T he following afternoon Stone attended the meeting between Hank Hightower and his people and Eggers’s department heads at Woodman amp; Weld. He drank a double espresso after lunch, which kept him from dozing off and having his head strike the conference table at an inopportune moment. Too many facts about the insurance business traveled into one ear and out the other, without stopping in his brain. Once or twice he was called on to nod sagely or speak an encouraging word, and at the end of the meeting, when everyone stood and shook hands and walked to the elevators together, he was of the impression that the meeting had gone very well and that a new and important client was in the offing.
“I thought that went very well,” Eggers said, as Stone walked with him back to his office, “and that we may have a new and important client in the offing.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Stone replied. “I was very impressed with how you made it possible for me to attend the entire meeting without having to voice an opinion or make any other substantive contribution.”
“And that double espresso kept you bright-eyed,” Eggers remarked. “I must pour that stuff into all our people before after-lunch meetings.”
“Cocaine might work, too,” Stone suggested.
“Well, we wouldn’t want anyone to giggle or break into song, would we?”
“You have a point.”
“I want to congratulate you, Stone,” Eggers said. “In the space of a year you have brought three large and profitable clients into the fold. That’s an impressive achievement, even if you did have to marry one of them.”
“I regret that I have but one bachelorhood to give for my firm,” Stone replied.
“I’ve spoken to the attorney in Virginia, who has already accomplished the name change in that state. The petition was advertised in a weekly publication aimed at tobacco farmers, so it is unlikely to be noticed by gossip rakers. Our partner here, who is a board member of Peter’s old school, has had a discreet word with the headmaster. No information of any kind about Peter will be conveyed to anyone outside the school, which, in any case, is their longtime policy on privacy for students.”
“Thank you, Bill. By the way, Peter got a letter from Yale after he left for school this morning.”
“Good news?”
“Joan tried to get me to let her steam it open, but I resisted. I think, whatever information it contains, it would be best if Peter were the first to read it.”
“Well, let me know,” Eggers said. “I think I’m more nervous about this than you are.”
“Peter feels that both he and Ben Bacchetti are very well qualified to be accepted at Yale, and that the interview, should they be invited for one, will be the crucial test.”
“How did they do on the SATs?” Eggers asked.
“Ben did extremely well in all three categories, coming out with a combined score of 2140 out of 2400.”
“And Peter?”
“He aced the thing.”
“A 2400?”
“That’s right. They both did lots of activities in prep school as well, including working for charities, which is looked upon with favor these days. Ben was the editor for his school paper and wrote a column, and Peter has a nearly complete film to show.”
“You’d think that would get them into any school in the world,” Eggers said.
“Who knows?” Stone replied. “It was a lot easier when you and I were applying to NYU Law School. These days you can’t know how these admissions committees work.”
“Do they have backup schools?”
“Ben has already been accepted to Columbia, but Peter has no backup.”
“It might not hurt if he did.”
“The better I get to know Peter, the more I realize that he habitually assesses the possibilities and alternatives of any situation and chooses what he thinks is the best path. If he felt he needed a backup, he’d have one.”
“He has a lot of confidence.”
“He calls it structured optimism.”
Eggers laughed. “I like that.”
“Let’s hope Yale likes it, too.”
“What are you doing this evening?”
“Ben’s off to Choate next week, and we’re having an eighteenth birthday party for him at the house. I’ve rearranged my gym to provide a dance floor, and we’ve hired a DJ, and they’ll all eat in the kitchen.”
“Are you chaperoning?”
“Joan and Helene, my housekeeper, are handling that; they’re a lot tougher than either Arrington or I would be. I’m setting the motion detectors on the first floor so that if anybody tries to make it to a bed, the alarm will go off and lights will flash.”
“Smart move. Good luck.”
Stone got back to the house in time to be there when Peter returned from school. Joan handed him the letter, and he carried it to Stone’s office.
“I got a letter from Yale,” he said, holding it up.
“Good,” Stone replied.
“I’m going to read it now.”
“Good idea.”
Peter stared at the envelope a little longer, then he picked up a letter opener and carefully slit the envelope flap and removed the letter. He unfolded it and read aloud: “‘Dear Mr. Barrington, we are in receipt of yours and Mr. Benito Bacchetti’s applications and their relevant enclosures. We have scheduled an admissions committee meeting for 11:00 AM this Friday, the 7th, and we invite you and Mr. Bacchetti to be interviewed at that time. If this is seriously inconvenient, please phone my office to make other arrangements.’”
Peter flopped down on the couch and heaved a huge sigh. “Wow!” he said. “It’s signed by the dean of the School of Drama.”
“I’ll drive the two of you up to New Haven on Friday morning, if you like,” Stone said.
“I like,” Peter replied. “Ben likes, too. Holy cow, I have to call him!”
“Call him from your room, if you will. I have work to do here, and I don’t want to listen to your squeals.”
Peter ran up the stairs, waving the letter.
Joan came in. “I was listening,” she said. “This is so great!”
“Isn’t it?” Stone said. “Where’s his mother?”
“Out shopping.”
“I didn’t think I could make him wait until she returned to open the letter. He would have exploded.”