folder in front of him. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

  ‘And you are?’ asked Carlotta asked imperiously.

  ‘Chris Koch, General Manager of Retailing,’ the man answered.

  Carlotta looked him over. He was maybe 38 years old, perhaps even 40. Small, wiry, hirsute with a large nose, he was ugly, thought Carlotta, reminding her of a donkey. The cut of his clothes though was exceptional. Whatever he lacked in looks, he made up for in style. His navy suit was obviously made for him, she had seen Leon in similar suits. But Chris wore his with a panache not seen in New York men: a white cotton shirt, with French cuffs and a pocket square poking out of the breast pocket of the suit jacket. He was elegant but ugly and it annoyed Carlotta.

  She felt herself sneer at him. ‘Well Chris, tell me the top three things of concern right now.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘The main areas of concern are, and trust me there are a lot more than just three, but since you asked, these are the big ones I would flag.’

  Chris stood up and walked to a sideboard and pressed a button under the lip of the wood. A large electronic whiteboard came down from the ceiling and he opened the drawer in the sideboard and pulled out some markers. He pulled off the lid of a blue one and started to speak.

  ‘Growth is the first pressure,’ he said, writing it down. ‘Leon has opened over 700 stores with more slated for the next ten years. Some of these are running at a loss. There are too many within walking distance of each other and although we tried to convince him otherwise he wanted world domination with the Pajaro brand to be everywhere.’

  Of course he did, thought Violetta. Leon’s dominance was legendary in business, putting pressure on existing retailers in up and coming neighbourhoods until they caved, then the Pajaro swat team moving in to set up stores almost overnight.

  Chris continued, warming to having an audience and finally being heard. ‘The other issue is the garments themselves. Leon was sick of following the trends and decided that he wanted Pajaro to be a leader, not a follower. He threw out the design team and brought in expensive designers from Europe to create the new look. The thing is that he counteracted this by sending production offshore and slashed the fabric budget to make up for the astronomical amount he was paying the design teams. The clothes are cheap and not all of them are on trend. We get a lot of returns through faulty fabrics and zippers and the like. It’s costing us a bomb,’ he said, writing down the words stock, design and production on the whiteboard.

  Carlotta looked down at her Pajaro clothes – they seemed fine enough now but would they last more than a few washes, she wondered.

  ‘And the other problem is the general marketing and retailing experience. Leon was dead set against the Internet. We only got a website after we all revolted and demanded one. He is archaic when it comes to communication,’ he said, not caring if he offended any of his boss’s daughters.

  Grace almost laughed and then remembered the tragedy of everything that sat before them. Watching her father trying to use the computer to answer emails was painful, his one finger stabbing and him swearing at the machine like it was a subservient staff member. Her mother on the other hand loved the Internet for shopping, reading, emailing the girls. Technology never scared Birdie, she was constantly amazed about the uses of the web, calling Grace in raptures, the last time about a new gardening site she had found with rare seeds for propagating from some far flung region.

  Chris was still holding court. The sisters were intrigued. He was honest about Leon’s behaviour and smart about Pajaro's problems and seemed to genuinely care about what happened to the company.

  ‘The main issue here is… and I hope I don’t offend you about your father…’ he started.

  ‘Please, go right ahead,’ said Violetta, leaning forward. ‘There is nothing you can say about Leon that we haven’t heard, thought or experienced before, trust me.’

  She looked into his eyes and he smiled wryly.

  Chris nodded at her respectfully. ‘Leon was a dictator. A despotic leader, he ran this company with fear, and you cannot sell fashion and dreams with fear. He wanted to make his mark on the world and he did to a certain point, but recently he had become maniacal. Desperate and greedy. I have only been with the company for one year. I came from an exciting retailer, growing but managed carefully. Leon promised me the world and I believed him. He could be very persuasive sometimes.’

  Grace nodded her agreement. Leon’s charm could melt you and have you doing things you would regret, she thought, remembering her summer in Spain a long time ago. Shaking the memory away, she returned her concentration to Chris.

