32
Stone and Carla went to the Mayflower Inn for dinner, and as they entered, piano music was coming from the bar.
Carla perked up. “Who’s playing?” she asked.
“David Grossman plays in the bar on weekends,” Stone said. They stopped at the bar’s entrance, the dining room still ahead of them.
“Can we eat in the bar?” Carla asked.
“Sure.” Stone let the headwaiter know, and they found a snug table along the wall facing the bar and not too far from the pianist, who was playing standards twice as old as he with great fluency. They ordered drinks and menus.
“I like this inn,” Carla said.
“Lots of people do. It was designed as a school by the same architect who did my cottage and the big house next door, called The Rocks, and it was redone at great expense by a retired stockbroker and his wife who recently sold it to somebody I don’t know.”
Their drinks arrived, and they began looking at menus. Stone looked up and saw Bob Cantor standing in the hall outside the dining room.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Carla said. “Ladies’ room.”
Stone moved the table out for her and decided to go and speak to Cantor.
“Hey,” Cantor said, as Stone approached. “Let me introduce you to Bonnie Pepper. Bonnie, this is my friend, Stone Barrington.”
Bonnie Pepper was small, blonde and cute. “Hello, Bonnie, it’s good to meet you. Bob, have you already been to the house?”
“Oh, yeah, it only took me ten minutes to change the circuit board and reprogram the system.” He dug into a pocket and produced a card with a four-digit number written on the back.
Stone looked at the card. “These are the last four digits of my Social Security number,” he said. “How did you know that?”
“There’s nothing I don’t know or can’t find out about you, Stone,” Cantor said.
“You want to join us for dinner in the bar?” Stone asked.
“I think we’ll go to the dining room,” Cantor said, winking.
Clearly Bob wanted to be alone with his girl.
“Was that your date who walked out ahead of you?”
“Yes,” Stone replied.
“I know her,” Cantor said.
“Lots of people do.”
Someone tapped Stone on the shoulder from behind. He turned and found Harlan Deal standing there.
“Harlan!” Stone said, half in surprise, half in shock.
“Good evening, Mr. Barrington,” Deal said. “What brings you to Connecticut?”
“I have a house here,” Stone said.
“Would you like to join some friends and me for dinner?”
“Thank you, Harlan, but I’ve already eaten, and I want to turn in early. It’s been a long week.”
“Of course,” Deal said.
Stone glanced over Deal’s shoulder and saw Carla come out of the ladies’ room. He hoped to God that she saw Harlan.
“I’m very grateful for the good work you did on the prenup,” Deal said.
“I’m glad to have been of help. I hope you’ll both be very happy.” Carla had not seen Deal. She was walking straight toward them. Then she stopped, started walking backward, and disappeared into the ladies’ room again.
Stone tried to control his sigh of relief.
“Actually I’ve changed my mind and decided not to marry her,” Deal said.
“A gentleman’s prerogative as well as a lady’s.”
“I felt she was unfaithful.”
“I’m sorry.” God, he wanted to get away from this man, but he kept a smile frozen on his face. He was determined to let Deal break off the conversation first.
Cantor broke in. “Excuse us, Stone. Our table is ready,” he said.
Stone gratefully turned toward him. “Bob, Bonnie, I hope you enjoy your dinner.” He watched them walk into the dining room, then turned back, hoping to find Deal gone.
He was not gone. “Are you sure you won’t join us, just for a drink?”
“Perhaps another time.”
“I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity,” Deal said. “I’ve been house hunting all day, and I think I’ve found something.”
“Congratulations, where is it?”
“It’s called The Rocks, and it’s only a quarter mile from here.”
The Rocks was the big house next door to Stone’s. “Oh? I hadn’t heard it was on the market.”
“It isn’t, but my agent, Carolyn Klemm, showed it to me anyway. Anything is for sale, you know, at the right price.”
“Well, Carolyn should know. She sold me my house, too. In fact, it was originally the gatehouse for The Rocks.”
“Well, if I buy The Rocks, perhaps you’ll sell me your place, and I can reunite the two.”
“I don’t think so, Harlan, but I’ll be happy to have you for a neighbor.” This was an outright lie, and Stone hoped it didn’t show.
“We’ll see,” Deal said. “Well, I’d better join my friends. Good night.” Deal shook his hand, turned and walked into the dining room.
Stone ducked into the bar and peeped into the hall, looking for Carla. She came out of the ladies’ room and bolted for the front door.
Stone flagged down the bartender. “I have to go. Put the drinks on my account.” He found Carla in the car, waiting for him.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “That man is everywhere.”
“He certainly is,” Stone said, starting the car. “I think we’ll dine elsewhere.”
Stone and Carla sat on the bed, watching a DVD of Singin’ in the Rain and eating a large, heavily laden pizza that Stone had picked up at the pizza parlor in the village.
“I love Gene Kelly,” Carla said.
“So do I.”
“I think he’s the best dancer this country has ever produced.”
“Better than Baryshnikov?”
“Baryshnikov was produced by Russia.”
“Oh, right.”
“I think he’s a terrific singer, too.”
“So do I, but he’s not as good as you, and as far as I know, he didn’t play piano, either.”
Stone’s cell phone vibrated on his belt. He looked at the calling number in the little window. Bob Cantor was calling. What the hell did he want? He ignored it and let it go to voice mail. He considered telling Carla of Harlan Deal’s interest in The Rocks but thought better of it. That might put a damper on their sex life.