In Plain Sight (Sisterhood #25) - Fern Michaels Page 0,66
friend to friend, with Amalie were cut short when both their cell phones buzzed at the same time. Annie looked at Myra, and Myra looked at Annie, then at the girls. “Abner needs us. Keep Amalie company while we see what needs to be done.”
“I hope it’s to discuss the tapioca banana pie I asked Fergus to make for dinner,” Kathryn said, smacking her lips.
“We’ll ask, dear,” Myra called over her shoulder. To Annie she said, “I don’t think Charles has ever made a tapioca banana pie before.”
“That’s why Fergus is making it.” Annie laughed. “He makes the best pies in the whole world. The crust just melts in your mouth. What do you think Abner wants? It’s not like him to summon us to the war room. As in you and me specifically.”
“I guess we’ll find out when we get there. I don’t think we should worry until we hear what he has to say.”
“I always worry, Myra, you know that. The minute I get a feeling something is not quite right, my worry button kicks on. I think I was born to worry.” To prove her point, Annie jabbed at the rosette carved into the mantel that would open the secret door that led to the dungeons and the war room under the house.
“Is there a problem, Abner?” both women asked breathlessly as they bolted into the war room.
“Depends. Take a look at this,” Abner said, holding out a stack of printouts.
“What is it?” Myra asked.
“Everything you ever wanted to know about the company called La Natural that Lincoln Moss took from virtual bankruptcy and turned into a billion-dollar juggernaut.”
“Oh my,” was all Myra could think of to say. “I really don’t understand all of this, can you just tell us, you know, a summary?”
“The short answer is the company is going down the drain. The decline started, I guess you could say, when Amalie lit out. I’ve been at this for the last two days, and I finally have it all together. He bought this run-of-the-mill company that as near as I can figure out, catered to cosmetics that teenage girls bought in drugstores. In other words, cheap stuff. He hired some top marketing guns and some wizard chemists, and suddenly the company is right up there, marketing-wise, with Chanel and La Prairie. He had it all repackaged, put in new machinery, renamed the company, and hired and married Amalie Laurent, a gorgeous French model who was starting to make a name for herself in the modeling world to be the new face of La Natural. He then quadrupled the price of the brand to go with the packaging and suddenly the whole world stood in line to buy the products he was producing. The only thing he didn’t do was change the actual product. It was the same product all those teenage girls were buying in drugstores.
“And when he married Amalie, and it was like Princess Diana all over again. The ad campaign he initiated with Amalie as the face of the company took off like a rocket. The ads were everywhere, TV, radio, billboards, magazines, the whole nine yards. He did not overlook one angle promotion-wise. The whole world wanted to look like Amalie Laurent Moss. You know the French. They called the couple the Princess and the Frog.”
“And then . . .” Annie said.
“And then he screwed up,” Abner said gleefully. He tried to . . . I don’t know how to explain this . . . he used old footage of some of the video Amalie had shot for promotions and dubbed in her person. Does that make sense? The new shoots were crude, and the media picked up on it. He pulled in his horns right away, then went with all stills. The other big companies started taking shots at him and his company while they redoubled their own advertising budgets with fresh talent.”
“So, the company couldn’t survive without Amalie is what you’re saying. It started going downhill when she left, and Moss couldn’t get the company back on track,” Myra said.
Abner clapped his hands together. “I hate that bastard. I got into his financials, and the man made billions, that’s with a B. The company now isn’t worth the packaging. He’s also taken some political hits here in town. Doesn’t matter if he’s the President’s best bud or not. To be honest, though, a lot of it is jealousy. I mean, get real, the guy could walk in and out of