“Okay, I’ll put my car in the garage,” Peter said.
—
They sat at the kitchen table and chattered as Helene served them moussaka.
“I’ve got an appointment with Marla Rocker tomorrow to see some of her casting choices,” Peter said. “Is Marla coming to L.A. with us?”
“No, she’s staying here to work on your play,” Stone replied. “She’s going to be very busy for a while, so I won’t be seeing much of her.”
“So, she dumped you, huh?” Peter asked.
Stone twitched. The kid was getting too smart. “We agreed to let it go.”
“So you’re going alone?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have friends at the hotel. You’re meeting one of them in a couple of days.”
“Who’s that?”
“Her name is Felicity Devonshire. She’s British.”
“Who is she? What does she do?”
“She’s a civil servant in London.”
“A civil servant?” Ben asked. “Does that mean she’s in intelligence?”
“Don’t ask,” Stone said. “And when you meet her, don’t start asking probing questions.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, “we’d only get lied to. You said a couple of friends. Who else?”
“Holly Barker will be there.”
“The one at the CIA? Great! I finally get to meet her!”
“Holly has recently been promoted. She’s now assistant director. In fact, she’ll be traveling with the president and Mrs. Lee, who, you will remember, is her boss.”
“Who will Felicity be traveling with?” Peter asked.
“With us, aboard the Strategic Services airplane.”
“What kind of plane?” Ben asked.
“A Gulfstream 550.”
“Wow! I guess there’ll be room for us all—Dad, too.”
“And Viv. Plenty of room for all.”
“And where is Felicity sleeping?” Peter asked.
Stone looked at him sharply.
“Well, Dad, if Marla’s dumped you . . . you need female companionship.”
“It runs in the family,” Hattie said.
“Felicity will have her own quarters. She’ll be there to meet with the president and Mrs. Lee.”