Fine things by Danielle Steel Read Free Book Online

He waved an impatient hand. “I don't need to tell you what needs to be done. It's an enormous responsibility, Bernard. It's a brand-new store, and the finest one we have, aside from New York.” In a way, it was a feather in his cap, but it was one he didn't want. Not at all.
    He stood up with a quiet sigh. It hadn't been such a great morning after all, and he was almost sorry he had come in now, even though it would have been handed to him eventually anyway. There was no avoiding it once Paul made up his mind, and it wouldn't be easy talking him out of it now. “I'll have to give it some thought.”
    “Do that.” Their eyes met and held again. And Paul was afraid of what he saw this time.
    “Maybe if I had a firm commitment that it wouldn't be for more than a year, I could live with it.” He smiled ruefully, but Paul couldn't promise him that. If the store wasn't ready to be handed over yet, then Bernard couldn't leave that soon, and it was unlikely he could, they both knew. It would take two to three years of tender loving care to get a new store settled anywhere, and Bernie just wasn't willing to commit to that long. And San Francisco didn't look all that great to him.
    Paul Berman stood up and looked at him. “You give it some thought. But I want you to know my bottom line.” He wasn't going to jeopardize losing Bernie, no matter what the board said. “I don't want to lose you, Bernard.” And it was obvious that he meant every word as Bernie smiled fondly at him.
    “And my bottom line is that I don't want to let you down.”
    “Then we'll both make the right decision, whatever it is.” Paul Berman stretched a hand out to Bernard and they shook hands. “Give it some very serious thought.”
    “You know I will.” And he sat alone in his office after that, with the door closed, staring out at the snow, feeling as though he had been hit by a truck. He couldn't even imagine living in San Francisco now. He loved his life in New York. It would be like starting all over again, and he didn't look forward to the prospect of opening a new branch store, no matter how elite and elaborate it was. It still wasn't New York. Even with the blizzards and the filth and the intolerable heat of July, he loved it here, and the pretty little postcard town by the bay had no lure for him. It never had. He thought of Sheila with a grim smile. It was more her style than his, and he wondered if he would have to buy his own combat boots to move out there. The whole thought of it depressed him horribly, and he sounded it when his mother called.
    “What's wrong, Bernard?”
    “Nothing, Mom. It's just been a long day.”
    “Are you sick?”
    He closed his eyes, trying to sound cheerful for her. “No. I'm fine. How are you and Dad?”
    “Depressed. Mrs. Goodman died. Remember her? She used to bake cookies for you when you were a little boy.” She had already been ancient then, and that was thirty years ago. It was hardly surprising that she had finally died, but his mother loved reporting things like that. And now she moved back onto him. “So what's wrong?”
    “Nothing's wrong, Mom. I told you. I'm fine.”
    “You don't sound fine. You sound tired and depressed.”
    “I had a long day.” He said it through clenched teeth …and they're moving me to Siberia again…. “Never mind. Are we still on for dinner for your anniversary next week? Where do you want to go?”
    “I don't know. Your father thought you should come here.” He knew that was a lie. His father loved to go out. He found it refreshing after the intensity of the work he did. It was his mother who always thought he should come home, as though to prove something to him.
    “How about '21'? Would you like that? Or something French? Cote Basque …Grenouille? …”
    “All right.” She sounded resigned. “‘21.’”
    “Great. Why don't you come to my place first for a drink, at seven o'clock? And then we'll have dinner at eight.”
    “Are you bringing a