“Congratulations, Peter,” Stone said, clapping him on the back.

“Well, it would have been boring to spend the rest of the academic year there, except for my film, of course, but I can work on that anywhere. All the footage is shot; I just have to edit and score it.”

“And,” Arrington said, “it looks as though Peter himself has already scoped out his next few years of education.”

“That, I have,” Peter said.

“Well, I have news, too,” Stone said. “Woodman & Weld are arranging for a petition for Peter’s name change to be lodged with a Virginia court, and also—this surprised me greatly—a Los Angeles judge is directing that Peter’s original birth certificate be reissued with his new name . . . and age.”

Peter was jumping up and down, now. “Yes, yes, yes,” he kept shouting.

“If you approve,” Stone said, “you will be named after your grandfather: Malon Peter Barrington the Second.”

“I love it!” Peter shouted.

They finally managed to calm him down. “Now, Peter,” Stone said, “does the name Letitia Covington mean anything to you?”

“Sure,” Peter said, “she’s the great old actress. Mom and I saw her in a big production at the Kennedy Center in Washington last year.”

“Well, Ms. Covington is a founder of the performing arts program at Knickerbocker Hall, and you have an interview with her on Monday afternoon at three.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “How did you do this?”

“The lady is the mother of one of Woodman & Weld’s clients, and a phone call was made on your behalf. She wants you to bring with you what you have of your screenplay and film.”

Peter fell back onto the sofa, clutching his chest. “I’m having a heart attack!”

“Relax, and drink your tea,” Stone said.

“Oh, listen, I’d like to get my driver’s license,” Peter said.

“Peter!” his mother interjected. “You’re only sixteen!”

Peter smiled. “Not anymore,” he said.

“Oh, God,” Arrington moaned, “we’ve created a monster!”

13

Arrington was stretched out on the bed in her slip. She took A a deep breath and let it out. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said.

Stone sat down on the bed. He didn’t like the sound of this. “All right.”

“I’ve been seeing someone for the past year. Back in Virginia.”

Stone allowed himself to think about all the women he’d been out with during that time. “All right,” he said.

“You’re not jealous?” she said with mock concern.

“Well, of course, but you’re a free woman. Are you having some sort of problem with him?”

“He’s the architect for the new house,” she said, seeming to evade his question. “The relationship began to sour a few weeks ago, but I didn’t want to cut him off at the knees while he was still working on the house.”

“That’s a reasonable decision to make,” Stone said. “I assume you will eventually get around to answering my question.”

“What question was that?” she asked, innocently.

“Is he giving you trouble?”