O n Friday morning Stone went down to his office, and Joan handed him a letter for Peter from the Yale School of Drama.
“I wanted to open it,” she said, “but I didn’t.”
Stone called Dino. “Did Ben get a letter from Yale this morning?”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “but I haven’t given it to him yet. Eduardo called, though, and said there would be good news today.”
“Peter got his today, too.”
Early Friday afternoon, Stone packed Peter and Ben and their luggage into the car and drove out to Teterboro. The Patrick family met them in the lounge at Jet Aviation, and they walked to the ramp just outside, where the Mustang awaited them. There was half an hour of stowing luggage and doing a preflight inspection, and Peter walked around the airplane with Stone, as he pointed out various items for inspection.
Stone settled the Patricks and Ben in the four rear seats, and put Peter in the copilot’s seat, then he closed the door, gave the group a briefing about seat belts, the emergency exit, and oxygen masks, buckled himself in, and started through his checklist. Peter followed him with the copilot’s copy, and Stone pointed out each item on the instrument panel as he checked it. Finally, Stone called the tower for his clearance, wrote it down, entered the route into the flight computer, and got permission to taxi to runway one. Stone talked Peter through the whole procedure, then, when they were cleared for takeoff, explained what was going to happen. He pushed the throttles all the way forward and started down the runway. A minute or so later, at two thousand feet, they were handed off to New York Departure and began their climb.
“I want to learn how to do this,” Peter said.
“When you’re a little older,” Stone replied. “In the meantime, you can read the flight and avionics manuals.”
“I want to learn now,” Peter said.
“You’re learning how to fly to Virginia now,” Stone replied. “In two or three years, you’ll be able to do it yourself. Learning to fly goes better when you have a reason to have an airplane. You’ll be at university, and you won’t need to fly anywhere for a while.”
“Oh, all right,” Peter said. “Can I talk on the radio?”
“Listen on the way down, and you can do the radio work on the way back. Radio procedure is an essential part of flying, and the key to it is to know what the controller is going to say next. Soon, we’ll get a clearance to a higher altitude, so you can expect that.”
The controller called and cleared them to their cruising altitude of thirty-four thousand feet, and Stone showed Peter how to change the altitude in the autopilot and start the climb.
“The autopilot really flies the airplane, doesn’t it,” Peter asked, “and you just tell it what to do?”
“Correct, but you also have to be able to do everything manually, if the autopilot fails for some reason.”
“Has it ever failed?”
“Not in this airplane, yet, but in my old airplane I once had a complete electrical failure and had to hand-fly it into Teterboro, using a handheld radio.”
“Wow,” Peter said.
“They don’t often let you do a visual approach at Teterboro,” Stone said. “They like everybody lined up on the instrument approach. I had to declare an emergency to get permission for a visual that day.”
An hour later they were descending into Charlottesville, and once on the ground they taxied to Arrington’s hangar, where the Gulfstream was kept. One of the pilots was waiting for them with a large van. He stowed their luggage and drove them to the house, forty minutes away, while a worker put the Mustang into the hangar with the G-III.
There was a buzz in the van when everyone saw the driveway, lined with a dozen huge oak trees on each side, and at the end, the house, perched on a little rise.
“This is very impressive,” Sean Patrick said.
“Most of these trees predate the original house,” Stone said. “Arrington bought three or four other mature trees and had them moved here to fill in any gaps. They seem to have taken root successfully.”
Arrington met them on the front porch, and introductions were made. “The photographer and crew from Architectural Digest just left,” she said to Stone. “They seemed to get everything they wanted.” She led the party into the house and gave them a quick tour of the ground floor-a broad hallway that ran through the house, with twin staircases on either side; a big drawing room and the dining room to the right; to the left the library and the kitchen at the rear of the house. When that was done she led everyone upstairs and showed them to their rooms, while staff delivered the luggage. She let everyone know that drinks would be in the drawing room at six-thirty.
“We’re at the end of the south wing,” she said, taking Stone’s hand. She led him into the master suite, a sunny sitting room and bedroom, with a dressing room and bath on each side.
“It’s gorgeous,” Stone said, looking around. “You were right: the house looks as though it has always been here and we’ve always lived in it. Except for my empty dressing room.”
“That will get filled as time goes by,” she said.
“I’m sure it will,” Stone replied.
“Now,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the canopied bed, “we have two hours until drinks, and you’re going to be very busy.”
In a moment, they were naked in bed. “God, how I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Stone said.
There was a knock on the door. “Mom?” Peter called, and tried to open it, but she had locked it.
“Later, Peter!” Arrington shouted back.
“The other houseguests have arrived,” Peter yelled.
“You’re appointed host. The butler will find them rooms.”
“How many bedrooms are there?” Stone asked.
“Ours, Peter’s, and five more,” she said, “but at the moment you may concern yourself only with this one.”
At six-thirty the whole group, including Mike Freeman, Bill Eggers and his wife, and Dino gathered in the large living room, and the butler, who was introduced as Somes, poured champagne for everyone, even the children.
“Just one glass for you three,” Arrington said. “With your parents’ permission, Hattie.”
“Just one,” Margaret Patrick said.
“Sure,” Dino echoed.
“Dino,” Stone asked, “maybe now would be a good time to deliver the mail?”
Stone and Dino each produced an envelope and handed it to his son. “We don’t know what the letters say,” he said.
Peter and Ben turned over the envelopes and inspected them.
“They haven’t been opened,” Dino said.
“We may as well,” Peter said, tearing open the envelope and reading the letter.
“Read it to us,” Stone said.
Peter held up the letter and read, “ ‘Dear Mr. Barrington, I am pleased to tell you that you have been accepted to the Yale School of Drama for the fall term. Your friend Mr. Bacchetti has been accepted, as well.
“ ‘I congratulate you both, and we look forward to seeing you this fall. You will receive a packet of information at a later date that you will need for enrollment and to help with arranging housing.’
“It’s signed by the dean,” Peter said.
“Mine says the same,” Ben said. Both boys stood there, looking astonished.
“Now we have something to toast,” Stone said. “To Ben and Peter, may they get everything their parents hope for from their education.”
There was laughter and applause, and everyone drank.
“Excuse me,” Sean Patrick said, “but our daughter Hattie has an announcement.”
Everyone grew quiet. Hattie stood and, holding her champagne flute, said, “Before Christmas I applied to both Juilliard and Yale to study music. I was accepted to both, and I have chosen Yale for my studies.”
Another uproar and more drinking. Peter and Hattie hugged each other, and she gave Ben a hug, too.
During the next hour they emptied four bottles of Krug ’99, and then Somes called them to dinner, opening the double doors that led into the dining room. They were served a salad, then a silver cart was wheeled in and Somes carved two rib roasts for them.
When they were on coffee, Somes’s wife, Marlene, who was the chef, came in and was introduced, fetching a round of applause.
They walked across the hall to the walnut-paneled library and were served coffee and cognac.
“If it were summer, we’d do this on the front porch,” Arrington said, “but in winter, it’s nice to be by the fire.”
Somes came in and put a couple more logs in the large fireplace.
They talked until after ten, then everyone went upstairs to their rooms.
“You’re going to have to perform again,” Arrington said, as she closed the door behind them.
“I’m up for a command performance,” Stone said, taking her in his arms.