“Already?” Hedy asked. “And I thought my virtue was safe.”

Stone found a robe in his bathroom and stripped off everything. When he got back to the living room the doorbell was ringing. He gave his clothes to the valet, with instructions to press his suit, shine his shoes, and launder his other things.

The man accepted the clothes and handed him a shopping bag. “See if these things are satisfactory,” he said.

Stone inspected the contents. “Perfect.” He sent the man off with another of his fifties.

Hedy had emerged from her bedroom in her own robe. “You overtip.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of Ronald Reagan’s trickledown theory?”

“Yes, I’ve just never seen it in operation. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some sleep in a real bed.”

“Of course. Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”

“I can refuse you nothing,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“We’ll see,” Stone called after her.

The doorbell rang again, and an envelope was slid under the door. Stone opened it to find the agenda for his board meeting. There was only one item: “Consideration of a potential site for a new Arrington Hotel in Rome.” It was the first he’d heard of it.

He went to his own bedroom and left a wakeup call for eleven AM. He had two hours to sleep, and he wasted no time becoming unconscious.

4

Stone swam up out of a sound sleep and wondered where he was and what that unfamiliar sound meant. He followed it to a telephone. “Yes?” he croaked.

“Your eleven o’clock call, Mr. Barrington.”

“Thank you.” He hung up and stared at the ceiling until his eyes were fully focused, then he got up and went into the large bathroom. Several toiletry items had been laid out, and he managed a shave followed by a shower that fully woke him. He went back to his room and changed into his new underwear, socks, and shirt, tied his tie, and slipped into his freshly pressed clothes. Quite presentable, he thought, gazing into the mirror.

He went into the living room and saw it as if for the first time: beautiful paneling, exquisite fabrics, and a large painting over the sofa. He walked out onto his terrace and got the full effect of the Roman sunshine and spring air, then he went and sat at his desk, forgetting for a moment that his briefcase and laptop were en route. He took his iPhone off the hotel’s charger and checked his e-mail. One from Dino.

I hope the service was as good in Rome as it was in New York.

Not nearly as good, Stone replied, and I thank you again.

The others could wait.