Sex, Lies & Serious Money

4

They arrived at Woodman & Weld’s offices in the Seagram Building at nine, and Herbie was there to meet them. They took an elevator and got off at the bank’s offices. The receptionist sent them into Conrad Trilling’s office, and introductions were made.

“Now,” Trilling said, waving them to seats, “if my information is correct, Mr. Hayward wishes to open both a personal checking account and an investment account.”

“That is correct,” Laurence said.

Stone took the check from his pocket and handed it to Trilling. “And this is Mr. Hayward’s initial deposit.”

Trilling looked at the check, then did a double take. “Stone,” he said, “are you funning me?”

“I am not, Conrad.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he said.

Stone turned to Laurence and Herbie. “Conrad will be telephoning the lottery office in West Palm.”

Herbie used the time to grill Laurence about himself. Ten minutes later, Conrad returned and sat down. “Mr. Hayward, the lottery office would like to get your permission to wire-transfer these funds to your new account. I’ve already given them the account number, you just need to identify yourself and approve the transfer.” He handed Laurence the phone and pressed a button.

“Of course,” Laurence said.

“I have Mr. Hayward for you.”

Laurence gave his name, address, date of birth, and Social Security number, then his driver’s license and passport numbers. He was asked and answered personal questions based on information that he had given them when he had picked up their check.

“Mr. Hayward, do you wish us to transfer the entire amount of your prize to the account number Mr. Trilling gave us?”

“I do.”

“Very well, the transfer will take place within the hour, and we will cancel the check we gave you.”

“Thank you.” He handed the phone back to Trilling.

“Now,” the banker said, pushing a stack of documents across the desk with a pen, “please fill out the personal information requested on the first document, then sign each of them at the places indicated.”

Laurence began signing, handing each completed sheet to Trilling. As he was signing the final page, Trilling’s phone rang.

“Conrad Trilling. Yes. I understand. And that amount?” He made a note and hung up. “Mr. Hayward, your funds have been transferred to your new account. I regret that they have deducted thirty dollars from the total for the wire-transfer fee.”

“I can handle that,” Laurence said.

“Now, it remains only to transfer funds to your investment account. How much do you wish to invest?”

“First,” Laurence said, “I want to retain thirty million dollars in my checking account, as I expect to purchase some property quite soon. Second, I wish to purchase thirty million pounds sterling and transfer that amount to my checking account at Coutts & Company in London. Here is a blank check with the account number.”

“Laurence,” Stone said, “may I ask, how do you intend those funds to be used?”

“I want to make gifts of ten million pounds each to Eton College and Magdalen College, Oxford. The rest is what you might call walking-around money. I may wish to purchase some property in England at a later date.”

“We’ll discuss this with your new accountant, later, but I should tell you that if you send money directly to your bank account in London, the British Inland Revenue Service will become aware of that almost immediately, and they will regard those sums as income, on which the highest rate of tax will be levied.”

“Oops,” Laurence said, “how should I handle this?”

“After we have discussed this with your accountant, you may wish to establish a trust, then make those payments directly to the colleges from that trust, without sending them through your London bank account.”

“Stone,” Laurence said, “you have just earned your legal fee.”

“Thank you. Conrad, are we done?”

“Not quite.” He reached into a desk drawer, fumbled with something, then came up with an alligator-bound wallet. “Mr. Hayward, this is your checkbook. The cover is a personal gift from the M&T Bank.” He handed him an envelope. “And this is your new American Express card.”

Laurence removed the card from the envelope. “Why is it black?” he said. “I thought they were green or gold.”

“The Centurion card is American Express’s highest level.” He handed Laurence a thick, leather-bound document. “Here is an outline of the AmEx services to which you are entitled at that level.”

“I see.”

Trilling handed him two more cards. “And here is our bank’s Visa and a separate debit card. Please enter a four-digit PIN and sign this document.”

Laurence did so.

“And now,” Stone said, “if our business here is concluded, Laurence has another appointment.”

“I think Mr. Hayward should come back and see us at his earliest convenience to discuss an investment strategy we will have prepared for him, and meet the team of professionals who will be serving him. Would tomorrow morning be satisfactory? Nine o’clock?”

“May we make it ten o’clock?” Laurence replied.

“Of course.”

Everyone shook hands and the meeting ended.

Downstairs, Stone said, “You take my car. Fred will drive you. You have an appointment at the Ralph Lauren store at ten-thirty. Your personal shopper’s name is on the card.” He handed it over. “You may have them send your purchases to my house, if you wish. And we have a meeting with the sales agent at the Fairleigh at three PM.”

Laurence thanked him and got into the car.

“Ralph Lauren shop, sir?” Fred asked.

“Please.”

They reached the store quickly. Fred gave him a card. “Please call me when you’re done. I’ll be as nearby as I can.”

“Thank you, Fred.” Laurence went into the store, stopped, and looked around.

A beautiful, dark-haired young woman dressed in a Ralph Lauren suit approached. “Mr. Hayward?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Theresa Crane, your personal shopper. What may I show you today?”

