“For everybody.” He set the food on the kitchen table. “I’ll get plates and some wine. You root around in that and see if there’s anything you like.” He set the table and put out half a dozen serving spoons, then got a bottle of good Chardonnay from the wine fridge and opened it.

“What would you like?”

“A couple of dumplings, lots of fried rice, General Tso’s Chicken, and the Grand Marnier Shrimp, for a start.”

She served them both and they ate greedily.

“I figured out why you have so many Matilda Stone paintings,” she said. “She was your mother.”

Stone’s mouth was full, so he just nodded.

“I looked her up on Wikipedia, and it said she had one son.”

Stone swallowed and washed it down with the wine. “You are correct,” he said.

“What was she like?”

“Just wonderful. She worked like a beaver all day and was transformed into a mother at quitting time.”

“I’m a little like that. I work like a beaver all day, then I turn into a sex maniac at quitting time.”

“Then I’d better stop eating, or I won’t be able to get my clothes off.”

“I’ll help,” she said.

Chapter 12

The following morning, after their usual early-morning carnal cavort, Caroline took her shower and dressed in the change of clothes she had brought in her bag.

“I had a thought,” Stone said.

“Speak it, then, I don’t want to be late.”

“Why don’t we get out of town for the weekend? I’ve got a country place. We can breathe free up there.”

“What a good idea!”

“Can you shake loose from work after lunch?”

“I can go home, pack a bag, and be here by, say, noon?”

“Good. See you then.”

—

Jerry Brubeck got to his office by eight AM, as usual. He had not slept well, and he knew he was going to have to confront Gino, which always made him nervous. He made coffee and put the cheese Danishes he had bought on the way into the city on a plate, then poured himself a cup. At eight-thirty, right on schedule, Gino bustled into the office.

“Grab some coffee and Danish, Gino,” Jerry said. “We have to talk.”

“Oh, shit, not again.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, but this is an entirely new talk.”

Gino hung up his jacket, poured himself coffee, took the Danish, and sat down at the table, opposite Jerry. “All right, take your best shot.”

“Part of this you’ve heard before,” Jerry said, “but you’re going to have to hear it again.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve got a good business here, but you’re screwing it up.”

“What are you talking about?”