“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“You’ll have to advise me on what to get.”

“I’ll be glad to do that and to get you more expert advice than I’m able to offer.”

“Can I afford it?”

“Arrington, you can afford anything your heart desires,” Stone replied. “By the way, I have the papers for your line of credit.” He opened the envelope and handed them to her.

“I think this is yours,” she said, handing back his partnership agreement. “And congratulations again.”

“Thank you; you helped make it possible.”

She glanced at the first page of the agreement. “A hundred million dollars!”

“You don’t have to borrow it all, just enough for the Champion deal and whatever else you want, like the airplane.”

“Do you have a pen?” She accepted one and signed the papers where Stone indicated.

Manolo came out with iced tea for both of them, and Stone handed him the partnership and line of credit agreements in the envelope, first writing the address on the outside. “Will you fax these, then FedEx the originals to New York, please, Manolo?”

“Of course, Mr. Stone.”

“I’ve been making some plans, Stone,” Arrington said. “Let me tell you about them.”

“I’d like to hear them.” He sat back and morphed into his listening lawyer mode.

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.