Stronger Than Yearning. PENNY JORDAN
influential and wealthy people had horses in training at the Billington stables and Jenna knew that she ought to attend the party.
She was just drinking her mid-morning cup of coffee when Richard walked into her office, doing a brief double-take when he saw her there.
‘I thought you were working at home today?’
She remembered intimating to him that she might, and something in his manner puzzled her slightly. She sensed a certain tension about him as though, somehow, finding her in her office had thrown him a little.
‘Well, I came in instead. Now that I’ve bought the Hall, I’ve got to make some money to pay for it.’ She said it jokingly, but it was, of course, the truth, and saying it reminded her of something she wanted to discuss with him.
‘Richard, there’s a returned contract in my mail this morning from Victor James — I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t do that one? You know the reputation he’s got. He’s parted company with three designers already.’
Richard shrugged. ‘Well, he came on to me when you were away, virtually pleading with us to do it. The money’s right …’
Jenna frowned slightly.
‘Look, Jenna, you were away and a decision had to be made. I’m sorry if I made the wrong one but …’
Once again, she sensed a slight hostility in his tone, and then told herself that she was imagining it. No doubt he was on the defensive because she had queried his decision. Men hated their decisions being questioned by a woman, but she was the head of the company and if she had been here … But she could hardly blame Richard for her absence.
‘Well, it’s done now,’ she agreed, forcing a smile, ‘but no more contracts unless I’ve okayed them, mmm?’
‘You’re the boss. It’s the Billington bash tonight, isn’t it?’ Richard added carelessly, ‘Want me to go in your place?’
It wasn’t unusual for him to stand in for her at various social functions, but even though ten minutes ago she had been thinking of asking him to do so at this one, for some reason she found herself shaking her head.
‘No. I’ll go myself. What did you want me for, by the way?’
‘Oh … there’s going to be an unforeseen delay with the carpet for the Holmes contract — you remember it had to be specially dyed …’
‘How long a delay?’ Jenna frowned. As she remembered it, that carpet had been ordered months ago. The Holmeses’ daughter was getting married shortly, and when they had originally contacted Jenna some time ago, they had stressed that all the work must be finished in time for that event.
‘Six weeks … maybe eight …’
Jenna thought rapidly. That was far too long a delay.
‘Leave it with me,’ she said crisply, Richard’s presence all but forgotten, all her attention given to the new problem. ‘Thanks, Richard,’ she dismissed him briefly. I’ll have to try and sort something out. I want to talk to you about the new contracts we’re taking on, but I’ll arrange something later.’
Once he had gone, she buzzed through to Maggie and asked her to bring in the Holmeses’ file.
As she studied it, frowning, she turned to her own original notes, jotted down after her initial visit to the Holmeses’. They had been remarkably clear about what they wanted. They had just moved into a large 1930’s house in Wimbledon, previously owned by an Arab family, which in Helen Holmes’s view needed completely redoing. A pleasantly plump ex-general’s daughter in her mid-forties, she had know exactly what she wanted. Colefax & Fowler fabrics, Osborne & Little papers. In short, typically country-house furnishings, but her chief request had been for a carpet all through the house which would suit a variety of colours.
In the end she had settled on a very subtle shade of peachy-pink, which would have to be specially dyed, and aware of the delay which might arise, Jenna had put in hand immediate instructions for the order and dyeing of the carpet. Bierley’s was a company that she used regularly: completely reliable and producing a first-class result. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, aware of the beginnings of a tension headache in the base of her skull. She could already imagine Mrs Holmes’s reaction when she learned that the carpet might not arrive in time for the wedding. She picked up the file again, looking for the original order note. Although it might not do much good, at least if she could point out to the company doing the dyeing that they were way, way over the time limit agreed, it might help her to get rid of some of her tension. It was rather late in the day to find someone else to do the job now — especially someone reliable. Dyeing carpets to an exact shade as delicate as the one the Holmeses had chosen was a skilled business …
She traced through the file, locating the memos she had done putting various orders into effect, remembering briefly that she had been away for several days at the time the contract commenced, visiting a client in Spain who had just bought a villa there. A frown pleated her forehead as she looked at the date on her memo and then compared it with the date on the carpet order. Six weeks … why had there been that delay? It was a glaring error on their own part, and yet she could see no reason for it. Well, it was pointless crying over spilt milk, she reflected tensely, picking up her phone and asking Maggie to get the managing director of Bierley’s for her.
He was sympathetic when she explained her position to him. Yes, of course he could see that her client would want her carpet down for her daughter’s wedding, but, he explained, the delay was the usual one, the normal time-lapse between receiving an order and completion of it — three months, as it was in this case. However, he told Jenna much to her relief, because she was one of their better clients, and because they were presently just about to mix the dye for another large order which was not required urgently, he felt they might be able to reschedule things and get her carpet done in time. Thanking him Jenna hung up, and then frowning again she rang through to Richard’s office. His secretary answered the phone and put her through to him. Quickly she told him about the delay in the original order. ‘Obviously someone’s slipped up somewhere,’ she said crisply. ‘We can’t afford errors like that, Richard. Fortunately, the carpet will be ready in time after all, but its delay could have cost us the whole contract.’
There was a brief pause, and then he said heartily, ‘Well, thank God you managed to get it all sorted out. I can’t think what went wrong, although you know I’ve never been keen on your method of sending out memos. You know, I feel that we should each take on certain contracts and see them through to the finish instead of splitting the responsibility as we do now.’
Jenna let him finish and then said, ‘But if we did that, Richard, you would be my partner and not my assistant. People who use this firm as their designers are using it because of my reputation and have a right to expect me to be fully involved in what’s going on.’
She let him digest her comments and then rang off, still frowning. Problems with Richard were the very last thing she needed right now. Her phone rang, and Maggie informed her that there was a call for her. Banishing Richard from her mind, Jenna got back to work.
The backlog on her desk was far greater than she had realised: at least a dozen telephone calls were outstanding and there had been a rash of minor problems with their existing contracts that took time to sort out. Of course they would all happen now, just when she needed life to run smoothly, she reflected grimly, suddenly remembering something else she had to do, and jotting a note down on her pad to call in at a shop she knew, which specialised in reproduction mouldings for ornamentation and also copied or made up brass and wood motifs to order. She wanted to talk to them about copying the Adam plasterwork at the Hall which was badly damaged and also to discuss brass doorplates for the mahogany doors to match the Adam décor. Adam, she knew, would often use a central motif all through his work, so that it was echoed in minute detail all through a room. She reflected fleetingly that it was a pity there was no record of Robert Adam’s original designs for the new wing of the house, and then grimaced as the harsh purr of her phone broke into her thoughts.
It