Bel-Air dead

19

Arrington brushed a strand of her blonde hair from her forehead and took a long drink of her iced tea. “I haven’t told you about this,” she said, “and you haven’t visited, so you haven’t seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“My house.”

“I recall your saying that you were thinking of building.”

“That was years ago. I went a little crazy after Vance’s death. I had never had access to huge amounts of money, and Vance was-how shall I put it?-prudent. I looked for a big house in Virginia and didn’t find anything I liked, so I decided to build the house to end all houses, and I did. Twenty thousand square feet of it.”

“Wow.”

“Well, yes. I hired an architect and an interior designer, and I went on a shopping spree all over the South to find just the right pieces to furnish it. The local gentry were peeved, because I was denuding the antique shops in the county and running the prices up on whatever was left, but eventually, I got it done.” She sighed. “Perhaps ‘overdone’ would be a better word.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t, and I don’t want you looking through old Architectural Digests for the piece they did. So, for weeks now, I’ve been tagging pieces in the house, and I’m going to throw the biggest auction anybody in Virginia has ever seen. Sotheby’s is sending down an auctioneer. And-you won’t believe this-I’ve found a buyer for the house whose tastes are probably better than mine. I won’t get all my money out of the place, but I’ll get three-quarters of it and be happy to have it.”

“Where will you live?” Stone asked.

“At Champion Farms,” she said.

“I wasn’t aware there was a suitable house on the property.”

“There isn’t, but there used to be. It was contemporaneous with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, but it was destroyed by fire in the 1920s. A researcher has been able to find the original plans in the Charlottesville library-no one even knew they were there. So, I’m going to re-create the place on the original spot. It’s wildly overgrown, but there are beautiful trees, including a neglected colonnade of old oaks to the house. I’ll replace the damaged and fallen trees.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It’s going to take all my time for the next two years, and then I’ll be looking for another project to keep me busy. I’ve learned that I’m dangerous when I’m not busy.”

Stone laughed. “I can imagine.”

“There’s something else: I want to talk to you about Peter.”

“All right, perhaps it’s time you did.”

“Peter is fifteen, and he’s at Episcopal High School, in Alexandria; it’s the best prep school in the South, on a level with the best New England preps. He is very, very bright, and he’s a grade ahead. He’s also very handsome, and tall for his age.” She retrieved a photograph from her purse and handed it to Stone. “For you.”

Stone stared at the boy-young man, really-and sighed. “He looks extraordinarily like my father.”

“I remember that photograph in your house,” she said. “Anyway, the school was reluctant to accept him at first, but then three of the senior faculty had a long lunch with him-I wasn’t present-and they were impressed with his maturity and seriousness, so they accepted him as a boarding student in the ninth grade. From what they’ve said about him so far, he’ll probably graduate in three years, maybe even two.”

“That’s breathtaking,” Stone said.

“I’m sure you were bright, too, Stone,” she said. “God knows he didn’t get it from me.”

“Now, now.”

Arrington reached into the large handbag resting next to her chair and handed Stone a thick envelope. “This is my will and the trust I set up for Peter. I’d like you and the people at Woodman amp; Weld to look it over and redraw it. My beneficiaries haven’t changed, but I’ll be interested to see if you think the trust needs work.”

“Of course,” Stone said. “We’ll do that as a courtesy.”

“You’ll never make any money that way, Stone.”

“We’ll do all right.”

“You’ll see that I’ve appointed you Peter’s trustee. I didn’t tell you, because, I suppose, I felt invulnerable, but recently I had a brush with ovarian cancer. They caught it early, but I had to have my ovaries out, and now I’m on hormones. If I get sick again, I’ll give you as much notice as I can, but you could, possibly, find yourself being a father to your son.”

“That would be an honor,” Stone said.

“Considering that you’re his father, it’s more of a duty,” she said. “Maybe he’ll find that out one day, but I don’t want you to tell him. He’s Vance’s son to the world, and that will be an advantage to him, if you help him handle it properly.”

“I can see how it would be.”

“You’re going to have to keep it from him how rich he’s going to be.”

“I expect he may have already figured that out,” Stone said, “and if he hasn’t, the kids at his school are going to tell him.”

“I suppose you’re right. Then we’ll both have to do what we can to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.”

“One way is not to give him control of his trust until he’s older,” Stone said, “perhaps at thirty-five.”

“That’s a very good idea, and one I’m happy to leave in your hands.”

“Thank you; I’ll try and do right by him.”

“I’d like to bring him to New York to see you,” she said.

“You’d both be very welcome; I’ll look forward to it.”

“Now,” she said, taking another sip of her iced tea, “what are we going to do about this Centurion business?”

“You want my recommendation?”

“Yes, please, and I’ll tell you up front, I’ll follow it. I’m not equipped to deal with this.”

“All right. First, I think that you should not sell your shares. In fact, I think you should buy more.”

“Why?”

“Because Centurion is giving you a better return on your investment that just about anything could. It’s extremely well run and profitable. Right now, you own a third of the shares. I think you should, over the next few years, increase your share to fifty-one percent.”

“My goodness!” Arrington said, sounding a little breathless. “I never thought of controlling the studio! Can I afford to buy that many more shares? Terrence Prince has run up the price, hasn’t he?”

“If we can get one or two owners on our side, that will kill the sale, and the price will go down. There may even be some who would prefer to sell to you at a lower price than to get into bed with Prince.”

“What do you think of him?” she asked.

“I think he’s a shark; maybe even a killer.”

“Then he’ll do just fine in the Virginia hunt country,” she said.

“I’d heard that he’d once bought a house there, then flipped it.”

“Now he’s bought another,” Arrington said. “I’ve sold him mine.”

“Prince is your buyer?”

“I think he bought the place as a way to get next to me and get my Centurion shares,” she said, laughing. “We closed yesterday.”

Stone began to laugh. “That’s wonderful.”

“You may have the pleasure of telling him I’m not budging, if you like.”

“Not yet; we still have to be sure we have a voting majority of the shares on our side.”

“I suppose so. Would you like to go to the Bel-Air party with me?”

“I’m already going with Mike Freeman, the CEO of Strategic Services, a client of mine, so you must join us.”

“I’d love to. Where’s Dino? Surely he’s here.”

“Out running around town,” Stone said. “Mike’s coming for drinks at six; Dino will be back by then.”

“Well, then,” she said, “I think I’ll go and have a nap. Care to join me?”

“Maybe later,” Stone said. “I want to read your estate documents.”

“Oh, all right.” She set down her iced tea, picked up her handbag, and walked toward the main house. Just before entering, she looked over her shoulder to be sure he was watching, then gave him a little smile.