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“Let me get back to you on that,” Stone said. He was currently driving an armored Bentley Flying Spur that Strategic Services had lent him.

“How about club memberships?”

“I don’t belong to a club.”

“Is there one you’d like? The Metropolitan? The Century? The Racquet Club? We have partners who could propose you for almost anything.”

“Let me think about that.” Stone had never thought of himself as a clubman.

“We can help with most of the golf clubs in the area, too.”

“That’s a thought.”

“You really ought to get yourself a place in the Hamptons, Stone. The firm has a very favorable mortgage program.”

“Thanks, but I’m all right with my place in Connecticut. Maybe at some later time.”

“As you wish. I’ll get these papers off to you right away.”

“Thanks, Bill, and thank you again for your support.”

Stone hung up feeling lighter than air. A partnership at Woodman amp; Weld! He had never thought it possible until recently, and now it had actually happened.

Manolo came and took his dishes away, then came back and presented him with an envelope. “A fax for you, Mr. Stone.”

Stone opened the envelope and found the partnership agreement. He read it through quickly, then signed it and set it aside for FedEx pickup. Then he read the note for Arrington’s line of credit, which was well drawn and required no changes. As he returned the papers to the envelope, a movement caught his eye. He looked up.

“Arrington!” he said. She was standing there looking gorgeous, as usual. He got up and met her halfway. “I wasn’t expecting you; why didn’t you let me know?” They hugged and kissed.

“I remembered last night that the Bel-Air is reopening tonight,” she said, “so I thought what the hell, good excuse to come out. We left early this morning.”

He held a chair for her. “Would you like lunch?”

“I had something on the airplane, which was a charter. There wasn’t time to send for the Centurion jet. You know, Stone. Maybe it’s time I got my own airplane. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“You’ll have to advise me on what to get.”

“I’ll be glad to do that and to get you more expert advice than I’m able to offer.”

“Can I afford it?”

“Arrington, you can afford anything your heart desires,” Stone replied. “By the way, I have the papers for your line of credit.” He opened the envelope and handed them to her.

“I think this is yours,” she said, handing back his partnership agreement. “And congratulations again.”

“Thank you; you helped make it possible.”

She glanced at the first page of the agreement. “A hundred million dollars!”

“You don’t have to borrow it all, just enough for the Champion deal and whatever else you want, like the airplane.”

“Do you have a pen?” She accepted one and signed the papers where Stone indicated.

Manolo came out with iced tea for both of them, and Stone handed him the partnership and line of credit agreements in the envelope, first writing the address on the outside. “Will you fax these, then FedEx the originals to New York, please, Manolo?”

“Of course, Mr. Stone.”

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