“I’ll fax you the partnership agreement in a few minutes. Everybody signs the basic agreement; then we can talk about compensation and other things.”
“All right.”
“I’ll find you some decent office space on our floors in the building.”
Stone thought fast; for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be expected to move into the Seagram Building offices of the firm. “Bill, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to continue working out of my office in Turtle Bay.”
“I guess that would be all right. What about your secretary?”
“I’ll stick with Joan. If I need more help, I’ll let you know.”
“We’ll give you an allowance for office space and staff, then, just to even things out with the other partners. I’ll base it on the square foot cost for the average partner’s space.”
“That will be fine.”
“There’ll be a generous expense account, of course, and I propose a draw against earnings of a hundred thousand a month, adjusted annually.”
“That will be satisfactory.”
“You can use your own airplane for travel whenever you wish. Let me know what the hourly operating costs are. For other travel, we have an in-house department that will make any necessary arrangements for you.”
“What other perks should I be asking for?” Stone asked.
Eggers chuckled. “Well, you already have a car.”
“Not really,” Stone replied. “I totaled it a month ago, remember?”
“I had forgotten. What would you like to drive?”
“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.”
“I’ve been making some plans, Stone,” Arrington said. “Let me tell you about them.”
“I’d like to hear them.” He sat back and morphed into his listening lawyer mode.
19
Arrington brushed a strand of her blonde hair from her forehead and took a long drink of her iced tea. “I haven’t told you about this,” she said, “and you haven’t visited, so you haven’t seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“My house.”
“I recall your saying that you were thinking of building.”
“That was years ago. I went a little crazy after Vance’s death. I had never had access to huge amounts of money, and Vance was-how shall I put it?-prudent. I looked for a big house in Virginia and didn’t find anything I liked, so I decided to build the house to end all houses, and I did. Twenty thousand square feet of it.”
“Wow.”
“Well, yes. I hired an architect and an interior designer, and I went on a shopping spree all over the South to find just the right pieces to furnish it. The local gentry were peeved, because I was denuding the antique shops in the county and running the prices up on whatever was left, but eventually, I got it done.” She sighed. “Perhaps ‘overdone’ would be a better word.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t, and I don’t want you looking through old Architectural Digests for the piece they did. So, for weeks now, I’ve been tagging pieces in the house, and I’m going to throw the biggest auction anybody in Virginia has ever seen. Sotheby’s is sending down an auctioneer. And-you won’t believe this-I’ve found a buyer for the house whose tastes are probably better than mine. I won’t get all my money out of the place, but I’ll get three-quarters of it and be happy to have it.”
“Where will you live?” Stone asked.
“At Champion Farms,” she said.
“I wasn’t aware there was a suitable house on the property.”
“There isn’t, but there used to be. It was contemporaneous with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, but it was destroyed by fire in the 1920s. A researcher has been able to find the original plans in the Charlottesville library-no one even knew they were there. So, I’m going to re-create the place on the original spot. It’s wildly overgrown, but there are beautiful trees, including a neglected colonnade of old oaks to the house. I’ll replace the damaged and fallen trees.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“It’s going to take all my time for the next two years, and then I’ll be looking for another project to keep me busy. I’ve learned that I’m dangerous when I’m not busy.”
Stone laughed. “I can imagine.”
“There’s something else: I want to talk to you about Peter.”
“All right, perhaps it’s time you did.”
“Peter is fifteen, and he’s at Episcopal High School, in Alexandria; it’s the best prep school in the South, on a level with the best New England preps. He is very, very bright, and he’s a grade ahead. He’s also very handsome, and tall for his age.” She retrieved a photograph from her purse and handed it to Stone. “For you.”
Stone stared at the boy-young man, really-and sighed. “He looks extraordinarily like my father.”
“I remember that photograph in your house,” she said. “Anyway, the school was reluctant to accept him at first, but then three of the senior faculty had a long lunch with him-I wasn’t present-and they were impressed with his maturity and seriousness, so they accepted him as a boarding student in the ninth grade. From what they’ve said about him so far, he’ll probably graduate in three years, maybe even two.”