Arrington came and sat on a stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I take it I just missed Ms. Bianchi?”

“Yes.”

“I saw her drive away.”

Stone turned. “Did she see you?”

“No.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I like the cottage; it suits you.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you choose it with Ms. Bianchi?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate on that.

“I like it even better, then.”

“I’m glad; you’ll have to bring Vance and Peter over.”

She said nothing.

“What brings you out on a Sunday morning?”

“I thought I might go to a country auction, then I found myself driving by the green and thought I would rather see you.”

“Oh.” He poured them both a cup of coffee. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes. When you live with Vance Calder, there’s always a servant at hand to grant your every wish.” She didn’t sound very happy about it.

“So, how’s life in LA? Do you like it out there?”

“It’s all right, when I’m not being kidnapped.”

“I hope you haven’t made a habit of it,” he said.

“No; you were kind enough to put an end to that. I’ll always be grateful.” She put her hand on his.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“I know you’re not very comfortable with gratitude; but I had to say it, anyway. Vance feels the same way. He likes you very much, you know.”

“And I like him.”

“Let’s sit in the living room,” she said, taking her coffee and making her way to a sofa.

Stone followed and sat down next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them.

“How have you spent the time since we last saw each other?” Arrington asked.

The memory of their last time together flooded back. They had been in the bedroom of a Bel-Air Hotel suite, and Arrington had been naked. “Oh, the usual”, he said. “A little work, a little play.”

“How is Dino?” she asked.

“Very angry; he doesn’t like his family being in danger.”

She nodded. “And Elaine?”

“Exactly the same.”

“Give them both my love, will you?”

“I will.”

There was a long silence; Stone struggled to find something to say. “Are you writing?” he asked, finally.

“I started a novel, but after a couple of chapters I sort of gave up on it.”

“Don’t give up. You’d write a very fine novel; you have all the skills.”

“I don’t know that I’m cut out to be a novelist,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I think that, in order to write a good novel, you have to be able to face reality, and I’m not very good at that.”

“What is it about reality that you find so hard to face?”

“The reality is that I want to be with you.”

That sucked the wind right out of Stone; he was unable to respond.