Stone Barrington 06-11

ate up, wondering about the kind of man who could order three Mercedeses, then forget about it. The longer he hung around Thad Shames, the more bizarre things got.

11
    S TONE AND CALLIE ARRIVED BACK AT THE HOUSE SIMULTANEOUSLY with Thad Shames, who climbed out of the back of a limo and tossed two briefcases to Juanito.
    “Hey, Callie, hey, Stone!” Shames called out.
    “Hey, boss,” Callie said. She pointed at the convertibles. “There are your cars.”
    Shames looked them over. “Nice,” he said. He bent over, removed the keys and tossed them to Stone. “Use it while you’re here,” he said.
    Stone walked along with him toward the house. “Actually, I was hoping to get a lift back to New York with you on Sunday,” Stone said. “Not much more I can do here.”
    “Sorry. I’m headed to the Coast on Sunday,” Shames replied. “Why don’t you stick around for a few days and relax a bit? Callie could use the company, and I can tell she likes you. You got anything urgent waiting for you in New York?”
    “Nothing that couldn’t wait a few days, I guess,” Stone admitted.
    “It’s settled, then.”
    They walked through the house, and Shames inspected the work done on the central hallway. “Oh,” he said to Callie, “I think we’ll have cocktails and dinner in the house. Big buffet, okay?”
    “But Thad, the house isn’t finished being painted,” Callie replied.
    “It will be by morning,” he said.
    “But there’s no furniture.”
    “It’s on its way; I called from the airplane. The painters will work straight through the night, the furniture comes at eight A.M., and tomorrow evening we’ll turn our party into a housewarming.”
    “Whatever you say, boss.”
    “It’s black tie, right?”
    “That’s what I put on the invitations.”
    “How many acceptances?”
    “Fifty couples, give or take.”
    “Nice-sized group. Feed them well.”
    “I thought Maine lobster, a bourride—that’s a garlicky French fish stew—and tenderloin of beef for the carnivores. Lots of other stuff, too.”
    “Whatever you say, Callie.” They had reached the yacht, and Shames led the way aboard, followed by Juanito with the two briefcases. He had apparently brought no other luggage. “Let’s talk a minute, Stone,” Shames said, beckoning to him to follow.
    Stone followed him to the owner’s cabin, the first time he had seen it. They walked into a large, gorgeously furnished sitting room. Juanito deposited the two briefcases on a big desk and left.
    “What do you think of Toscana ?” Shames asked.
    “She’s a dream,” Stone replied. “I’ve never seen anything like her.”
    “Neither has anybody else,” Shames laughed. “She’s my favorite thing. If I had to give up everything but one, I’d keep her.”
    “I can understand that.”
    “I wish we had time for a cruise out to the Bahamas this weekend, but I really do have to be on the Coast by Sunday night. We’re having another announcement shindig out there on Monday morning.”
    “Just what is this new technology your company is going to make?” Stone asked.
    “It consists of a circuitboard that replaces the modem in a computer, plus some extraordinary software we’re developing for both e-companies and users that gives every customer what very nearly amounts to a T-1 Internet connection over ordinary telephone lines, twenty-four hours a day, for a monthly fee of less than fifty dollars.”
    Stone knew that a T-1 was the fastest Internet connection, and that it required a special phone line to be installed. “That’s very impressive,” he said.
    “Don’t worry. I’ve already allocated your shares. Bill Eggers will buy them for you the day before the initial public offering.”
    “Thank you, Thad. That’s very generous.”
    “You’ll be tempted to sell them the first week, but don’t; hang on to them.”
    “I’ll take your advice.”
    Juanito appeared with two frosty gin and tonics. They touched glasses and drank.
    “Now,” Shames said, “tell me about Liz.”
    “I had lunch with her yesterday,” Stone replied. “She was apologetic about rushing away from Easthampton, but she had to come back here.”
    “She lives here?”
    “Here and in Houston. She’s a widow, not a divorcée.”
    “How long?”
    “Last year sometime. She seems excited about seeing you again.”
    Shames grinned like a schoolboy. “That sounds good.”
    “Thad, I have a lot else to tell you about Liz Harding,” Stone said, adopting a