Peter Codford was six feet four inches tall, with a spare, athletic build, and he still had the same full head of dark brown hair that he’d had when he got his MBA. Only the lines on his face had deepened. The effect was to add to the image of casual authority that he’d possessed even in his twenties. His wife Judy was lively and clever. It also turned out that she and Maggie had known each other at law school.

“I went on working for a while after Peter and I married,” Judy told them. “But then Peter had to move, so I stopped, and I never went back to work again.” She smiled. “I rather regret that.”

The Codfords lived in a fifteen-room apartment near the Metropolitan on Fifth. It was a palace, and would have contained Gorham and Maggie’s Park Avenue apartment more than twice. Peter also had a house in the Hamptons, on Georgica Pond, and another apartment, on Nob Hill in San Francisco.

The conversation was certainly easy. Both couples had the same background and outlook, as well as some shared memories. Gorham was interested that Peter was similarly cautious about the dot.com boom. “People have made a lot of money,” he said, “but there has got to be a big correction.” Peter also wanted some information about the politics of loan decisions at the commercial banks. Had it changed in the last year? He sketched a situation at a company in which he was a minority shareholder. What would be Gorham’s advice if they wanted to approach a commercial bank for a loan?

They talked about their families, and Gorham and Maggie learned that Peter and Judy had lost a son.

They discussed the millennium bug. Were all the world’s computers really going to crash when the date went to zero? “The bank has spent a fortune preparing for it,” Gorham said, “but Maggie reckons nothing will happen at all.” He was also curious to know what areas Peter was looking to invest in next. “America will continue to be our core business,” Peter said, “Europe, less and less. We think the Far East will be the growth area for the future. In a couple of years, Judy and I may move to Hawaii, to be nearer the action.”

It was a pleasant evening, and afterward Gorham and Maggie walked home down Fifth.

“I really enjoyed that,” said Maggie. “It was a nice surprise to meet Judy again.”

Gorham nodded, but said nothing. They walked on in silence for a block.

“What sort of money do you suppose Peter has?” he said at last.

“I’ve no idea.”

“He must have a hundred million, at least.”