At seven o'clock sharp, Sophia Fessey woke to the alarm's beep.
She went first to the next room to check on her son. They'd flown in from Europe to New York yesterday, and after the long trip the little fellow had said he felt unwell. She'd summoned the private doctor in the middle of the night; the examination found nothing wrong, and only then had she relaxed.
Gently brushing the boy's forehead, she stood by the bed, gazed at him contentedly for a moment, then moved on to see her daughter.
The two children were her entire world.
Yet she never indulged them without limits.
In Europe they'd been forbidden to sleep in past six; at seven sharp they had to be up. Now, newly arrived in North America and still jet-lagged, she would let the two little ones sleep until eight.
Her parents were already awake, old people always sleep very little.
She made breakfast with her mother and discussed buying her father a boat.
Of course it wouldn't be for fishing, but after a lifetime on the water he felt lost without a vessel. In Geneva he'd taken a small boat out on Lake Geneva every few days; before moving to America he'd asked specifically whether there was a lake near Greenwich. When told it was on the coast, he'd been delighted.
What had happened back then had left a rift between her and her parents, but so many years had passed she no longer felt resentment, or perhaps she never had. It was simply a clash of generations. Her parents loved her, even carried guilt, and she knew it; she cared for them too.
Only, true closeness was hard to show.
After breakfast she conducted two interviews herself; the household still needed a live-in maid and a governess.
When it came to hiring, especially for people who would care for her family, she was extremely cautious.
When that little man had first set his sights on her, she'd heard he'd investigated her thoroughly and had been displeased. Later, while managing his properties, she still insisted every maid and servant be vetted by a detective agency.
Once they knew each other better, she occasionally asked Janette whether all this was necessary. Janette told her a story Simon had related.
A couple had hired a maid and treated her like family, even lending her large sums, trusting she would care for their children in return. The maid, however, had a record of gambling and theft and had served time. To cover a theft she set a fire; the mother and two small children burned to death.
After hearing that, Sophia had the maid caring for her own parents and children investigated from top to bottom, then, still uneasy, checked again.
Luckily nothing was found.
This time was no different.
Before leaving for America she'd asked Gucci's U.S. head, Angela Ahrendts, to scout candidates. After careful selection only two remained: both white women with clean records and glowing references from previous employers.
Because the governess would be close to the children, she insisted the woman take a psychological assessment as well.
Naturally the salaries were generous.
Money, however, was no longer a concern. That little man might play the stingy boss, but he'd never short-changed her on pay.
She had invited Simon and Janette for lunch yesterday; as noon approached she began preparations again.
It being Sunday, neither Simon nor Janette had work, and at twelve sharp they arrived at the Fessey home. They brought gifts for the children: a Lego set for the boy and a beautiful white teddy bear for the girl.
The children, well taught by Sophia, thanked them politely without needing to be prompted.
Janette was clearly smitten; when she handed the bear to Gemma she couldn't resist scooping the little girl up for several kisses, looking for all the world like a doting aunt.
After greetings they moved to the dining Room.
A long table: Simon and Janette on one side, Sophia's family on the other.
Sophia served lunch herself, then sat opposite Simon. "There's still a mushroom soup on the way", she added.
Janette noticed Daniel looking listless and asked, "Danny seems under the weather, will he be all right?"
Sophia reached over to feel her son's forehead. "Just jet-lag; he'll be fine in a few days".
"Did you call a doctor?"
Sophia nodded. "Last night".
Seeing her son still drooping, she leaned over to tie his napkin, kissed his cheek, then sat back, ignoring Gemma, who had already tied her own napkin.
Watching, Janette felt a pang of envy; her own belly had yet to swell.
She glanced at Simon beside her and caught a flicker of the same longing in his eyes.
Under the table she poked him lightly in the ribs.
Simon started, shot her a what was that for look, then calmly picked up his utensils. Noticing Sophia's parents beside Gemma, he struck up a conversation.
Daniel and Gemma spoke English; the old couple spoke only French.
Simon switched to French.
In a few sentences Sophia's father was talking boats, warming to this young man of apparently high station who spoke to him so easily.
Simon had no love for yachts; he disliked the insecurity of drifting on the sea.
Still, he chatted knowledgeably, and before long mentioned last year's Antarctic trip while in Australia.
As Simon described the glaciers, penguins and midnight sun, Gemma's eyes shone. When he paused she looked expectantly at her mother. "Mummy, may I go to Antarctica?"
"Not a chance, you're far too small".
"Then next year?"
"Not next year either. At least, well, not until you're eighteen".
The little girl frowned, pondered, then asked, "Can I just skip to my eighteenth birthday next year?"
Sophia smiled and shook her head. "Birthdays must be taken one at a time".
Seeing her disappointment, Janette said, "If little Gemma likes, I'll have someone bring back video from Antarctica so you can watch penguins and glaciers on TV, maybe even the Aurora. Consider it your birthday present for next year".
Gemma glanced at her mother; receiving no objection, she nodded, then asked at once, "What's an aurora?"
"An Aurora, well, it's a beautiful light that hangs in the sky at night".
"Can we see one here at night?"
"Only at the South Pole and the North Pole, I'm afraid".
Janette finished, looking uncertainly at Simon for confirmation.