“I need a wardrobe,” he said. “Not a piece of furniture but clothes. Let’s begin with the basics.”

“Boxers or briefs?” she said.

He laughed. “I guess that’s basic. Two dozen pairs of white boxers, size 34.”

She made a note. “Shall we start with suits and work our way down?” She led the way to an elevator, and they went upstairs. “Let’s see,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “I’d say a 42 long?”

“Let’s try one on,” he said. She led him to a bank of suits and he chose a dark gray pinstripe, then she led him to a dressing room.

Moments later, a tailor was examining him. He bent and marked the trouser bottoms, then stood up. “Mr. Hayward, you are that rare gentleman who is perfectly shaped for a standard size. My only question is, cuffs or plain bottoms?”

“Cuffs, please, and may I wear it out of the store?”

“Ready in half an hour,” the tailor said.

“As long as we stick with the Purple Label suits, all you have to do is choose,” Theresa said. “The tailor is now superfluous.”

Laurence began choosing half a dozen suits and a tuxedo. Next, he chose some tweed jackets, a blue blazer, and two overcoats and a trench coat, then they went downstairs, where he chose a dozen shirts and as many neckties, then on to the shoe department.

“I love alligator,” Laurence said. He chose six pairs and some bedroom slippers. The price tags took his breath away, but he steeled himself.

“Jewelry?” Theresa asked.

“I could use a watch,” he replied. “Or two.” At the jewelry counter he chose an antique Cartier wristwatch and an old Rolex.

“Will you need luggage?” she asked.

“I certainly will.”

“Alligator?”

“Oh, yes.” He chose three matched cases and a briefcase that were the same chocolate gator as his new checkbook. He avoided looking at the price tags. He bought socks and cuff links and belts and sweaters and two dressing gowns, one cotton, one silk.

In the sportswear department he bought sneakers, boat shoes, running shorts, and a dozen polo shirts. “I can’t think of anything else,” he said.

“Then let’s go and take delivery of your new suit,” Theresa said. She delivered him to the tailor and he put on a new shirt, tie, shoes, and belt, then slipped on his Cartier watch, while Theresa disappeared with his new American Express card.

She returned as he was examining himself in the mirror.

“Perfection,” she said, handing him the bill to sign. He caught sight of the total as he was signing, and it was a bit over $160,000. “If you’ll come with me, American Express would like to speak with you.”

She took him to a phone. “Hello?”

“Mr. Hayward,” a woman said, “may I ask you some questions?”

“Of course.”

She grilled him for a couple of minutes. “I’m sorry to detain you, but it is your first purchase on your new card, and we had to be sure it was you.”

“Of course.” He hung up.

“And now,” Theresa said, “you have just run up the largest sale I have ever made. May I take you to lunch in our new restaurant downstairs?”

“Of course you may.”

Shortly, they were seated at a table in the most beautiful room he had ever dined in, outside of Oxford.

When they had ordered, she looked at him questioningly. “Tell me, were all your clothes lost at sea in a shipwreck?”

He laughed. “No, I’ve just neglected to buy any clothes for a while, and what I have are mostly in England, where I’ve been living for the past twenty-two years.”

“And what do you do, Mr. Hayward?”

“You must call me Laurence, please.”

“And what do you do, Laurence?”

“I teach English and art history at a public school.”

“Which in England is a private school, is it not?”

“It is.”

“Which one?”

“Eton College.”

“Even I have heard of Eton,” she said. “Did you also attend Eton as a boy?”

“I did.”

“It didn’t seem to hurt your accent much.”

“I’m American born. I assume my American disguise when I’m here.”

“Do you live in New York?”

“Palm Beach, but I’m looking at an apartment in about an hour.”

“Where?

“Park Avenue.”

“Very good. And will you furnish it in an hour?”

“I expect it will take a little longer, though I understand it’s already very nicely furnished. Now, you know a lot about me, and I have to catch up. Your sixty-second bio, please.”

“All right, born in Delano, a small town in Georgia, twenty-eight years ago, attended local schools, then I won a scholarship to Mount Holyoke College, in Massachusetts.”

“One of the Seven Sisters.”

“Correct.”

“After graduation, I came to New York to make my fortune in finance, but no one would hire me, so I got a job selling neckties at Ralph Lauren, the one at Madison and Seventy-second. Seven years later, I’m still selling neckties, along with everything else in the store. There.”

“Seven years? I admire your loyalty.”

“They pay me,” she said.

“I hope you’re on commission.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you, but if I’m not, I’ll demand a raise after today.”

They finished their lunch, and she introduced him to the headwaiter and told him to always take care of Mr. Hayward.

Laurence called Fred, and he appeared almost immediately.

“What a nice car,” Theresa said.

“It is, but it’s not mine, belongs to my attorney.”

“Ah, Stone Barrington. You must be a very good client.”

“We’ll see. I enjoyed our lunch. Will you have dinner with me?”

“I’m not allowed to,” she said. “Against company policy.”

“Do you never do what you’re not allowed to do?”

She smiled. “Sometimes.”