 Audio Renaissance presents The Prodigal Daughter by Jeffrey Archer Read for you by Lorelai King President of the United States, she replied, I can think of more rewarding ways of bankrupting myself, said her father. Don't be frivolous, Papa. President Roosevelt proved that there can be no greater calling than public service. I realize it would be pointless for me to pursue such an ambition without your support. My sex will be enough of a liability without adding the disadvantage of a Polish background. Don't ever speak this loyally of the polls, he said. History has proved us to be an honorable race who never go back on our word. My father was a baron. Yes, I know, but he's not around now to help me become president. More's the pity, he said, sighing. He would have made a great leader of our people. Then why shouldn't his granddaughter? No reason at all, he said, as he stared into the steel-grey eyes of his eleven-year-old daughter. Florentina Rosnofsky's birth in 1934 had not been easy. But then for Abel and Zofia Rosnofsky nothing had ever been easy. Abel had wanted a son, an heir who would one day be chairman of the baron group. By the time the boy was ready to take over, the baron would be the largest hotel group in the world. Abel had paced up and down, twisting the silver band that encircled his wrist. He saw Dr. Dodeck heading towards him. Congratulations, Mr. Rosnofsky, you have a beautiful girl. Thank you, Abel said, trying not to show his disappointment. He followed the obstetrician to an observation window. The doctor pointed. Unlike the other babies, his daughter's little fingers were curled into a tight fist. Abel had read somewhere that a child was not expected to do that for at least three weeks. He smiled proudly, and once the infant had been installed in the nursery at the top of the house, Abel would spend hours watching her, knowing that he must work even harder than he had to ensure the child's future. Not for her the deprivation of his childhood, or the humiliation of arriving in America as an almost penniless immigrant. He had found a job in a butcher shop in New York, where he worked for two long years before filling a vacancy at the Plaza Hotel as a junior waiter. After four years he had reached the exalted position as assistant head waiter in the Oak Room, and had spent five afternoons a week pouring over books at Columbia University. Abel was not sure how his newly acquired degree could advance him, but the question was answered by a Texan called Davis Leroy, who had watched Abel serving guests for a week. Mr. Leroy, the owner of eleven hotels, offered Abel the position of assistant manager at his flagship, the Richmond Continental, in Chicago. Abel found that the manager, Desmond Pacey, was cooking the books, and presented to his employer a dossier containing all the facts. Davis Leroy immediately sacked Pacey, replacing him with his protégé, and when Leroy's sister put up for sale her twenty-five percent of the company's stock and Abel cashed everything he owned to purchase them, Davis Leroy appointed him managing director of the group. If only Davis had confided in him the extent of the group's financial trouble, who wasn't having problems during the Depression, they could have sorted something out. But informed by his bank that they required further security before they would pay next month's wages, Leroy retired to the presidential suite on the twelfth floor, opened the window, and jumped. Davis had bequeathed the remaining seventy-five percent of the Richmond Group's stock to his managing director. So after the funeral, Abel had visited Cain and Cabot, the Richmond Group's bankers in Boston, and pleaded with William Cain not to put the hotels up for sale. The smooth, cold man behind the expensive partner's desk had proved intractable. Abel would never forget the humiliation of having to call a man of his own age, sir, and still leave empty-handed. How could Cain not realize how many people were affected by his decision? Abel promised himself that he would get even with Mr. William Ivy League Cain. Abel had traveled back to Chicago to find the Richmond Continental burned to the ground and the— Sample complete. Ready to continue?