Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 21

library, now empty of guests. “What was that all about?” he asked.
    “Oh, it was nothing,” she said. “Just Tim being Tim.”
    Stone nodded toward the gun cabinet near the fireplace. “I hope those are loaded,” he said.
    “My father always kept them that way,” she replied, “but you keep your hands in your pockets.”

49
    T hey lay on their backs in bed, naked, holding hands.
    “Well,” Stone said, “that seemed to go very well.”
    “Did it?” Arrington asked, sighing. “I hardly noticed. I didn’t have the time.”
    “Tell me about Tim Rutledge,” he said. “What did he want from you?”
    “Guess,” she said.
    “Was that all?”
    “Was that all?!”
    “Not to undervalue your virtue, but somehow it seemed more complicated than that.”
    “He wants not just my virtue but my house and my fortune.”
    “Did you explain that those things were already committed?”
    “I did so, and succinctly, but he wouldn’t take ‘No, not now, not ever, now get out!’ for an answer. You arrived just in time.”
    “Are there any other former lovers lurking about that I should be wary of?”
    “No, and he is included in that category because, for a year, you weren’t around.”
    “I wasn’t invited.”
    “Well, I was busy, I guess, and he was around. Constantly.”
    “Did you give him hope for the future?”
    “I did not. On the contrary, I actively and explicitly discouraged any thought of the future.”
    “Good. Then I don’t have to feel sorry for him.”
    “Oh, he’ll have moved on to someone else by next week—probably a married woman, that being his specialty. He’s known among the local matrons as ‘The Prong.’”
    Stone laughed.
    “Oh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Arrington said. “We have a family plot in the local churchyard. You’re welcome to join us.”
    “Is that where you wish to rest for eternity?”
    “It’s quite pretty, really.”
    “I always thought I’d like to be scattered somewhere.”
    “After cremation, I suppose.”
    “Yes, cremation obviates dismemberment.”
    “Scattered where?”
    “Someplace beautiful. Off the dock at the Maine house would be nice.”
    “I liked that house,” she said. “The cousin who bequeathed it to you had very good taste in houses.”
    “Yes, he did.”
    “You get bequeathed a lot of things, don’t you? Houses, paintings, airplanes.”
    “I do. I’m fortunate in my family and friends.”
    “Do you want me to tell you about my will?”
    “No, I’d rather know nothing, thank you.”
    “Not everything is in it. I’d better tell you a few other things. I’d been meaning to write a letter, and I may yet, but mostly it’s about how you would deal with Peter in my absence, should that ever occur.”
    “I am statistically likely to precede you into the Promised Land, but go ahead.”
    “I’m concerned that Peter might have too much, too soon, and I like your idea of keeping things in trust until he’s thirty-five, so I put that in there. You have the authority, however, to deal with that as you wish, up until he’s thirty-five.”
    “Thank you. I’ll try to keep a tight rein on things.”
    “I don’t think that will be hard, since he never seems to think about money, unless it’s in connection with his filming budget. I just don’t want a truckload of cash dumped on him before he knows something about handling it.”
    “I understand, and I entirely agree.”
    They were quiet for a moment.
    “Is that it?” Stone asked.
    “I’m thinking,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
    “All right.”
    “Give my jewelry, in reasonable amounts, to Peter’s wife, when he marries. Funny, but I’ve been thinking about Hattie as Peter’s future wife, which is silly, I suppose.”
    “We can wish for that,” Stone said. “They seem very well suited to each other.”
    “But they’re so young!”
    “And getting older every day,” Stone said. “He says she’s smarter than he is.”
    “No!” Arrington said. “I’ve never heard him say that about anybody !”
    “He’s probably never met anybody who’s that smart,” Stone pointed out.
    “There is that,” Arrington admitted. “He’s spent his whole life stunning me, on an almost daily basis, with his precocity.”
    “I’m beginning to get used to that,” Stone said.
    “Really? I never have.”
    “I still have difficulty thinking of him as a child.”
    “Well, he is. You’ll see that in him, eventually. It comes out