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“Most of these trees predate the original house,” Stone said. “Arrington bought three or four other mature trees and had them
moved here to fill in any gaps. They seem to have taken root successfully.”
Arrington met them on the front porch, and introductions were made. “The photographer and crew from Architectural Digest just left,” she said to Stone. “They seemed to get everything they wanted.” She led the party into the house and gave them a quick tour of the ground floor-a broad hallway that ran through the house, with twin staircases on either side; a big drawing room and the dining room to the right; to the left the library and the kitchen at the rear of the house. When that was done she led everyone upstairs and showed them to their rooms, while staff delivered the luggage. She let everyone know that drinks would be in the drawing room at six-thirty.
“We’re at the end of the south wing,” she said, taking Stone’s hand. She led him into the master suite, a sunny sitting room and bedroom, with a dressing room and bath on each side.
“It’s gorgeous,” Stone said, looking around. “You were right: the house looks as though it has always been here and we’ve always lived in it. Except for my empty dressing room.”
“That will get filled as time goes by,” she said.
“I’m sure it will,” Stone replied.
“Now,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the canopied bed, “we have two hours until drinks, and you’re going to be very busy.”
In a moment, they were naked in bed. “God, how I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Stone said.
There was a knock on the door. “Mom?” Peter called, and tried to open it, but she had locked it.
“Later, Peter!” Arrington shouted back.
“The other houseguests have arrived,” Peter yelled.
“You’re appointed host. The butler will find them rooms.”
“How many bedrooms are there?” Stone asked.
“Ours, Peter’s, and five more,” she said, “but at the moment you may concern yourself only with this one.”
At six-thirty the whole group, including Mike Freeman, Bill Eggers and his wife, and Dino gathered in the large living room, and the butler, who was introduced as Somes, poured champagne for everyone, even the children.
“Just one glass for you three,” Arrington said. “With your parents’ permission, Hattie.”
“Just one,” Margaret Patrick said.
“Sure,” Dino echoed.
“Dino,” Stone asked, “maybe now would be a good time to deliver the mail?”
Stone and Dino each produced an envelope and handed it to his son. “We don’t know what the letters say,” he said.
Peter and Ben turned over the envelopes and inspected them.
“They haven’t been opened,” Dino said.
“We may as well,” Peter said, tearing open the envelope and reading the letter.
“Read it to us,” Stone said.
Peter held up the letter and read, “ ‘Dear Mr. Barrington, I am pleased to tell you that you have been accepted to the Yale School of Drama for the fall term. Your friend Mr. Bacchetti has been accepted, as well.
“ ‘I congratulate you both, and we look forward to seeing you this fall. You will receive a packet of information at a later date that you will need for enrollment and to help with arranging housing.’
“It’s signed by the dean,” Peter said.
“Mine says the same,” Ben said. Both boys stood there, looking astonished.
