“I know that when I said I hoped to see you again, you may not have thought it would be quite so soon, but would you like to have dinner this evening?”

“Actually, I thought it might be soon, and yes, I would. I get hungry every evening around eight.”

“Anyplace special you’d like to go?”

“I’m fond of the Four Seasons Pool Room.”

“What a coincidence, so am I. Why don’t you come to my house for a drink at seven or so, and we’ll go on from there.”

“You talked me into it, but I don’t do ‘or so.’ I’ll be there at seven.”

He gave her the address, and they hung up. Stone alerted his factotum, Fred Flicker, to station himself near the front door at almost seven.

—

She was true to her word; the bell rang at precisely seven, and a moment later Fred showed her into Stone’s study. “Ms. Woodhouse,” Fred intoned. “When would you like the car, Mr. Barrington?”

“At seven forty-five.” Fred vanished.

“What would you like to drink?” Stone asked Caroline.

“What do you recommend?”

“The house specialties are vodka gimlets, vodka martinis, and excellent whiskeys.”

“What’s a vodka gimlet?”

“Trust me, if you don’t like it I’ll get you something else immediately.”

“I’m game.” She began looking at pictures.

Stone opened the little freezer, extracted a bottle of pre-made gimlets, poured her one and handed it to her, then he poured himself a Knob Creek.

She tasted the gimlet. “Whoa, that’s startling,” she said.

“I make them by the bottle and keep them in the freezer.”

“Make them how?”

“Simple—remove six ounces of vodka from a 750-milliliter bottle of vodka, replace it with Rose’s Sweetened Lime Juice, and put it in the freezer overnight.”

Caroline stopped before a painting. “Wait a minute, is this a Matilda Stone?”

“It is.”

“So, somehow you discovered who my favorite painter is, then rushed out and bought this? I’m impressed.”

“No, she’s my favorite painter, too. Would you like to see some others?”

“Yes, please.”

“There’s one more beside the door.” He waited for her to appreciate it, then took her into the living room and dining room and showed her some others.

“My God, how many do you have?”

“Eleven, at the moment, but I have a man still looking for more.”

“That’s more than the Metropolitan Museum has.”

“I know, they keep trying to buy mine. How did you discover Matilda Stone?”

“I saw one at an exhibition, then I discovered those at the Met. I bought four prints at the museum shop, and they’re my favorites of all my pictures. I paint, and she was an influence on my work.”

Stone took her back to the study and sat her down.

“Tell me your story,” he said.

“Long version or short version?”

“I’m not drunk enough for the long version.”