“Not while they don’t know where we are. I checked in under my middle name, Beresford. I don’t know how they could trace us here, we’re out in the country.”

“Just be ready for it.”

“Everything Dino had predicted has happened,” he said, “right up to their breaking into my father’s house in Palm Beach. We walked in to find the police there.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. How long are you staying in Rutherford?”

“Maybe three nights. I want to buy some wine while we’re here.”

“And what’s your itinerary after that?”

“Wherever the wind blows us.”

“All right, keep in touch.”

Laurence hung up. “Stone is concerned about us.”

“Sooner or later we’ll be right in the middle of it,” Theresa said.

“Maybe they’ll be tired of us by the time we get back.”

“I had a thought,” she said. “An old girlfriend of mine from college lives in Santa Fe. She’s always asking me to visit. Have you ever been there?”

“No, I haven’t seen a lot of the West. Sure, let’s go there from here.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

—

THEY SPENT the next two days touring the vineyards, and Laurence bought a dozen cases of wine for his cooler in New York. After the third night, they flew to Santa Fe, rented a car, and found Theresa’s friend’s house. “Her name is Becky Gardner. Her husband is Ted. He’s a writer.”

The house was off Tano Road, on the north side of the town, and it was roomy, comfortable, and had wonderful views of the Jemez Mountains. The Gardners were cordial, and their room was delightful.

“I’ve invited some people over for dinner tonight,” Becky said. “I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course,” Laurence said.

—

ONE OF THE DINNER GUESTS had brought a copy of People magazine and handed it to Laurence. “I don’t know if you’ve seen this yet.”

The magazine fell open to a spread of pictures, of himself and the New York apartment. “No, I haven’t seen this, but I’ve been expecting something like it.” He handed the magazine to Theresa. “Now I’m a national item, I guess.” The others passed it around.

“You look better without the beard,” a woman said.

“And harder to recognize,” her husband pointed out.

“What’s it like to become rich overnight?” someone asked.

“Extremely weird,” Laurence replied. “I managed to avoid the media, until they broke into my father’s house in Palm Beach and found my address in England, and from there, they traced me to New York, and so on. I don’t suppose they’ve followed me to Santa Fe yet. We’ll try to be gone before they do,” he said to his hostess.

“Don’t worry about it. Stay as long as you can. We’re off the beaten track out here.”

—