“Maybe you’re right,” Stone said. “What do you think of Allison?”
“I like her,” she said. “She sat right down and did that dirty job you gave her, and I never heard a peep of a complaint. I think she’s very smart, too.”
“Woodman amp; Weld wouldn’t have hired her if she hadn’t been both smart and highly qualified. The firm is among the two or three most desirable for graduates among all the New York firms.”
“Do we keep her, then?”
“I have the feeling she’ll move up pretty rapidly. Let’s keep her out of the Seagram Building for as long as we can.”
Joan smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“Peter and I are going down to Virginia this weekend for Arrington’s housewarming, so scrub my calendar for Friday and Monday.”
“Will do. How did Peter’s Saturday date work out?”
“It worked out just fine, thanks. She’s smart as a whip, a terrific pianist, and he’s smitten.”
“Ah, young love.”
“Speaking of young love, I’d better get back in there, before Herbie and Allison end up on my sofa.”
“Go.”
Stone went back to his office and found Herbie and Allison talking rapidly and laughing. As he sat down his phone buzzed. “Bill Eggers for you,” Joan said.
“Why don’t you take Herbie to your office, Allison?” Stone said, then picked up the phone. “Morning, Bill.”
“Good morning, Stone. I just got an invitation to Arrington’s housewarming, and we’re planning to go. Mike Freeman has asked us to fly down with him on Friday, and we’ll come back Sunday afternoon.”
“Great. I’m glad you can make it. By the way, Bill, I’m impressed with Allison Wainwright. Thanks for sending her to me.”
“You’re welcome, but the reason she’s there is because of a contretemps with one of the partners, who shall remain nameless.”
“Let me guess: he made a pass at her?”
“Without confirming or denying that, you are very perceptive. He’s already looking for work elsewhere, and when he’s gone I’ll want her back.”
“Then you’ll have to fight me for her,” Stone said. “Joan likes her, too, and that’s not easy to come by.”
“We’ll see,” Eggers said, “and we’ll see you on Friday in Virginia. Arrington is putting us up, and Mike, too.”
“See you then.” Stone hung up as Herbie came back in.
“Allison is very nice,” he said.
“When’s the wedding?” Stone asked.
“Oh, come on, Stone. I’m not that bad.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Stone replied.
Herbie turned red. “Well, we are having dinner this weekend.”
Stone laughed.
46
O n Friday morning Stone went down to his office, and Joan handed him a letter for Peter from the Yale School of Drama.
“I wanted to open it,” she said, “but I didn’t.”
Stone called Dino. “Did Ben get a letter from Yale this morning?”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “but I haven’t given it to him yet. Eduardo called, though, and said there would be good news today.”
“Peter got his today, too.”
Early Friday afternoon, Stone packed Peter and Ben and their luggage into the car and drove out to Teterboro. The Patrick family met them in the lounge at Jet Aviation, and they walked to the ramp just outside, where the Mustang awaited them. There was half an hour of stowing luggage and doing a preflight inspection, and Peter walked around the airplane with Stone, as he pointed out various items for inspection.
Stone settled the Patricks and Ben in the four rear seats, and put Peter in the copilot’s seat, then he closed the door, gave the group a briefing about seat belts, the emergency exit, and oxygen masks, buckled himself in, and started through his checklist. Peter followed him with the copilot’s copy, and Stone pointed out each item on the instrument panel as he checked it. Finally, Stone called the tower for his clearance, wrote it down, entered the route into the flight computer, and got permission to taxi to runway one. Stone talked Peter through the whole procedure, then, when they were cleared for takeoff, explained what was going to happen. He pushed the throttles all the way forward and started down the runway. A minute or so later, at two thousand feet, they were handed off to New York Departure and began their climb.
“I want to learn how to do this,” Peter said.
“When you’re a little older,” Stone replied. “In the meantime, you can read the flight and avionics manuals.”
“I want to learn now,” Peter said.
“You’re learning how to fly to Virginia now,” Stone replied. “In two or three years, you’ll be able to do it yourself. Learning to fly goes better when you have a reason to have an airplane. You’ll be at university, and you won’t need to fly anywhere for a while.”
“Oh, all right,” Peter said. “Can I talk on the radio?”
“Listen on the way down, and you can do the radio work on the way back. Radio procedure is an essential part of flying, and the key to it is to know what the controller is going to say next. Soon, we’ll get a clearance to a higher altitude, so you can expect that.”
The controller called and cleared them to their cruising altitude of thirty-four thousand feet, and Stone showed Peter how to change the altitude in the autopilot and start the climb.
“The autopilot really flies the airplane, doesn’t it,” Peter asked, “and you just tell it what to do?”
“Correct, but you also have to be able to do everything manually, if the autopilot fails for some reason.”
“Has it ever failed?”
“Not in this airplane, yet, but in my old airplane I once had a complete electrical failure and had to hand-fly it into Teterboro, using a handheld radio.”
“Wow,” Peter said.
“They don’t often let you do a visual approach at Teterboro,” Stone said. “They like everybody lined up on the instrument approach. I had to declare an emergency to get permission for a visual that day.”
An hour later they were descending into Charlottesville, and once on the ground they taxied to Arrington’s hangar, where the Gulfstream was kept. One of the pilots was waiting for them with a large van. He stowed their luggage and drove them to the house, forty minutes away, while a worker put the Mustang into the hangar with the G-III.
There was a buzz in the van when everyone saw the driveway, lined with a dozen huge oak trees on each side, and at the end, the house, perched on a little rise.
“This is very impressive,” Sean Patrick said.
“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.”