“Don’t ask,” he said. “Ever.”
Kelli walked back to the elevator, fuming, and rode down to the lobby. She went outside and threw herself in front of a cab. “Eightyeighth and Second Avenue,” she said to the driver. All the way uptown she turned the thing over in her mind. By the time she got to Elaine’s she was determined to get to the bottom of this.
She walked in and was greeted by Gianni, one of the two headwaiters. She ordered a drink at the bar, then grabbed Gianni’s sleeve when he came back from seating a party. “Gianni, you know everything; who were those people with Dino and Stone the other night?”
“What people are those?” Gianni asked.
“A beautiful blond woman and a couple of kids, one of them Dino’s.”
Gianni looked at her evenly for a moment. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said.
She started to pursue it with him, but he stopped her.
“And let me give you some advice: don’t ask Elaine, either.” He walked away.
She turned away, her cheeks burning. Gianni knew who she worked for, so she was going to have to be careful, if she didn’t want to get eighty-sixed from Elaine’s.
A man came into the restaurant and sat down beside her at the bar. She cased him in the mirror: slicked-back black hair, Italian suit, cashmere overcoat.
“Hi,” he said to her, holding out a hand. “Anthony Cecchini.”
“Kelli,” she said, shaking the smooth hand. The guy was definitely not a stevedore.
“Kelli what?”
“Keane, with an ‘a’ and an ‘e’ on the end.”
“Buy you a drink, Kelli?”
“I’ve got one, thanks.”
“The next one, then.”
“Sure, why not.” He was kind of good-looking. “I perceive that you are Italian,” she said.
He laughed. “You’re very perceptive.”
“Tell me, Anthony, does the name Eduardo Bianchi mean anything to you?”
He froze. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked.
“Oh, around.”
He turned to the bartender. “Kevin, her next drink is on me,” he said, then he got up and moved to the other end of the bar.
Kelli was flabbergasted, and she didn’t flabbergast easily. What the fuck was going on here?
24
A couple of days after Christmas Stone was catching up on his corporate reading, when Joan buzzed him.
“A Mr. John Ellis, from Knickerbocker Hall, on one.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Stone Barrington.”
“Good morning, Mr. Barrington,” the man said. “I’m John Ellis from Knickerbocker.”
“Good morning.”
“I run a little office at the school that deals with keeping our budget on an even keel,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I’m afraid that running the school on tuition fees just isn’t possible, and we rely on the kindness of our alumni and the parents of our students to help us keep the ship upright.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Ellis?”
“I understand that when you took the tour last week you had a look at our film school facilities.”
“That’s correct, we did.”
“Perhaps you’ll recall that two of our three cameras were out of service.”
“My son certainly remembers that,” Stone said.
“Also, that our editing equipment needs updating.”
“He recalls that, too.”
“The school would be very grateful if you could manage a donation that could help us with the modernization of our film school.”
“I see. I expect you have a figure in mind.”
“We were hoping that you might think a donation of one hundred thousand dollars would be reasonable, given your very bright son’s deep interest in filmmaking.”
“Let me speak with his mother about it, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Of course, Mr. Barrington. Let me give you my direct line.”
Stone wrote down the number, hung up, and buzzed Arrington.
“Hello, there.”
“Are you awake yet?”
“More or less.”
“You recall that I mentioned that Knickerbocker might put the bite on us for a donation?”
“Yes, I recall.”
“Well, they’ve taken less than a week to get around to it. A Mr. Ellis just called and mentioned that their film school equipment badly needs upgrading. They’re looking for a hundred thousand.”
“I talked with Peter about their equipment,” she said. “From what he’s told me about the cost of such stuff, I’d think it would take half a million to make a difference for the film department.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Stone said, “but-”
“Oh, Stone, just tell Joan to write the check on my account and to bring it up to me for a signature. We should get signature cards for my accounts, too, so we can add yours.”
“As you wish, love.”
“See you at lunch.”
Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “Have you got Arrington’s checkbook?”
“Yes, she gave it to me when she got here.”
“She wants to make a donation to Knickerbocker Hall of five hundred thousand, and she’s asked that you write the check and bring it upstairs for her signature.”
“Will do.”
“Also, she wants me to be a signatory on some of her accounts. Ask her which ones and call them for the proper paperwork. And make her a signatory on my accounts, too.”
“Again, will do.”
Stone called back John Ellis.
“Yes, Mr. Barrington.”
“We’d like to make a donation of five hundred thousand, Mr. Ellis.”
Ellis’s voice lit up. “Well, that’s very generous, Mr. Barrington.”
“And we’d like your personal assurance that the entire sum will be spent on the upgrading of your filming and editing equipment,” he said, “and we’d like to do it anonymously.”
“Of course, of course.”
“The check will go out today.” Stone said good-bye and hung up before Ellis could enthuse further.
Stone and Arrington were having coffee after lunch. Peter and Ben had gone to the movies.
“I told Joan to get you put on all my accounts at Chase,” Arrington said. “Banking and investment.”
“If that’s what you want,” Stone said.
“We have to get something straight,” Arrington said.
“All right.”
“I don’t know exactly how much money you make, and I don’t care, but I don’t expect you to make gifts of half a million dollars from your own resources. We’re married now, and as far as I’m concerned, what’s mine is yours. We’ll have joint accounts on everything. I’ve asked Joan to get us new checks reflecting that.”
“I’d prefer to go on paying for everything I’m accustomed to paying for,” Stone said.
“Whatever you wish,” she replied. “Just know that we’re never going to have an argument about money. If you think we should give Knickerbocker another million, just write the check.”
“I would be very uncomfortable doing such a thing without consulting you first,” Stone said.
She kissed him. “I trust you completely,” she said. “I’m aware that in the year since you and Woodman amp; Weld have been handling my finances, my net worth has increased more than thirty percent. That would never have happened under my old arrangement.”
“Thank you.”
“I also spoke to Bill Eggers about making a new will,” she said. “He suggested that you might feel better if I worked directly with him on that, instead of involving you.”
“Bill was right,” Stone replied.
“I have an appointment with him this afternoon. I know there are major tax issues, and I want everything taken care of immediately.”
“I recall that you were never a procrastinator,” Stone said.
“Not now or ever,” she said, laughing.
Late in the afternoon, Arrington came into Stone’s office and handed him two blue legal envelopes. “Here is the original of my will and one copy. Isn’t word processing wonderful? We got the whole business taken care of in two hours.”
“I’ll put them in the safe,” Stone said, buzzing Joan.
Joan came in, and he handed her both envelopes. “This is the original and a copy of Arrington’s new will,” he said. He took off his signet ring and handed it to her. “Seal both with wax, write the date on the envelope, and put them in the safe. I don’t ever want to see them.”