  ‘We all could have done better. We want to do better, to be real with you. You have some of the best retail brains in the world sitting in this room. Leon always chose the best, as you know, and yet none of us have been able to do our jobs.’

  Chris sat down, almost exhausted from his speech. He believed every word of it. The passion of Violetta and the support of her sisters and their family lawyer were almost inspiring. Perhaps, just perhaps, they had a chance to turn Pajaro around.

  Chris had come from a well-known chain store, not as big as Pajaro but twice as popular., and growing. He had wanted to ascend to the top and Leon had given him a huge promotion and a promise of carte blanche, which had failed to eventuate. Chris was already looking for new opportunities at other companies when the three sisters walked in. He was prepared for them to decide to sell and keep what was left of their fortune, but was surprised and impressed by the display of family unity before him.

  Leon rarely mentioned his daughters or wife unless it was to boast. Carlotta, he had heard of; she was the horse rider, and Leon liked to talk about her recent rides or prizes. Grace was mentioned when she was working with New York’s society doyennes or privileged people, and Leon would speak as though Grace was a part of that circle, not merely working with them at the auction house.

  Violetta he never mentioned, but then Leon didn’t have to. Violetta's exploits were well known, always on Page Six and society websites for the best-dressed lists, which Chris read regularly.

  Carlotta looked at Grace, who seemed daunted, and at Violetta, who now looked tired.

  ‘I would like some time with my sisters and lawyer before we talk further,’ she said. ‘If you can please give us a few minutes then we can resume the discussion when we have looked at our options.’

  The men dutifully filed out and waited in the hallway, Chris glancing behind him as he left the room, hoping he hadn’t gone too hard with his assessment of Pajaro and Leon's leadership.

  ‘What a fucking mess,’ said Carlotta, never afraid to speak with the colourful language of the stables.

  ‘I agree,’ said Grace. ‘He’s taken all the money. Has he taken Mummy’s money too?’ she asked Spencer.

  ‘No, she’s fine. I checked yesterday. He can’t touch that, fortunately. Letty, you really want to do this? If you sell you will still come out with enough for generations. Don’t worry about money.’

  ‘It’s not about the money, Spencer
. I don’t care about that. It’s about Birdie and what she wanted for Pajaro. This was her idea and Leon took it over and now look what’s he’s done. It’s as though she doesn’t even exist any more. I know this is a big ask of all of you. You, Carlotta to come away from your riding; you, Grace from a job you love. I get it, but I have to do this or at least try. Even if you decide to not help me at least don’t vote me out and sell from under me, give me a go.’

  As she spoke the tears ran freely down her face. Carlotta felt her eyes prick with tears and Grace openly sobbed. They realised that Violetta was not speaking to them any more; she was speaking to the ghost of Leon that hung over the boardroom and the company. This was everything she wanted to say when she asked Spencer to join the company.

  Grace sat quietly. ‘Cranfields can survive without me for a while. I’ll stay until Mummy wakes up.’

  Carlotta tapped her pencil on the table. Violetta and Grace looked at her expectantly. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Are you in?’ asked Violetta nervously. ‘I know it’s a huge thing for you, to be away from your horses.’

  Carlotta threw her head back, her auburn hair rippling. ‘Were you waiting for me? Of course I’m in, you idiots. Don’t worry about the horses. I’m bringing them down here. I was going to stay anyway, because of Mom. I suppose I should get a job, really. I can’t ride horses forever. I am not sure I have skills in fashion though. I mean look at me, today I am dressed like a waiter.’ She laughed at herself.

  Violetta and Grace laughed too and Spencer smiled at the connection between them again. These were the sisters he remembered from when they were young, before Leon and circumstances had divided them.

  ‘We can’t do everything, so I think we split up and take different roles in the company. I will look over design, if that’s OK with you?’ Violetta said.

  ‘Again, I use my waiter outfit to remind you that I have no idea about clothes, so whatever you want to do in that area is fine by me,’ said Carlotta.

  ‘Fine with me too,’ said Grace, her voice nervous.