“Your letter worked?” she asked, incredulous.
Teddy handed her the newspaper, folded back to the ad.
“I don’t believe it,” she said.
“Neither do I,” he replied, “at least not yet. We’ll give it a while, and if we have no further problems, we’ll pick us a spot and go live happily ever after.”
“And if we have further problems?”
Teddy sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
Stone was still working on the Times crossword when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” A woman’s voice, silken.
“Yes?”
“This is Milly Hart.”
“Good morning, Ms. Hart,” he said.
“I would be pleased if you would come to lunch today at my apartment, if you’re available.”
“May I bring my colleague?”
“I would prefer to see you alone.”
“I’m available.”
“One o’clock, then?”
“One o’clock.” Stone hung up, got out of bed, and went into the living room, where Dino was reading the Wall Street Journal. Dino had become interested in financial matters after the multimillion-dollar divorce settlement arranged by his former father-in-law, Eduardo Bianchi.
“Who was on the phone?” Dino asked.
“Milly Hart.”
Dino looked surprised. “Yeah? That sounds interesting.”
“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied. “She invited me to lunch.”
“Just you?”
“I asked if I could bring you-she said no.”
Dino smiled. “She’s going to jump your bones.”
“I doubt it,” Stone said, “but I think she may have something to say. I wanted you to know up front that it wasn’t my idea to see her alone, it was hers.”
“It’s okay, pal,” Dino said.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure. Anyway, there’s a movie on HBO I want to see.”
“Okay,” Stone said.
Stone presented himself at the Watergate apartments at five minutes past the hour, and the maid was waiting for him when he got off the elevator. She showed him into the living room, where Milly Hart was sitting on the sofa, just as last time, in another beautiful peignoir. She offered him a hand and patted the sofa next to her. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Barrington,” she said.
“I never turn down a free lunch,” Stone replied, sitting.
“Marilyn,” she said to the maid, “you may have the afternoon off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said, smiling. She disappeared.
As soon as she left, there was a knock on the door from the foyer.
“Come in,” Milly called out.
The door opened, and a waiter pushed in a room service table and set it up before the windows overlooking the river.
“Come,” Milly said, leading Stone to the table. “I believe you’re feveet ond of lobster salad,” she said, waving him to his seat.
“You’re very well informed,” Stone said, surprised.
“It’s Washington,” she said.
Stone laughed. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry I had to cut our first meeting short, but you hadn’t called ahead, and I had another engagement.”
“I believe I bumped into your engagement as we got off the elevator.”
“Did you,” she said, but it wasn’t a question. She poured them each a glass of a good white Burgundy, and they raised their glasses. “To truth and justice and the American way,” she said.
Stone smiled and sipped his wine.
“I take those things very seriously,” she said, popping a morsel of lobster into her mouth.
“Is that how you were brought up?”
“Well, yes, but it was my late husband, Senator Hart, who instilled those values in me in a more permanent way. Since he died, I have hated injustice in its every form, and I always tell the truth.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth today?” Stone asked.
“I am, to the extent that I know it.” She sipped her wine. “Tell me, what have you heard about me?”
“That you come from good stock, that you married a good man, but one who left you in dire straits.”
She smiled broadly. “And that I was forced to take money from men as a result?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m afraid the truth is more shocking than that,” she said.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” Stone said.
So she told him.
25
“Only some of what you have heard is true,” Milly Hart said. “I did come from good stock. I am well educated, hold a master’s degree in English literature from Mount Holyoke College. I did marry a good man, and he did die sooner than I would have wished, but he did not leave me in dire straits.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Stone said.
“He left me quite well off, in fact: a little more than six million in securities, two small office buildings that produce a very good income, an apartment in New York, and a house in Virginia. And in the ensuing years I have improved my positions in almost everything, thanks to good advice from good friends.”
She took a sip of her wine. “And,” she said, “I have never taken a penny from a man for sex.”
Stone didn’t know what to say.
“I do have … relationships,” she said, “and quite often more than one at a time. You see, when I married the senator we formed a tight physical bond and we enjoyed a very active sex life, so much so that, when he died, I found myself sharply wanting that to continue.” She took another sip.
“Please go on,” Stone said.
“The most difficult thing was that I was suddenly a widow and expected not to form attachments with men for quite some time. Fortunately, someone came to the rescue: a marrieeveeth is mod man.”
“I see,” Stone said, though he didn’t quite.
“I couldn’t be seen out with men, and of course he couldn’t be seen out with women, so we met here and … at other places.” She polished off the last of her lobster and took a gulp of wine. “His name was Brixton Kendrick.”
Stone scooped up the last of his lobster and kept his mouth shut.
“Brix understood me, and he knew that because of his marriage and his work, he could not offer me the kind of attention I required-that is, enough attention. So he suggested I take other married lovers. He even suggested one or two.”
Stone sipped his wine, entranced.
“The gentleman you encountered when you got off the elevator yesterday is one of them, and one of the nicest. We see each other once a week, always varying the day, and we enjoy ourselves.”
“I don’t know how many there are,” Stone said, “but they are very fortunate men.”
She colored slightly. “That’s very kind of you, Stone,” she said.
“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Stone said. “You are a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I am aware of your situation,” she said. “In fact, I knew and liked Arrington. My Virginia home is not far from the house she built. I was invited to her housewarming on that day, but I had other plans in New York and had to send my regrets. That was a terrible day for you, I know, and I understand how you must have been feeling during the months since that time.”
“Thank you,” Stone said.
“I find you a very attractive man,” she said, standing. Her peignoir had fallen open, and her body was exposed its whole length.
She was a real redhead, Stone noted. He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her, and the peignoir fell to the floor.
“Come,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into her bedroom, a large sunny place with a bed that was already turned down. She did not bother to close the curtains, she simply lay on the bed and watched him, smiling, as he undressed.
In his arms she was luscious and ready, and she welcomed him with all her charms.
An hour later, both of them spent, they lay beside each other. Then she got out of bed, left the room, and returned, still naked, with half a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. They piled up the pillows and sat back, sipping the cold wine.