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Peter rose as she entered and handed her the folder.
“Already finished?”
“Yes, ma’am. I put my birth certificate and my transcript in the folder, along with a recommendation from the headmaster.”
The doorbell rang, and the maid led in a man wearing a seedy cardigan and a necktie loose at the collar.
“Peter, this is Arthur Golden, our headmaster at Knickerbocker.”
Peter stood and offered his hand, noticing that he was taller than Golden. “How do you do, sir?”
“Sit down, sit down,” Golden said. “I’m not accustomed to good manners from students.”
“I’m afraid, Arthur,” Miss Covington said, “that Peter doesn’t know how to behave any other way.” She handed him the screenplay. “Read the first scene,” she said. “We’ll wait.”
Golden sat down, put on the glasses that hung from a string around his neck, and began to read. Finally he stopped and began asking Peter all the questions Miss Covington had asked him.
When Peter had dutifully answered them all, Golden looked at Miss Covington and nodded. “Peter, I’d like you to come to the school tomorrow morning, meet some people and have a look around. Please bring your parents, if you like.”
“I’d like that very much, Mr. Golden,” Peter replied.
“Don’t wear a jacket and tie,” Golden said. “You’ll frighten the other students.”
18
P eter ran into Stone’s office, breathless. “I think I got in!” he shouted. “Miss Covington was just great, and she made the headmaster, Mr. Golden, come up to her apartment to meet me!”
Stone helped him off with his coat and steered him to the sofa. “Sit down and take a few deep breaths,” he said, and got the boy a bottle of water from the fridge.
Peter gave him a blow-by-blow account of his meeting. “I’m going to the school tomorrow morning. They said you and Mom could come, too!”
“I’m available,” Stone said, “and I’m sure your mother is, too.”
That evening they attended The Lion King, which Stone liked much better than he thought he would, and they dined at Sardi’s. Stone explained the history of the restaurant, and they played at recognizing the faces in the caricatures hung in rows on the walls. Peter did better than Stone.
Later, as they climbed into bed, Stone pulled Arrington close to him. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too.”
“Good. Will you marry me?”
She pushed him back and looked at him. “Stone, are you just trying to make an honest woman of me?”
“Among other things. In addition to all the other good reasons for getting married, I don’t think Peter ought to have to explain our relationship to people.”
“What about this separate living in New York and Virginia?”
“That’s still to be negotiated, after we’ve settled the basic question.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, “gladly and with enthusiasm.” They kissed for a long time.
Finally, Stone broke free. “Wait right here,” he said, getting up.
“Did you think I was going somewhere?”
Stone padded across the bedroom to his dressing room, where he pushed back some suits and opened his safe. He felt around at the rear of the steel box until he found it, then he locked the safe, went back to Arrington, and handed her the box.
She looked at him, mystified, then opened it, revealing the ring inside, along with a matching diamond wedding ring.
