shout, “Quiet!” to a group of people who could care less.
Leana found herself envying them.
At five minutes to four, filled with nervous tension, feelings of insecurity and thoughts of pending failure, she went to the ladies’ room that was across the hall. Each of the three stalls was occupied. As she turned to wash her hands in the marble vanity, she glimpsed herself in the mirror before her. She was very much a young woman whose appearance gave the cool impression of professionalism, but whose eyes revealed a hint of intimidation and fear.
Although Leana hated to admit it, she wished she was at Redman International now and working with her father.
She left the bathroom and returned to her seat in the reception area. At precisely four o’clock, the secretary came for her. “We’re ready, Miss Redman.”
Leana left her seat. Her shoes clicked on the marble-tiled floor as she followed the woman down a long corridor. This isn’t going to work. He’s going to see right through me.
But then she remembered all those years of wanting to prove to her father that she could become a success and neared the office with a feeling of determination. Once, as a child, she overheard George telling Celina that if she worked very hard, the world could be hers. Why can’t that apply to me?
They entered the office. Leana stood behind the secretary and took in the room. A painting of a young couple hung above a fully stocked bar; an elaborate model of a future high-rise was near a Ming vase; through the wall of windows to her right, she could see The Redman International Building, towering like a beacon in the afternoon sun.
Leana’s gaze lingered on her father’s building for a moment before she turned to the man seated across the room at the enormous mahogany table. His back was to her. The secretary said, “Leana Redman to see you, sir.”
Louis Ryan turned in his chair and faced George Redman’s daughter.
Their eyes met. In each other, they saw the future.
Smiling, he stood. “I’m glad you could come, Leana,” he said. “Last night, Harold Baines was kind enough to miss a dinner engagement with your sister so he could tell me about you.” He motioned toward the chair opposite him. “Please sit down?”
Leana did. And the meeting began.
“I don’t believe in wasting time,” Louis said. “So, I’m going to come to the point. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I prefer getting to the point,” Leana said. “It’s why I’m here.”
She watched him move to a window that looked uptown. He pointed at a tall structure cocooned in scaffolding. “Are you familiar with the new hotel I’m building on the corner of Fifth and 53rd? That’s it over there.”
Leana nodded. “Once finished, it’s supposed to be the city’s largest.”
“That’s right,” Louis said. “And I bet it pisses your father off that I’m its owner and not him.”
“I have no idea what my father thinks.”
“Oh, come on,” he said.
“Sorry. I wouldn’t know.”
“Of course, you do. Your father makes it a point to own the biggest and the best of everything in this city. All of New York knows that. He must be furious that soon I’ll be running the largest hotel in Manhattan, not him.”
“What does any of this have to do with me, Mr. Ryan?”
“It’s Louis,” he said. “And I’m getting to that.”
He walked to his desk and sat. He lit a cigarette, exhaled and looked at Leana through the screen of gray- blue smoke. “You don’t get along with your father, do you?”
Leana met his unwavering gaze with her own. “That’s none of your business.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s not exactly a secret.”
She let a silence pass.
“How old are you, Leana?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And your sister?”
She hesitated. “Twenty-nine.”
“That isn’t much of an age difference.”
“I guess it isn’t.”
“Last night, Harold told me that Celina was just a young girl when your father began taking her to board meetings at Redman International. He neglected to say how old you were.”
“That’s because my father never took me to board meetings at Redman International.”
“Really?” he said. “That’s odd. Certainly you must have worked there at some point.”
“No,” Leana said. “Never.”
“So, you didn’t have interest in the family business?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
She knew he was trying to get her angry, but she didn’t understand why. “I guess I’m saying that my father didn’t want me around.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Are you incompetent?”
“Are you serious?”
“Isn’t it true that, in your father’s eyes, you never could quite compare to Celina? That you didn’t measure up? Isn’t that why you were shipped off to Switzerland all those years?” He shrugged. “Isn’t that why you got addicted to cocaine?”
Leana stood. “You can go to hell.”
“I probably will,” Louis said. “But while I’m still on this earth, you’d better let me help you while I can. Now, sit down and cut out the sulking bullshit.”
Leana left for the exit. What was Harold thinking sending me here?
Louis waited for her to cross the room and grasp the door handle before he called out to her. “I could put you on top, you know. I could make you the envy of this town, bigger than your sister Celina ever could hope to become.”
The temptation was great, but Leana opened the door and left the office. She wouldn’t be treated like this by anyone.
She moved down the hall toward the wall of elevators, passing the same groups of men and women she envied earlier but no longer envied now. Some seemed to recognize her along the way and she sensed them staring, as if they were wondering why George Redman’s daughter was here, of all places.
Behind her, a door opened. And then his voice: “Leana.”
She was on the cold rails of her control now, making steady progress toward the elevators.
“Leana.” There was a new note in his voice. “Please come back so we can talk. There was a reason for what I said.”
She turned to him. He was standing just outside his office, smiling a smile that was not sarcastic, but apologetic. What in God’s name do I want this bad?
When she returned to his office, she found him fixing them a drink at the bar. Ice rattled as he poured what looked like vodka into two short glasses. He tried to hand her one of the glasses, but put it on the counter when she refused it.
“I meant what I said, you know. I can-and will-put you on top.” He took a drink. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He raised a hand. “No need to answer-I can see it in your eyes. You’re angry as hell and I can’t say that I blame you. Your father gave your sister the world and he left you with nothing. It hurts. I get it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
