Dirt

Chapter 15

Amanda opened the door, and Stone was very taken with what he saw. Before him was just about the most perfectly turned out woman he had ever seen.

“Stone, darling, come in,” Amanda said, offering him a cheek to peck. She turned and led him into the living room, a vision of chintz and good pictures.

“What a beautiful room,” Stone said, knowing he was saying the right thing.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“And an even more beautiful hostess.”

“For that, you get a real kiss,” she said. Amanda took his face in his hands and planted upon his lips a soft kiss, with only a hint of tongue. Her carefully blotted lipstick remained unsmeared. “And now a drink,” she said.

“Bourbon on the rocks, please?”

“Jack Daniel’s? Wild Turkey? Old Crow?”

“Wild Turkey, please.”

“A man after my own heart,” she said. “You must have southern blood.”

“No, just southern tastes in some things.”

“As a Georgian, I thank you,” she said, deftly pouring two drinks at a butler’s tray across the room. “I’m so glad you didn’t wear an overcoat. Gloria is busy in the kitchen, and I hate dealing with coats.”

“I wear coats only when I am likely to be cold,” he said, lifting his drink.

“New friends,” Amanda said, raising her glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

They did.

Amanda took his hand and led him to a soft sofa. “I hope you have nothing to report,” she said.

“Nothing yet.”

“Good; I’m in no mood to talk business. That is a very handsome suit; who made it?”

“A Mr. Lauren runs them up for me.”

“Can’t go wrong there, can you?”

“Nope. Who’s coming to dinner, besides me?”

“Bill and Susan Eggers, whom you know, of course.”

“Bill since law school; Susan only from a few law firm parties.”

“Dick and Glynnis Hickock.”

“He owns your paper?”

“Right, and don’t kowtow to him, whatever you do, or he’ll consider you his inferior forever.”

“I’ll try not to be impressed. Anyone else?”

“Vance Calder and some girl or other.”

“Now I’m impressed.”

“Be sure and let him know it, or he’ll be hurt.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had dinner with a real live movie star.”

“Superstar, darling; if you forget, he’ll remind you.”

“And his girl?”

“One never knows with Vance. She might be a princess or a whore – more likely both.” She sipped her drink. “I’ve not asked you, Stone; is there a woman in your life?”

“There was until yesterday.”

Amanda smiled. “How convenient. I hope you’re not too crushed.”

“I’m managing.”

“Something I should mention before the others arrive: don’t be the last to leave, all right?”

“Whatever you say.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want you to stay, it’s just that I don’t want to start any rumors.”

“As you wish.”

“As a reward for giving up a late evening with me, how would you like to drive out to the country tomorrow?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It will be. The autumn leaves are at their peak, and the weather forecast for tomorrow is perfection.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“Will you meet me downstairs at nine sharp? We’ll take my car; it’s new, and I can’t get enough of it. Do you drive?”

“I do, but I’ve always thought of a car as a liability in this city.”

“It is, unless you have a convenient garage and a driver.”

The doorbell rang, and Amanda looked at her watch. “That will be Dick Hickock,” she said. “He always comes to dinner exactly on time, damn him.”

A moment later, the maid ushered in the Hickocks and introductions were made. A man appeared to mix drinks while the maid went to answer the door again.

Hickock was a stocky, balding man in an expensive suit; his wife, Glynnis, looked expensive, too.

Hickock fixed him with a stare. “What do you do, Barrington?” he asked.

“I’m a lawyer, and please call me Stone.”

“You can call me Mr. Hickock.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

Hickock managed a small smile. “What firm?”

“I’m of counsel to Woodman and Weld, but I practice privately, too.”

“What sort of practice? Financial?”

“Only if the transaction is perceived as being of a criminal nature.”

“Ah, a mob lawyer, eh?”

“No, my clients seem to arrive one at a time.”

“But they’re criminals?”

“I represent only the innocent, even if they’re proven guilty.”

Hickock laughed aloud. “And what did you think of this O.J. business?”

“If I should ever be charged with a double murder, I would be very pleased for Johnnie Cochran, Bob Shapiro, and Lee Bailey to represent me.”

Bill and Susan Eggers entered the room and greeted everyone. Stone liked Bill, but had always found Susan to be cold, even haughty. She had been Bill’s entree to the Four Hundred, such as they were. She shook Stone’s hand and seemed ready to ward off any attempt at a kiss.

Vance Calder arrived last, no doubt to make an entrance, and Stone found him to be just as handsome and charming as he was on the screen. He had been called the new Cary Grant, and Stone thought that appropriate. He also thought that Calder’s date was probably the most beautiful woman in New York. She was as tall as Calder, which wasn’t as tall as Stone had expected; she had shoulder-length hair the color of ranch mink and was wearing a mannish pinstriped, double-breasted suit. “This is Arrington Carter,” the actor said after he had shaken Stone’s hand. “Arrington, this is Stone Barrington.”

“Mr. Barrington,” the young woman said with a pleasingly southern accent, “you and I must never, ever marry.”

Stone and Calder both erupted with laughter, while she regarded them coolly. “Gentlemen, you make my point for me,” she said.

Stone had an urgent desire to sweep her out of the room someplace where he would not have to share her company with anyone else. Then he reminded himself who her date was, and what his own chances were of taking her away from a man whom People magazine, only the week before, had dubbed “the most beautiful man in America.”

They sat at a beautifully set round table and dined on caviar, followed by a crown roast of lamb, with bearnaise sauce on the side, and very good, fairly old wine. Stone was placed between Amanda and Arrington, and his hostess gave him the distinct impression that she would have arranged things differently if she had met the other woman beforehand.

Hickock was holding forth about the newspaper business. He took a swig of the Opus One ’89 and addressed Stone. “Do you read my newspaper?”

“Only for Amanda’s column,” Stone replied.

“Isn’t he sweet?” Amanda said, squeezing Stone’s thigh under the table.

“What about my editorial page?” Hickock asked.

“I only read your editorial page if I want to be annoyed,” Stone said.

Everybody laughed but Hickock. “I take it you’re a Democrat,” he said.

“A liberal Democrat,” Stone replied.

“These days nobody decides to become a liberal Democrat,” Hickock said. “It must run in your family.”

“On the contrary, my father was a Communist; so was my mother.”

Hickock looked genuinely shocked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Entirely,” Stone said. “I can’t really complain about it, because their politics brought them together. Where would I be if one of them had been a Republican?”

Vance Calder spoke up. “What work did your father do?”

“He was a carpenter.”

Bill Eggers broke in. “…and something of a genius as a maker of furniture and cabinet work. If he had been working in this country during the eighteenth century, Sotheby’s would be selling his work for very high prices today.”

“Why did he become a Communist?” Hickock asked.

“He had a Republican father,” Stone explained.

Amanda spoke up. “Stone’s mother was Matilda Stone.”

Hickock and Calder looked blank.

“The painter,” Amanda explained.

Arrington Carter was smiling broadly. “I own one of her pictures,” she said to Stone. “Of Washington Square in winter.”

Stone was surprised. “What good taste you have.”

“I certainly do.”

“Arrington has a very good collection,” Vance Calder said.

“I explained that to Vance,” Arrington said to the table. “He only knows about clothes, scripts, and leading ladies.”

Coffee was served in the library, and Stone declined brandy. “I really have to be leaving,” he said, rising. “I have an early appointment tomorrow morning.” He collected a grateful smile from Amanda, shook hands with the other guests, and went home.

As he lay in bed, waiting for sleep, he thought of Arrington Carter, but tried to dismiss her from his mind. He couldn’t compete with the likes of Vance Calder.

Arrington Barrington. He laughed aloud.