‘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.
‘What can I do?’ asked Carlotta to Spencer.
‘I think you should work with Chris and perhaps try to decipher what is happening at the top level and report back to Violetta. Strategy type of a thing.’
‘OK, I have no idea what that is, but I guess it will keep them honest if I am there, or at least I hope so.’
Grace picked at her thumbnail, her eyes downward. Violetta looked at her. ‘Gracie, we are going to need your skills in marketing, I think. You’re a guru at that stuff. Look what you did at Cranfields.’
‘I don’t know how to market fashion though. It’s not real marketing at Cranfields, it’s just making it look nice and selling the auctions,’ said Grace, silently cursing the useless Tylenol.
‘What do you think this is? Just replace the old dusty items at Cranfields with our clothes. Sell the dream, Gracie. I know you can do it. All the numbers and marketing crap, that’s why you have a team. They can tell you what you need to know. This is where we need you. You are so like Mummy in her tastes and understanding for how things should look, you get it. Let’s return Pajaro to her dream when she started it.’
Grace looked up. What Violetta had said made sense, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified. She took in a deep breath. ‘OK, I’ll try.’
The girls looked at each other and smiled, then each put out a hand and placed one on top of the other.
‘Trinity,’ they all said together, an old superstition from childhood coming back to them. Trinity was what Birdie had called them when they were small. ‘Here comes the Trinity,’ she would say, as the girls toddled up to her.
They became so used to the term, they used it whenever they decided that they were all in on something. It had been a long time since they had said it but each one of them felt good saying it after all these years.
The Trinity was back.
5
Birdie, New York – 1983
Birdie walked around the house on the estate. She felt like a prisoner there sometimes. She was so far away from the city, so far from Georgia. Leon was always in New York. All she had for company was Thea, the housekeeper, who kept to herself most of the time. Birdie glanced in the gilded mirror as she passed it. She looked fine, a little older but still quite pretty, she thought, without a hint of arrogance. Birdie was many things but not arrogant. Passionate, vibrant, creative – well, she used to be creative, she thought to herself. Leon had taken over Pajaro as soon as it had turned its first profit.
Now she was at home, waiting to become pregnant. A seemingly impossible task when Leon was so rarely home. Birdie pulled on her heavy Ralph Lauren trench coat and slipped on her walking boots and walked out the front door into the cold air. Snow soon, she thought, as she looked up at the threatening clouds.
Wandering up the driveway towards the front fence, she looked at her horses in their winter coats in the fields. It was a beautiful estate and she had almost the perfect life there. And a baby would make it perfect, she thought to herself.
She hadn’t minded when Leon had taken over her idea and borrowed the money from her parents to start Pajaro. Spencer had been gracious and insisted she get a contract drawn up in her favour. Leon had baulked but Spencer had been firm and Birdie stayed out of the negotiations. She just wanted to design.
Dina had been another story though. She and Birdie hadn’t spoken when Leon had pushed Dina out of the picture early on, and Birdie missed her. She had few friends in New York and she was sure the doyennes of society were laughing at Birdie with her Southern ways and dress sense. So she retreated and stayed at the estate.
As Birdie got towards the mailbox, she saw a large envelope sticking from it addressed to Mrs de Santoval. She pulled it from the box and few smaller envelopes fell onto the ground. She stuffed the smaller ones into her pocket and struggled to open the larger envelope with her cold fingers. As she pulled the letter out something fluttered to the ground. She reached down and picked it up. It was a photo of a baby. A sickly, small child. She turned it over and saw the word ‘Matthew’ written on the back.
Not recognising the baby, she read the letter.
This is your husband’s child. He has been having an affair with me for the last two years. He must recognise his baby as his own or else I will take him to court. I have no other options now, so please speak to him and ask him to do the right thing by his own flesh and blood.
Melanie Sanger
Birdie fell to the ground. Oh Leon, she thought, you’ve broken my heart.
6
