“Mr. Hayward is going to need a secretary. Anybody we can steal from the firm without putting anyone’s nose out of joint?”

“Funny you should mention that. You remember that one of our senior partners died about three months ago?”

“Frank Penny?”

“Right. His secretary is Margery Mason. They’ve kept her on to clean up Penny’s affairs, and she’s about done.”

“Dark hair, going gray, mid-forties, on the plump side?”

“That’s the one, and they’ve been slow to reassign her. The partners seem to go for the more fashionable-looking women.”

“She’s ideal. Talk to her, will you? Find out what she’s making, so we can top it.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and set up a Florida company for Laurence called the LBH Corporation, to house some assets.”

“Right away.”

“He wants to buy an apartment in the old Fairleigh Hotel, on Park Avenue, that went condo. Get ahold of their prospectus and have a look at their standard contract. We should be ready for a quick closing, if he likes the place.”

“Is he, by any chance, considering the one that was featured in the Times real estate section last Sunday?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Magic. I hear the apartments have gone quickly, but they’re having trouble moving that penthouse. Most of the apartments are two, three bedrooms and three or four to a floor, but the penthouse takes up the whole fifteenth floor. My advice is, haggle.”

“Absolutely. I’ll have Mr. Hayward at Wilmington Trust at nine tomorrow morning. Meet us downstairs.”

“Will do. Are you going to tell me Mr. Hayward’s net worth?”

“I’ll surprise you, too. And he likes to be called Laurence.”

Stone buzzed Joan. “Please call Theresa Crane, a personal shopper at the Ralph Lauren store on Fifth Avenue at, what is it—Fifty-fifth?”

“Close enough.”

“And set up an appointment for Laurence Hayward”—he spelled it for her—“at, say, ten-thirty AM tomorrow.”

“Right. Anything else?”

“Yes, be prepared for anything, and be prepared to handle it fast.”

“What else is new?” she asked.

“Oh, and ask Helene to get the big guest room on three ready. We’ll be dining tonight in my study.”

3

STONE’S PHONE BUZZED.

“Conrad Trilling for you on one,” Joan said.

“How are you, Conrad?”

“Very well, Stone. I understand you’re bringing us a prospective client tomorrow morning—a Mr. Laurence Hayward of Palm Beach?”

“That is correct.”

“I hope you’re sitting down, Stone, because I have some bad news for you—you’ve been had.”

“Oh? How?”

“Mr. Laurence Hayward of Australian Avenue, Palm Beach, died three weeks ago. Didn’t you think we’d check up on him?”

“That was his father.”

“Laurence C. Hayward?”

“The son is Laurence B. Hayward.”