The Prodigal Daughter Read online

  Florentyna had confidently assured Richard that the Baron Group profits would be over forty-one million for 1974, whereas Lester’s would be lucky to touch eighteen million. Richard, however, had predicted that Lester’s profits would pass the Baron Group’s by 1974. She feigned disdain but knew that when it came to financial forecasts he was rarely wrong.

  Her thoughts floated back to Edward when the phone rang. Gianni di Ferranti wondered if she would like to see his new collection for the Paris show, which put her old classmate out of her mind until one o’clock the following Tuesday.

  Florentyna arrived at the Four Seasons a few minutes after one, wearing one of Gianni’s new dresses in midi-length bottle-green silk with a sleeveless jacket over it. She wondered if she would still recognize Edward. She walked up the wide staircase to find him waiting for her on the top step. She privately hoped she had aged as well as he had.

  “Edward,” she cried, “you haven’t changed a bit.” He laughed. “No, no,” mocked Florentyna, “I’ve always liked gray hair and the extra weight suits you. I wouldn’t expect anything less of a distinguished lawyer from my home town.”

  He kissed her on both cheeks like a French general and then she put her arm through his and they followed the maitre d’ through to their table. A bottle of champagne awaited them.

  “Champagne. How lovely. What are we celebrating?”

  “Just being with you again, my dear.” Edward noticed that Florentyna seemed to be lost in thought. “Is something wrong?” he inquired.

  “No. I was just remembering myself sitting on the floor at Girls Latin, crying, while you tore the arm off Franklin D. Roosevelt and then poured royal-blue ink over his head.”

  “You deserved it—you were a dreadful little show-off. FDR didn’t. Poor little bear, is he still around?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s taken up residence in my daughter’s bedroom and as he has managed to keep his remaining arm and both legs I can only reluctantly conclude that Annabel handles young men better than I did.”

  Edward laughed. “Shall we order? I have so much to talk to you about. It’s been fun following your career on the television and in the papers, but I wanted to see if you’ve changed.”

  Florentyna ordered salmon and a salad while Edward chose the prime rib with asparagus.

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “By what?” asked Edward.

  “Why a Chicago lawyer would fly all the way to New York just to see an hotelier.”

  “I do not come as a Chicago lawyer and I have no interest in talking to an hotelier. I come as treasurer of the Cook County Democratic Party.”

  “I gave one hundred thousand dollars to the Chicago Democrats last year,” said Florentyna. “Mind you, Richard donated one hundred thousand to the New York Republicans.”

  “I don’t want your money, Florentyna, although I know you have supported the Ninth District at every election. It’s you I want.”

  “That’s a new line,” she said, grinning. “Men have stopped saying that to me lately. You know, Edward,” she continued, her tone changing, “I’ve been so overworked during the last few years, I’ve barely had time to vote, let alone become personally involved. What’s more, since Watergate I found Nixon detestable, Agnew worse, and with Muskie a nonrunner, I was only left with George McGovern, who didn’t exactly inspire me.”

  “But surely—”

  “I also have a husband, two young children and a five hundred million dollar company to run.”

  “And what are you going to do for the next twenty years?”

  She smiled to herself. “Turn it into a billion dollar company.”

  “In other words, just repeat yourself. I agree with you that McGovern and Nixon—one was too good and the other too bad—and I don’t see anyone on the horizon who excites me.”

  “So now you want me to run for President in ’seventy-six?”

  “No, I want you to run for Congress as the representative of the Ninth District of Illinois.”

  Florentyna dropped her fork. “If I remember the job specification correctly, it’s an eighteen-hour day, forty-two thousand five hundred dollars a year, no family life, and your constituents are allowed to be as rude to you as they like. Worst of all, you are required to live in the Ninth District of Illinois.”

  “That wouldn’t be so bad. The Baron is in the Ninth District, and besides, it’s just a stepping-stone.”

  “To what?”

  “To the Senate.”

  “When the whole state can be rude to you.”

  “And then the Presidency.”

  “When the rest of the world can join in. Edward, this is not Girls Latin and I don’t have two lives, one which can run my hotels and one—”

  “And one in which you can give back some of what you have taken from others.”

  “That was a bit rough, Edward.”

  “Yes, it certainly was. I apologize. But I have always believed you could play a role in national politics, as you did once yourself, and I feel the time is right, especially as I’m convinced that you haven’t changed.”

  “But I haven’t been involved in politics at a grass-roots level, let alone a national level, for years.”

  “Florentyna, you know as well as I do that most people in Congress have neither your varied experience nor your intelligence. That goes for most Presidents, come to think of it.”

  “I’m flattered, Edward, but not convinced.”

  “Well, I can tell you that a group of us in Chicago want you to come home and run for the Ninth District.”

  “Henry Osborne’s old seat?”

  “Although the Democrats won it back in ’fifty-four, we have never had a large enough majority to feel confident when we had to select a new candidate to ward off any strong Republican challenge.”

  “Daley wants a Polish woman?”

  “Daley wants the woman Time said ran behind only Jackie Kennedy and Margaret Mead in the nation’s esteem. Daley likes winning.”

  “You’re mad, Edward. Who needs it?”

  “I suspect you do, Florentyna. Just give me one day in your life; come to Chicago and meet the people who want you. Express in your own words how you feel about the future of our country. Won’t you at least do that for me?”

  “All right, I’ll consider it and call you in a few days. But I warn you, Richard will think I’m nuts.”

  On that count Florentyna turned out to be wrong. Richard had arrived home late that night after a trip to Boston and he told her over breakfast the next morning that she had been talking in her sleep.

  “What did I say?”

  Richard stared at her. “Something I have always suspected,” he replied.

  “And what was that?”

  “‘I want to run.’”

  Florentyna made no reply.

  “Why did Edward want to see you for lunch so urgently?”

  “He wants me to return to Chicago and run for Congress.”

  “So that’s what brought it on. Well, I think you should consider the offer seriously, Jessie. For a long time you’ve been critical of the fact that competent women don’t go into politics. And you’ve always been outspoken about the abilities of those who do enter public life. Now you can stop complaining and do a little more about it other than when elections come around.”

  “But what about the Baron Group?”

  “The Rockefeller family managed to survive; no doubt the Kane family will get by somehow. In any case, the Group now employs twenty-seven thousand people, so I imagine we can find ten men to take your place.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kane. But how do I live in Illinois while you’re in New York?”

  “That’s easily solved. I’ll fly to Chicago every weekend. Wednesday nights you can fly to New York and now that we know that Carol will never leave us, it shouldn’t be too unsettling for the children. When you’re elected, I’ll take the shuttle down to Washington Wednesday nights.”

  “You sound as though you’ve been thinkin