Simon nodded. "Only the South and North Poles have them".
The little girl's curious eyes fixed on him, persistent. "Why is the aurora only at the South and North Poles?"
Simon had no idea how to explain to her the business of solar particles being drawn to Earth's magnetic poles and excited into discharge. He lifted his chin toward Sophia across the table and passed the buck. "Ask your mother".
The little girl shifted targets. "Mama?"
"Sweetheart, Mama doesn't know either. When I figure it out I'll tell you, all right?"
The little girl nodded solemnly, turned back to Janette and reminded her, "Aunt Janette, Gemma's birthday is May nineteenth this year, and it'll be the same next year".
Janette couldn't help curving her lips. "Got it".
Hearing the aunt across the table settle next year's birthday gift with his little sister, Daniel lifted his gaze to Janette, then to his mother.
Sophia gently tugged the napkin from her son's chest and dabbed the corner of his mouth, smiling but offering no comment.
Before the shy boy could speak, Janette asked with a smile, "What would Danny like?"
The boy looked at Sophia again; only after catching his mother's encouraging glance did he say, "A train, a train with tracks".
Janette understood. "All right, next year Danny gets a train set, the kind whose tracks can fill an entire Room. So, when's your birthday?"
"July 23rd".
As he spoke, Daniel's eyes sparkled, though he glanced once more at his mother, a hint of guilt on his face, she had apparently refused this request before.
Sophia patted her son's head with a smile and raised no objection.
The scent of cream drifted through the air. Sophia remembered again. "Right, there's still the mushroom soup. Carry on".
With that she stood and headed for the kitchen.
A moment later she returned with the soup, set it on the table and began ladling it into small bowls.
She finished the first bowl and passed it to Simon. Perhaps because it was scalding hot, she let go a moment too soon as he reached out; the bowl tipped, pouring most of the steaming soup across the table and splashing his suit jacket and trousers.
The double layer on top protected him, but even in early autumn Simon still wore only one pair of trousers. The hot broth soaked through the fabric to his thigh, drawing an involuntary hiss.
A flurry of commotion followed.
After the two women had carefully wiped him down, Sophia, still seeing the mess on his clothes, felt awful. Remembering how hot the soup had been, she suggested, "Why don't you rinse with cold water first?"
Before Simon could answer, Janette nodded. "I'll do that. I'll call and have a new suit sent over".
With the women decided, Simon said nothing and followed Sophia upstairs.
Distraught, Sophia pushed open a door, then realized it was her own bedroom. Too late to change, she led Simon inside and to the bathroom. "Change… change in there".
The décor and the faint feminine scent told Simon this was indeed Sophia's bedroom.
An inexplicable surge of impulse rose in him.
The instant he stepped in he caught her wrist and pulled her inside.
Sophia let herself be drawn into the bathroom, watched him lock the door, then saw the fierce heat in his eyes as he turned; her heart clenched. She lifted a hand instinctively. "Simon, no, not here, not now".
She backed away as she spoke until her shoulders met the wall.
Looking at her frightened face, Simon's mind cleared. He shook his head hard, drew a deep breath, reopened the door and said quietly, "Go on out".
Sophia hesitated again, noticed the clarity returning to his eyes and relaxed. She stepped past him, paused and murmured, "I'll be in Manhattan in a few days, you know, for the Gucci event at Fashion Week".
Milan Fashion Week had ended, and the Gucci show in Italy was done.
For promotional purposes, though, the house would still stage a brand event in New York, much like the old Gucci Night, even without another runway show.
Simon heard her, paused and answered softly, his tone gentler. "Go on out. And… I'm sorry, I frightened you".
"It's…it's all right".
As she spoke, an odd tenderness welled up in her. She looked at the young man, brushed his cheek with her fingers, felt him stiffen, sensed at once it was inappropriate and quickly pulled her hand back. Without another word she turned and left.
Inside the bathroom Simon changed and rinsed with cold water; soon the estate sent over a fresh suit.
No one but Simon and Sophia noticed the brief interlude.
Lunch passed without further incident. The quick cold rinse, coupled with his robust constitution, left no after-effects.
After the weekend, October of 1990 arrived.
This trip to New York carried a heavy agenda.
Chiefly two takeover bids, especially the preparations for the Bell Atlantic acquisition, were in full swing.
If Matsushita's pursuit of MCA remained stalled, Simon planned to launch a tender offer for MCA in early November; once a letter of intent was signed he would move simultaneously on Bell Atlantic.
Buying a multibillion-dollar company, especially Bell Atlantic, subject to Federal Government telecom regulation, required enormously complex groundwork.
Even the preliminary stage demanded a law firm to scout legal obstacles and draft counter-measures, while an acquisition team sifted through Bell Atlantic's assets and liabilities to frame an accurate bid. After due diligence they had to craft a tailored takeover plan and contingency options for rival bidders or other surprises.
Raising the multibillion-dollar financing also needed cautious handling.
Throughout, secrecy was paramount. Giving the team barely a month was therefore extremely tight. Cersei Capital, Raybould Law, and a hired accounting firm had been working non-stop on Simon's two-pronged acquisition plan.
Yet if the deals succeeded, the combined tens of millions in advisory fees would make every ounce of effort worthwhile.