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“There was another phone call from somebody at the Post, wanting information about Vance. I didn’t return it, but clearly there’s something afoot. I thought one way to stop it was to say that I’m writing a biography of Vance, to include a memoir of our marriage and his murder.”
“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Stone said. “Once you’re in the new house you’ll have time on your hands, and working again would be good for you.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Arrington said. “I talked with my old agent, Mort Janklow, and he thinks there would be a lot of interest in the book.”
“If you do it, you’re going to have to explain when Peter was born and why his name has been changed, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to tell anything but the truth.”
“I think you’re right, but by the time anyone saw the book, Peter would be older, when it might not matter. If I publish after he’s out of Yale and working at making movies, the publicity might even give his career a boost.”
“The boy wonder stories would run after he wasn’t so much a boy anymore,” Stone said, “and if we can keep a tight lid on it until then, it would be a stunner.”
“I’m glad we’re of one mind on this. Oh, and I had a call from the architect today. Completion date on the house is next week, and there are some last-minute decisions to be made that I have to be on-site for, so I thought I’d fly down tomorrow.”
“For how long?”
“Three weeks, maybe a month. I’ll have to get everything out of storage and moved in, and I want to send some of mine and Peter’s clothes up.”
“Don’t send anything he’s already outgrown,” Stone said. “I’ve bought him some new things, but he’s not done growing yet.”
“Good point. Maybe there’s no point in sending any of his things at all. I could give them to a charity down there.”
“That might be best,” Stone agreed. “I think I’ll move him to a larger room, too.”
“He’s going to have a lot of books and computer equipment,” she said.
“Then maybe the suite upstairs might be a good idea. It was intended for a servant couple when the house was built, and it’s empty, except for some things stored there. He’ll have a bedroom and a sitting room, and I could get some shelves and storage built in.”
“That’s the sort of thing he would love planning,” Arrington said, “so get him involved.”
“I wish his grandfather were still alive,” Stone said. “He could build everything and do a finer job than anyone I could hire.”
“It’s a pity they didn’t get to know each other,” Arrington said.
Stone got undressed and got into bed. He pulled her onto his shoulder, and she got out of her nightgown. “What am I going to do without you for three weeks?” he asked.
“Or a month. I suppose the way you got along without me for fifteen years.” She caught herself. “Well, maybe not exactly the way you got along without me. I can imagine the parade of women who’ve marched through this bed in the interim.”
“Well, I had to do something with my time, didn’t I?”
She snuggled closer and moved her hand to his crotch. “I suppose you did,” she said, “but it makes me jealous to think about them.”
Stone rolled on top of her and rested on his elbows, bringing their faces to within kissing distance. “I think I like you jealous,” he said, kissing her.
She reached down and maneuvered him inside her. “Stop talking, please, and start fucking.”
And he did.
The following morning he drove her out to Teterboro and got her settled on the G-III Gulfstream.
“I’m concerned about your having to see Timothy Rutledge again,” Stone said. “Is there any way to avoid that?”
“Not without firing him, and that would resound in the county, and not to my credit. Also, it would make him even angrier, and I don’t want to have to deal with that.”
“Be careful of him,” Stone said. “You’re right not to want to make him angry; I think he has serious anger issues.”
“I’ll be very correct with him,” she said, “but not friendly. I’ll keep it cool.”
“That’s the idea,” he said.
