“Peter and I had the conversation about sex, you know. I told you about it.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.”

“I don’t think I did. In fact, about the only thing I could have told him was the only thing I’ve ever really learned about women.”

“Which is?”

“That they like sex just as much as men.”

“Good God! I hope you didn’t tell him that!”

“He’ll find out for himself in due course.”

“Due course is why he needs watching.”

“What would you do, if you were here?”

“I told you: sit between them.”

“I don’t think that’s a possibility,” Stone said. “Anything else?”

“Who is this girl?”

“Hattie something. She lives at Park and Sixty-third.”

“At least she’s from a good address. That makes me sound like a snob, doesn’t it?”

“Everybody at Knickerbocker is from a good address.”

“You know, I think this is Peter’s first real date,” she said.

“Unless something happened at Herald that you don’t know about.”

“Perish the thought! Anyway, they were watched like hawks by the faculty anytime there were girls on campus.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you: the woman from the Post called again.”

“Prunie?”

“No, the younger one. Joan told her you were doing a book and that you would have nothing further to say until it’s published. Joan thinks that put her off.”

“I’m so glad. That sort of thing was a constant threat when Vance was alive. We had to book at Beverly Hills restaurants under false names to avoid the paparazzi.”

“New York is better about that, I think.”

“Then why are they so interested in us?”

“Maybe we should hire a publicist,” Stone suggested.

“But we don’t want any publicity.”

“I mean hire a publicist to keep our names out of the columns.”

“How does that work? It sounds unnatural.”

“The publicist puts out a press release saying that he’s representing us, so all the calls go to him, if there’s a question, and he gives them something innocuous, or just brushes them off.”

“Vance never had a publicist.”

“He had the studio, and they have a whole publicity department.”

“You’re right.”

“If we were in L.A. they could handle it for us, but they’re probably too far away. But things have been quiet, since Joan brushed the woman off, so we probably don’t need to do anything about publicity, until Peter is a famous director.”

“Then he can get his own publicist. Oh, a delivery truck has just pulled up outside; I have to go. I love you!”

“Wait a minute!”

“Yes?”

“How did it go with Timothy Rutledge?”

“I managed very well, thank you. Bye-bye!”

“I love you, too,” Stone said, but she had hung up.