“All right, born in Delano, a small town in Georgia, twenty-eight years ago, attended local schools, then I won a scholarship to Mount Holyoke College, in Massachusetts.”

“One of the Seven Sisters.”

“Correct.”

“After graduation, I came to New York to make my fortune in finance, but no one would hire me, so I got a job selling neckties at Ralph Lauren, the one at Madison and Seventy-second. Seven years later, I’m still selling neckties, along with everything else in the store. There.”

“Seven years? I admire your loyalty.”

“They pay me,” she said.

“I hope you’re on commission.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you, but if I’m not, I’ll demand a raise after today.”

They finished their lunch, and she introduced him to the headwaiter and told him to always take care of Mr. Hayward.

Laurence called Fred, and he appeared almost immediately.

“What a nice car,” Theresa said.

“It is, but it’s not mine, belongs to my attorney.”

“Ah, Stone Barrington. You must be a very good client.”

“We’ll see. I enjoyed our lunch. Will you have dinner with me?”

“I’m not allowed to,” she said. “Against company policy.”

“Do you never do what you’re not allowed to do?”

She smiled. “Sometimes.”

5

STONE STOOD on the sidewalk in front of the Fairleigh and watched his Bentley glide to a halt. He opened the door and held it for Laurence. “I see you’ve shopped,” he said. “That’s a beautiful suit.”

“Thank you for the recommendation,” Laurence said.

“Right this way.” Stone led him through the newly renovated, paneled lobby.

“Very handsome,” Laurence said.

“When the hotel was built, in the 1920s, they were said to have felled a whole forest of mahogany trees in Honduras.”

“Awful.”

“Not so much in the 1920s. They’ve grown back by now.”

They entered the elevator, Stone pressed the 15 button and the car rose. “I understand the agent, whose name is Cassandra Gotham, is British. She might like to hear a familiar accent.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Another thing—the apartments in the hotel are pretty much sold out, because there are three or four per floor. The penthouse, being larger and occupying an entire floor, has been harder to sell. Before you make an offer, let’s talk.”

“Certainly.”

The car opened into a large, beautifully furnished foyer, with double doors to the right. A willowy blonde of indeterminate age, wearing a Chanel suit, strode from the apartment to greet them with a broad smile. “Mr. Barrington, Mr. Hayward, which is which?”

Stone handed her a Woodman & Weld card. “I’m Stone Barrington, this is Laurence Hayward.”

“How do you do, Ms. Gotham,” Laurence said.

“So good to meet you both. Will you come through? I’ll try not to talk too much, let the place speak for itself. Just ask, if you have questions.”