“You’ll manage, sweetie; you’re the greatest hostess in New York, you know.”

“You will be back for the school play, won’t you? Helen is starring, and she’s so counting on you.”

“I’ll move heaven and earth, if I can. Listen, pack me a bag, will you? The works, dinner jacket, too.”

“Dinner jacket? I thought this was a deposition!”

“The client wants me to meet some important people next week. Could be great for business.”

“I hate you for this,” she said.

“Baby, I know how you feel, and I promise, I’ll make it up to you. How about Tuscany this summer? And listen, will you just leave my suitcases with the doorman? I’m rushing to the airport, and I don’t even have time to come upstairs.”

“Oh, all right!” She slammed down the phone.

Goldsmith buzzed his secretary. “Millie, call Pebble Beach and get me a two o’clock tee time tomorrow, and book me into the Inn, a nice suite, ocean view. Talk to the manager, if you have to; tell him it’s for me. And call the car and tell Mike to be sure my clubs are in the trunk; if they’re not, tell Pebble Beach to keep a set of Callaways for me—the tungsten-titanium irons, nothing else.”

“I’ve got your deposition case packed. Anything else?”

“I think that’ll do it.” Goldsmith hung up and dialed his urologist’s number, then got his secretary on the line. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?”

“Fine, Mr. Goldsmith.”

“Listen, big favor; my wife and I are off to San Francisco this afternoon, kind of a second honeymoon. Will you call the Ritz-Carlton out there, get the name of a drugstore, and phone in a Viagra prescription for me?”

“Sure, how many?”

“Oh, a couple of dozen ought to do it—ho, ho, ho! Ask them to deliver them to my suite.”

“I’ll take care of it; you and Mrs. Goldsmith have a wonderful time.”

“Don’t you worry, with your help we will. See ya.” Goldsmith closed his briefcase, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. “Is Mike downstairs with the car?”

“Yes, and your golf clubs are in the trunk.”

“Okay, I’m going to be gone a week, maybe two; cancel anything that can wait or that I can’t handle with a phone and a fax machine, and get Craven to take care of the rest. Tell him about Moyle’s leaving, and by the way, as soon as Les goes to lunch, clean out any files in his desk and briefcase, padlock his filing cabinets, and put his Rolodex in my safe, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed his deposition case and left the office.

“Got it, you complete and total shit,” Millie muttered under her breath.