“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I had a feeling you were going to fix it.”
“You overestimate me.”
“I thought you would deny it, but I warn you, when you get home I’m going to torture you until I get the whole story.”
“I’ll look forward to that.”
She laughed. “Anyway, I’m relieved, and I wanted you to be relieved, too.”
“I’m relieved.”
“Have a good time at your gala tonight.”
“That will be torture, too.” They said goodbye and hung up.
That evening, when Stone came out of his dressing room, Dino was standing at the bar in the living room, sipping scotch and dressed in white tie and tails.
“I don’t know how you ever got me to have this suit made,” Dino said.
“I told you you’d need it, eventually.”
“You’re usually right about these things.”
Viv walked in from next door wearing a champagne-colored sequined dress and a piece of jewelry around her neck that Stone figured had cost Dino three months’ pay.
“Wow,” he said.
“Me, too,” Dino echoed. “Everything was worth every cent of what it cost, and I don’t want to know what that was.”
“That is the highest compliment you’ve ever paid me,” Viv said, kissing him lightly, so as not to smear her lipstick.
Holly made her entrance, her auburn hair piled on top of her head, in her strapless emerald green gown that set off her hair and skin color. Everyone oohed and aahed, and they had a drink while waiting for the other guests to arrive.
Stone opened the terrace doors and they stood, watching the elegant crowd as they spilled out of big black cars—Bentleys, Rollses, Mercedeses—and passed slowly through the doors and the security checkpoint, where metal detectors and X-ray machines were set up. Well-dressed guards from Strategic Services—no uniforms—greeted them while armored weapons specialists patrolled the courtyard and the rooftops.
“Everything seems in good order,” Stone said. When the bulk of the crowd had passed in, the women made one last pass at the living room mirror, adjustments were made, and they all took the elevator down to the main floor.
A string orchestra was playing light classical music in the big lobby, and handsomely uniformed waiters passed among the glittering crowd with trays of champagne and canapés. The American ambassador to France arrived through the main doors, accompanied by Lance Cabot. Stone took Holly’s hand and drew her closer. “Help,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fight her off,” Holly replied.
Just behind the ambassador, Marcel duBois entered alone to applause and made a beeline for Stone. They shook hands and embraced.
“Is it going well, do you think?” Marcel asked.
“It’s going beautifully,” Stone said.
Marcel shook everyone’s hand and admired the women. “You didn’t cash the big check, did you?” he asked Stone.
“Lance Cabot took it from me before I could,” Stone said.
Then a momentary hush caused everyone to look toward the entrance. Mirabelle Chance was seen first, in a flame-red gown, no doubt of her own creation, then behind her appeared her brother, Jacques, resplendent in a dress uniform with much gold braid. The crowd began to chat again, no doubt about the infamous Chances.