“I heard that they bought a novel that’s a favorite of mine,” she said. “Not Far Enough, by a Santa Fe writer, Helen Bradford.”

“That’s true,” Stone said. “They have a script and they’re going into production in a couple of weeks.”

“There’s a woman in the novel that I’d like to play,” she said. “It’s a character part, but I have to start doing those at some point.”

“When would you like to meet them?” Stone asked.

“As soon as possible. It’s going to get crazy as the convention gets cranked up. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“Excuse me a moment,” Stone said. He walked away from the table and called Peter. “Would you like to meet Susannah Wilde?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Peter said. “I’m a great admirer of hers.”

“Can you and Ben host her at lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes, we can do that.”

“I should tell you that she’s interested in playing a woman in the novel. She says it’s a character part.”

“God, she’d be great in the part!”

“Twelve-thirty tomorrow?”

“Yes. Can you come?”

“I have to have lunch with a new client, but you don’t need me there.”

“Tell her to come to the bungalow. We have a chef now.”

“I’ll do that. Oh, and thank you again for the party last night. I love your house—Ben’s, too.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Stone hung up and returned to the table. “Twelve-thirty tomorrow? They’ll give you lunch at their bungalow.”

“Which one?”

“It used to be Vance Calder’s.”

“Oh, I know it. Do you think they’ll let me have a look at the script?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Stone said.

—

THE FOLLOWING DAY he went back to the Bel-Air for lunch and found Tom Wise waiting for him at the table. Tom was in his early sixties but looked tan and fit.

“Just how rich are these people?” Tom asked.

“They have a house in Eaton Square, and a country place, and they want to buy in Bel-Air. If I were you, I wouldn’t press them on the subject. The British upper class tend to be reticent about wealth.”

“All right. If we take them on, I expect I’ll find out anyway.”

“I expect so.”

Stone saw Charles Grosvenor approaching with a woman and he stood up to greet them. “This is Mrs. Grosvenor,” he said.

“And this is Tom Wise, the managing partner of our Los Angeles office,” Stone said. Mrs. Grosvenor had beautiful iron-gray hair to her shoulders, straight and parted in the middle. She appeared to be considerably younger than her husband, but they looked good together.

They sat down and ordered lunch, and Tom probed them lightly about what he could provide in the way of services.

“I think our first order of business will be an estate agent,” Grosvenor said.