Family Jewels

12

Stone eased into consciousness at a little after ten o’clock. He was unaccustomed to sleeping that late, but at least, he thought, he’d miss the rush-hour traffic into Manhattan. He showered, shaved, dressed, and packed his bag, then carried it downstairs with him.

Rupert was ready for him and served a big breakfast, which he wolfed down. He’d skip lunch to make up for it. While he was on coffee, Rupert took his luggage out to the car, and he heard the trunk lid slam. Rupert came back shortly. “Everything’s in your car,” he said, “including a small gift from Ms. Fiske.”

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Stone said.

“I’ll be on my way, too,” Rupert replied. “I’ve been given a week off.” The two walked down to the front of the house together, and Rupert drove away. Stone followed until he lost the man at an intersection.

Stone lazily followed the GPS instructions to the Long Island Expressway, and as he entered the highway, someone kissed him on his right ear. He looked in the rearview mirror and found two large black eyes looking back at him.

“Bob, what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, but he didn’t get an answer. Bob hopped into the seat beside him and sat down. There was an envelope tied to his collar with Stone’s name on it. He pulled into a rest stop and read it.

“Well, Bob,” Stone said to the dog, “it looks as if you and I are bunking together for a couple of weeks.”

Bob’s tail beat affirmatively against the leather seat.

He made good time to the house and pulled into the garage. He got out his and Bob’s luggage, put his on the elevator and took Bob’s with him to his office. Joan heard him close the outer door and came in to greet him.

“Well, who’s this?” she cried, and knelt to greet the dog.

“This is Bob, and he’s going to be spending a couple of weeks with us.” He handed her the bag. “Here’s his luggage, and there are all sorts of goodies in there. As I recall he has lunch around this time, and there’s food in there, too.”

Joan took the bag and came back with two bowls and set them on the floor next to Stone’s desk. “There you go, Bob. How about you, boss? Lunch?”

“I had an enormous breakfast, so I’ll skip that.”

“A good weekend?”

“Very good, and I got some new business.” He handed her Carrie’s will and gave her instructions on what to do with it. “A man called Nicky Chalmers will be calling to set up an appointment.”

“He called this morning. Shall I get him back for you?”

“Sure. I also picked up a movie director called James Carlton, but I think that was a one-shot meeting.” He sat down while Joan made the call.

“Nicky on one,” she said.

Stone picked up the phone. “Good afternoon, Nicky.”

“And to you, Stone.”

“I just got back a moment ago, and somewhat to my surprise, Bob came with me. He’s staying here while Carrie is out of town.”

“We were all astonished at how Bob took to you. He’s ordinarily pretty diffident, except at mealtime.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Probably so. Can we get together tomorrow? I’d like to bring my business manager with me. His name is Duncan Beard.”

“Shall I ask Bill Eggers to join us?”

“Sure, that would be nice, I haven’t seen him in years.”

“How about lunch here, then? Twelve-thirty? I’ll round up Bill, if he’s available.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You’ve got the address. Use the ground-floor street entrance.”

“See you then.”

Stone hung up and called Eggers. “You free for lunch here tomorrow? I’ve got a new client for you, name of Nicky Chalmers.”

“Ah, the great-grandson of the Tire King, now a dilettante art collector of some note. Knew him at Yale. Delighted to have him, and I’ll join you for lunch.”

“Twelve-thirty. See you then. Come to the office.” He buzzed Joan: “Tell Helene we’ll be four for lunch tomorrow, serve something manly. We’ll sit down at one.”

“Got it. I’d better take Bob out, it’s on his schedule.”

“You two enjoy yourselves.”

Around five Stone was cleaning up his desktop, in preparation for a drink and the TV news, when Bob came and sat next to him. “What’s up, Bob?”

Bob didn’t move, just fixed his gaze on Stone.

“Joan?”

She came in.

“Why is Bob staring at me?”

“Ah, his schedule says he dines at five. I’ll serve him.”

Bob got down his dinner, then returned to sit next to Stone and stare. “Joan?”

She came back. “I forgot, he gets a cookie after his meals and his trips outside.” She handed Stone the biscuit, and he handed it to Bob, who then curled up beside Stone’s desk and went to sleep.

Late that evening, as Stone was getting into his nightshirt, Bob came and sat down in front of him and gave him the staring treatment.

“What is it, Bob?”

Bob made a little noise, then went to the door.

“Ah, you want to go out?”

Bob wagged all over.

Five minutes later, Stone found himself walking around the block in his trench coat and slippers in the pouring rain, waiting for Bob to find just the right spot. This process took fifteen minutes. Back inside, Stone had to find a towel and rub Bob dry, or at least, drier. Bob then insisted on his cookie.

Stone turned on the late-evening news and caught up on the day. Bob curled up in his bed and went straight to sleep.

“Not a care in the world,” Stone muttered.