49
STONE AND ANNIKA sat up in her bed, watching a DVD of An American in Paris.
“Isn’t Gene Kelly wonderful?” Annika said.
“Absolutely wonderful. He’s America’s best dancer ever, in any discipline.”
“You know about dancing?”
“No, but I still have an opinion.”
“You think Kelly is better than Fred Astaire?”
“Astaire was great, but he was a ballroom and tap dancer; he didn’t have Kelly’s balletic training and sense. Kelly could do everything, often at the same time.”
“Better than Baryshnikov?”
“Baryshnikov is a product of Russia, although I think he’s Latvian or maybe Estonian by birth.”
“Good point.”
“Would you like to go to a wedding tomorrow?” Stone asked.
“Oh, Stone, are you proposing?”
“I’m just proposing that you accompany me to the wedding of Evan Keating and Gigi Jones.”
“They’re getting married?”
“That’s why I’m inviting you to their wedding. It’s at noon, at the Marquesa, in their cottage, and there’s lunch afterward in the restaurant there.”
“I’d love to. Let me see if I can swap shifts with someone.”
“Would you like me to put the movie on hold?”
“Yes,” she said, reaching for him.
“I thought you were going to make phone calls.”
“Later.”
Stone thought later was a good idea.
LATER, SHE MADE the calls and swapped her shift, then she snug gled next to Stone. “When are you leaving?” she asked.
Stone looked at his watch: past midnight. “Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll get an early start.”
“Is there room in your airplane for me?” she asked.
He turned and looked at her. “Are you really thinking about moving to New York?”
“I have an interview for a job in three days,” she said. “It sounds good. Of course, I’ll have to let my house and find an apartment in New York.”
“You won’t have to find an apartment; you’ll be staying with me.”
“In your apartment?”
“In my house.”
“You have a whole house?”
“I do. It was left to me some years ago by my great-aunt, and I renovated it, did much of the work myself.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s simpler just to show you.”
“How much luggage can I take on your airplane?”
“Two bags, not gigantic. Anything you need more than that, ship it.”
“Okay,” she said. “This is exciting.”
“Yes, it is.”
“We have had a great deal of lovemaking since you’ve been here, haven’t we?” she asked.
“More than I’ve ever had before,” Stone said.
“And you aren’t tired of me?”
“Not in the least. I’m not sure how long I can keep up the pace, though. I may need a little rest now and then.”
“Maybe now and then,” she said, throwing a leg over him.
STONE WENT BACK to the Marquesa in the morning, had break fast and called Bill Eggers.
“Morning, Bill.”
“Good morning.”
“I thought you’d like to know that Evan Keating and his girlfriend, Gigi Jones, are getting married today.”
“Congratulate them for me,” Eggers said.
“I’ll do that.”
“You can tell Evan, if his grandfather hasn’t already, that the sale of Elijah Keating’s Sons closed yesterday, and that I’ve wired his share of the proceeds to his bank in Miami. And it’s more than he expected, because old Eli got another fifty million out of the buyers.”
“So Evan’s share is four hundred and twenty-five million dollars?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Because Evan showed me the contract.”
“Oh.”
“What does a kid his age do with that much money?”
“He’ll think of something,” Eggers said.