Son of Stone

7

S tone was still in bed, having breakfast and reading the Times, when Peter knocked and came into his room.

“Good morning,” Stone said. “I thought you’d be sleeping late.”

“I rarely sleep late,” Peter said. “I’ve already edited a scene of my film on my laptop.”

“That’s industrious. Would you like some breakfast?”

“I found the kitchen, and Helene made me some scrambled eggs.” Peter looked at the four paintings of New York scenes on Stone’s bedroom wall. “I like these pictures,” he said.

“They were painted by your grandmother,” Stone replied. “She has work in the Metropolitan Museum, too, in the American Collection.”

“I’m impressed,” Peter said, looking at them more closely.

“What would you like to do today?”

“I just talked to Ben. There’s a heist-film festival at some place called the Film Forum- The Killers, The Asphalt Jungle, like that. I thought we’d get in two or three this afternoon. Ben has never seen anything older than Finding Nemo.”

Stone laughed. “You can educate him.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter said, “he’ll love it. He’ll end up watching them on his cell phone. Mom won’t let me have a cell phone; she says I’d be talking on it all the time, instead of working or studying.”

“Mothers are like that,” Stone said.

“I’d better get back to work,” the boy said, then left.

Stone picked up the phone and buzzed Joan.

“Yes, boss?”

“Will you go up to the Apple Store on Fifth at Fifty-ninth Street and buy an iPhone and an iPad, the high-end models?”

“But you already have those things,” Joan said.

“Yeah, but Peter doesn’t, and it’s his birthday soon.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Sign him up in the name of Peter Barrington, and make his age eighteen on the application, so there won’t be any problem. Use this house for his address and put it all on my Amex card.”

“Will do.”

“And get him some accessories, too; you know the sort of thing, and get it all gift wrapped.”

“I’m on it. Hang on, the phone’s ringing.” She put him on hold and then came back. “It’s Seth Keener, Stephanie Fisher’s attorney.”

“Got it,” Stone said. (He picked up the other line.) “Mr. Keener? Stone Barrington. I’m attorney to Herbert Fisher.”

“Oh, good,” Keener said. “Has he signed the papers?”

“No, and he’s not going to.”

“He wants to stay married to Stephanie?”

“He doesn’t want that, either, but he’s not going on record as an adulterer.”

“Name his poison: Cruelty? Mental cruelty?”

“Mr. Fisher will be the complainant and the cause will be abandonment-on her part. I don’t think she can argue with that.”

Keener sighed. “I’ll put it to her.”

“Are you in immediate touch with her?”

“I can’t comment on that-attorney-client privilege.”

“I suppose that applies, especially if she’s a fugitive from justice.”

“I’ll ignore that. Send me the paperwork, and I’ll have a go. See you.”

“Just a minute, we’re not finished,” Stone said. “There’s the issue of a financial settlement.”

“Oh? What’s Mr. Fisher offering?”

“He’s offering nothing,” Stone replied. “What will Mrs. Fisher offer?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Certainly not. I believe we’re both aware that Mrs. Fisher acquired substantial assets during the marriage. Whereas Mr. Fisher did not.”

“If you’re talking about those nasty press reports of her looting the family firm, that’s all nonsense.”

“Then why is she on the FBI’s most-wanted list, along with her brother?”

“You know I can’t discuss that.”

Stone suddenly had an idea. “We can avoid discussing that in court if Mrs. Fisher would be amenable to sharing some of her premarital assets instead.”

“What did you have in mind, exactly?” Keener asked warily.

“Well, I’m informed that Mrs. Fisher had a substantial account at her father’s firm. She won’t be needing that.”

“That’s outrageous!” Keener said.

“So is running off with the piggy bank,” Stone replied. “If you give it some thought, I think you’ll see that this is an easy way out for her.”

“Send me the papers,” Keener said.

“There is the problem of service,” Stone said. “Can you accept service on her behalf?”

“Yes.”

“It will be done.” Both men hung up, and Stone buzzed Joan.

“Print out a boilerplate divorce document with Herbie as the complainant and the cause as abandonment by Stephanie, contingent on an agreed settlement, then messenger it over to Keener.”

“Will do.”

Stone went back to his crossword, but almost immediately, Joan buzzed him again.

“Arrington on line one.”

Stone picked it up. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she said. “It was just an infection, not a recurrence, so an antibiotic fixed everything. I’ll be arriving late this afternoon. Can you have your car meet me?”

“Of course. What time?”

“Five o’clock?”

“You can avoid rush hour if you land at three.”

“Good point. I guess I can do that. How are you and Peter getting along?”

“Famously.” Stone told her about the meeting at Centurion.

“The little devil!”

“Not so little; you should have warned me.”

“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Not a word,” Stone said. “He told me.”

“What!”

“He picked up the photograph of my father in my study, and it was all over. I answered a few questions, but he’s still going to want to hear from you.”

“Oh, God,” she said. “I’ve dreaded this.”

“Everybody’s very impressed with him, especially his maturity,” Stone said.

“I know, I know. He taught himself to read at three, and by four he was speaking like an adult, in complete paragraphs. He was just astonishing; he still is.”

“I’ll go along with that.”

“You have to remember, Stone, that although he speaks like an adult, he’s still only sixteen years old, next month, and in many ways, that’s his emotional age.”

“I haven’t seen a single sign of that,” Stone said.

“It will come up, believe me.”

“You didn’t tell me he was about to have a birthday.”

“I apologize; that was a lapse on my part. Do you want to know what to get him for a present?”

“That’s already taken care of.”

“Oh, good. All right, I’ll see you late this afternoon.”

“Where would you like to have dinner?”

“Did you and Peter dine at Elaine’s last night?”

“Yes, with Dino and Ben. He and Peter are going to the movies this afternoon.”

“Then let’s go to the Four Seasons.”

“I’ll have Joan book it. Eight o’clock?”

“All right. Bye-bye.” She hung up.

Stone gave Joan her instructions.

“All right, I’ll get the i-stuff on my lunch hour.”

“You can still take a lunch hour,” Stone said. “Tell the Woodman amp; Weld operator to pick up.” They had a telephone arrangement with the law firm so that Stone could be called there, and the caller patched through to his home office or a message taken.

Stone hung up and started on the crossword.