She knew the family history well enough. Her grandfather had set up in business with his best friend just after the Second World War, building quality cars that everyone could afford. Except then theyd both fallen in love with the same woman. Esther had chosen Jimmy McKenzie; in response, Barnaby Stone had dissolved their business partnership and left with all the equipment to go and start up another business, this time based on making factory-built cars. Jimmy McKenzie had started over, too, making his hand-built cars customisablejust as McKenzies still built their cars today.
On the eve of the wedding, Barnaby Stone had come back and asked Esther to run away with him. Shed said no.
Since then, the two families had never spoken again.
Until now.
If you could call a letter speaking.
Angel could see it from Brandons point of view. Buying McKenzies would salve his sense of family honour because then, although the grandfather had lost the girl, the grandson had won the business. It would also be the end of everything McKenzies did, because Stones would definitely get rid of their hand-made and customised process. She knew that Stones racing cars were all factory built, using robots and the newest technology; it was the total opposite of the hand-craftsmanship and personal experience at McKenzies.
Shed heard on the grapevine that Stones wanted to branch
out into making roadsters, which would put them in direct competition with McKenzies: and what better way to get rid of your competitor than to buy them out? No doubt hed keep the nameMcKenzies was known for high quality, so the brand was definitely worth something. Shed overheard her parents discussing it during the last recession, when Larry Stone had offered to buy McKenzies. According to her father, Barnaby Stone had been a ruthless businessman, and his sons and grandsons came from the same mould. She knew Max McKenzie was a good judge of character, so it was obvious that Brandon would asset-strip the business and make all her staff redundant.
No way.
She wouldnt sell her family business to Brandon Stone, not even if she was utterly desperate and he was the last person on earth.
And what did he really know about business, anyway? Driving race cars, yes: hed won a few championships in his career, and had narrowly missed becoming the world champion a couple of times. But being good at driving a racing car wasnt the same as being good at running a business that made racing cars. As far as she knew, dating supermodels and quaffing magnums of champagne werent requirements for running a successful business either. She was pretty sure that he was just the figurehead and someone else did the actual running of Stones.
Regardless, she wasnt selling. Not to him.
She flicked into her email program. In his letter, Brandon Stone had said he looked forward to hearing from her at her earliest convenience. So shed give him his answer right now.
Dear Mr Stone
No way is the McKenzies logo going on the front of your factory-made identikit cars. I wouldnt sell my family business to you if you were the last person on earth. My grandfather would be turning in his grave even at the thought of it.
Then she took a deep breath and deleted the paragraph. Much as shed like to send the email as it was, it sounded like a challenge. She wasnt looking for a fight; she was simply looking to shut down his attempts at buying her out.
What was it that all the experts said about saying no? Keep it short. No apologies, no explanationsjust no.
Dear Mr Stone
Thank you for your letter. My company is not for sale.
Yours sincerely
Angel McKenzie
She couldnt make it much clearer than that.
* * *
When his computer pinged, Brandon flicked into his email program. Angel McKenzie was giving him an answer already? Good.
Then he read the email.
It was short, polite and definite.
And she was living in cloud cuckoo land.
She might not want to sell the business, but McKenzies was definitely going under. Hed seen their published accounts for the last four years, and the balance sheet looked grimmer every year. The recession had bitten hard in their corner of the market. The way things were going, she couldnt afford not to sell the company.
Maybe hed taken the wrong approach, writing to her. Maybe he should try shock tactics instead and be the first Stone to speak to a McKenzie for almost seven decades.
And, if he could talk her into selling the company to him, then finally hed prove he was worthy of heading up Stones. To his father, to his uncle, and to everyone else who thought that Brandon Stone was just an empty-headed playboy who was only bothered about driving fast cars. To those who were just waiting for the golden boy to fail.
He glanced at the photograph of his older brother on his desk. And maybe, if he could pull off the deal, it would be the one thing to help assuage the guilt hed spent three years failing to get rid of. The knowledge that it shouldve been him in that car, the day of the race, not Sam. That if he hadnt gone skiing the week before the race and recklessly taken a diamond run, falling and breaking a rib in the process, he wouldve been fit to drive. Meaning that Sam wouldnt have been his backup driver, so he wouldnt have been in the crash; and Sams baby daughter wouldve grown up knowing her father as more than just a photograph.