LAURENCE GOT OUT of the car in front of the armory and went inside. He picked up a catalog and was told that the sale would close the following day. It was a show of American art and furniture.

He began at the aisle on his far right and made a quick tour of the show, making notes on his list along the way, then he backtracked to the displays that interested him. His first purchase was a federal dining table with a spectacular breakfront in matching wood, the two pieces offered at $500,000. He haggled and lost, then bought both of them. He continued, buying end tables and odd pieces, including a table for the small dining room, plus pieces to be used as side tables in the bedrooms. He also bought four Milton Avery landscapes and a number of small sculptures, including a first-century head of Zeus in alabaster and a larger, Greek head, perfect, except for the all-too-typical broken-off nose. Finally, he found a large coffee table, made by a fine craftsman from antique walnut. He paid for each purchase with either his American Express card or a check, and his total came to a little under $7,000,000. He reckoned he had saved $250,000 because the show was about to close and the dealers didn’t want to truck everything home. He arranged for everything to be delivered the following day at the close of the show.

Back in the car, he Googled a London shirtmaker, Turnbull & Asser, used by his stepfather, and discovered that they had a New York shop, just around the corner from his new apartment, on East Fifty-seventh Street. There he was fitted and ordered two dozen shirts to be made, then he bought some pajamas, more neckties, and some pocket squares. That done, he went back to Stone’s house and found his new attorney still at his desk.

“How did your shopping go?”

Laurence told him what he had bought.

“Sounds like you now have everything a man needs.”

“Not quite. I still have to go car shopping.”

“For your Porsche?”

“Yes, and I quite like your Bentley Flying Spur. Today has taught me how nice it is to have a car and driver in the city.”

“Good. Herb Fisher has found you a prospective secretary. You’ll meet her after the closing tomorrow.” He told Laurence what he knew about the woman. “And would you like to join some friends and me for dinner this evening?”

“I’d be delighted.”

“We’ll leave here a little after seven.”

“I’ll be ready. I hope you don’t mind if I wear the same suit—it’s my only one, until tomorrow.”

“Of course not.”

“I’d better go and freshen up, then.”

—