Fondly,
Arrington

“I think mostly she’s just tired, Uncle Stone,” Peter said. “She said she’d call tomorrow.”

Stone stuffed the envelope back into his pocket. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, then, Peter. And by the way, just call me Stone, okay? I’m not your uncle anyway.”

Peter managed a smile. “All right, Stone.”

“How old are you now?”

“Fifteen,” Peter said.

“My God, I somehow thought you were twelve.” He handed the boy the photograph of him.

“I was twelve when this was taken,” he said.

“When did you turn fifteen?”

“Nearly a year ago. I’ll be sixteen next month.”

“Sixteen!” My God, he thought. Has it been that long?

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t call me sir, either. Let’s just be friends. How tall are you?”

“Five feet eleven and a half inches, si—Stone.”

“That’s tall for fifteen—er, sixteen—isn’t it?”

“I think so. The doctor told me I’ll be well over six feet.”

“I expect you will. And your voice has already changed; you’re a baritone.”

“It happens, I guess. I sounded pretty funny for a while there.”

“I expect you did. Did your mother tell you I have a friend who’s a policeman, Dino Bacchetti?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Dino has a son who’s . . . about your age, and we’re having dinner with them tonight.”

“At Elaine’s?”

“Your mother told you about Elaine’s?”

“She told me a lot about it. She said it was her favorite place in New York.”

“Is this your first visit to New York?”

“Yes, it is. My folks always left me at home when they came here.”

“I think you’re going to like it,” Stone said. “Come on, let’s go find your room.”

They got onto the elevator, rode up two floors, and entered the smallest guest room, adjacent to Stone’s master suite. He hadn’t wanted the boy to feel lost in one of the bigger rooms.

“Have you had lunch?”

“Yes, they fed me on the airplane,” he replied.

“What do you think of your mother’s new Gulfstream?”

“Wow!” Peter said.

“Exactly. Now, I have to go to a meeting with the new head of Centurion Studios in a few minutes. Why don’t you get unpacked and watch some TV?”

“You’re seeing Mr. Goldman? Stone, I’d like very much to meet him. May I come with you? I’m a film student.”

Stone was taken aback, but what the hell? Goldman couldn’t object to meeting the son of Vance Calder, his studio’s greatest star. “Of course, Peter. I’ll be glad to have you come along. Go ahead and get settled, then come down to my office, on the bottom floor. We’re due at Centurion’s New York office in forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll be down in fifteen,” Peter said, unsnapping a suitcase and starting to hang up jackets and suits.

Stone went back to his office, shaking his head. What a shock! The kid was nearly a man in both appearance and manner!

4

Stone and Peter arrived at Centurion’s Fifth Avenue offices on time. Peter was carrying a slim leather envelope-style briefcase, and Stone wondered what was in it. They were asked to wait for a moment while Leo Goldman finished a conference call to the coast.