“Sure, as long as you don’t tarry,” Marla said. “I had a rough day’s rehearsal.” She let him into the house and led him through the living room, which was adorned with theater posters and photographs, and to the kitchen door. “There you are,” she said, opening the door for him.
“I’m right over there,” Stone said, pointing.
“Is there a Mrs. Barrington in residence?”
“I’m a widower,” he replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. What time do you normally finish rehearsals?”
“Six, if I’m lucky. Two a.m., if I’m not.”
“On the off chance that you finish fairly early tomorrow night, would you like to come over for dinner?”
“Let me call you late in the afternoon,” she said, “when I have a sense of how great the disaster is.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and stepped out into her rear garden, then into the common garden.
It was a perfect night, and Stone had the feeling the following evening might be even better.
14
Herbie was in his new office by eight the following morning, putting away his papers and files and rearranging the furniture. The desk was good, but he decided he needed a really nice oriental rug to make the room better. There was a knock at his door, and Herbie turned to find a young man in a fairly nice suit standing there.
“Good morning, Mr. Fisher,” he said. “I’m Robert Bentley.”
“Come on in,” Herbie said. “It’s Bobby, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Herb. Let’s don’t stand on ceremony. There’s coffee in the pot over there.”
“Can I pour you some?” Bobby asked.
“Black, please.”
They sat down. “I know you’re disappointed not to be assigned to a partner,” Herbie said, “but you’re going to have more fun with me and learn more, too.”
“They damn near assigned me to Karla Martin,” Bobby said. “I look upon you as my rescuer, and I don’t care if you’re a partner or not.”
“The advantage of working with me is that I was where you are a couple of years ago, and I had my baptism by fire with Karla.”
“How did you get away from her and to a promotion so fast?” Bobby asked.
“I’ll tell you when I get to know you better,” Herbie said. “Don’t get the wrong idea: you’re going to have to work as hard for me as you would have for Karla, but nobody’s going to be yelling at you or taking credit for your work.”
“I can take yelling,” Bobby said.
There was another knock at the door, and a very small and pretty young woman stood there.
“Ah, Cookie,” Herbie said. “This is Bobby Bentley, our new associate. Bobby, this is Cookie Crosby, my new secretary. Pour yourself some coffee and sit down, Cookie.”
Cookie did so.
“Okay, this is the whole team,” Herbie said. “What we’re going to be about here is making rain. If we can do that, we’ll prosper together, although, of course, I’ll prosper more than you will-that’s just the law everywhere you go. So, if either of you has a second cousin or a great-uncle in a business in this town, talk to him or her about Woodman and Weld. The firm’s reputation will get your toe in the door, and I’ll do the rest. Right now, we have only one client, gained yesterday from Marshall Brennan.”
“The hedge fund Marshall Brennan?” Bobby asked.
“One and the same, and he has many interests. He’s given us a start-up software company, a bunch of smart kids who know nothing about intellectual property rights and probably not anything else, so we’re all going to become experts in what they need. Bobby, you and I will go down there later this morning and meet these, ah, gentlemen-we will never call them kids, and we’ll treat them as if they’re Steve Jobs, on the phone and face-to- face. Got that?”
Bobby and Cookie nodded.
“Good.” Herbie extracted a tape measure from a drawer and handed Bobby one end. “Take this down there. Let’s see how big a carpet we can cram in here.”
“Nine by twelve,” Cookie said, looking around. “You’ll want to leave some floor around it-it’s nice parquet.”
“Nine by twelve it is,” Herbie said. He sat down and put his feet on his desk, then a moment later stood up and rubbed his back. “This always happens when I put my feet on my desk,” he said.
“Then don’t use a desk,” Cookie said. “Just a comfortable chair, a table, and a couple more chairs.”
“That’s a thought,” Herbie said. “How do you know so much about this?”
“I used to work for a big-time decorator,” Cookie replied.
“Why did you leave?”
“The money’s better here,” she said, “and while I liked choosing things for other people’s houses, I didn’t much like dealing with the rich women who lived in them.”
“Tell you what,” Herbie said, extracting a credit card from his wallet and handing it to her. “Make a copy of this and take it down to ABC Carpet and buy a rug for me. You can spend up to twenty-five grand.”
“Which means I’ll be looking at things with forty-five-grand price tags,” Cookie responded. “I know how to bargain. I think a silk carpet with a lot of yellow and green in it. Silk wears better than wool.”
“Sounds perfect,” Herbie said “Force them to deliver it today. Bobby and I will drop you off on our way downtown.”
“You need a floor lamp for that corner, too,” Cookie said, pointing, “and maybe a desk lamp and an objet or two and some pictures to make you look smart and tasteful, Mr. Fisher.”
“You’ve got the idea,” Herbie said. “And call me Herb. Keep the whole business under fifty grand.”
“I can do that,” she said. “Now I have to get organized.”
“Me too,” Bobby said.
“The two cubicles across the hall are yours,” Herbie said. “Keep them looking neat.” He handed Cookie a typed list. “These are people whose calls I will take immediately,” he said. “Others, I will call back, and I always return my calls, so keep after me about that.”
Cookie left the office reading the list, her lips moving. She was memorizing them.
“Oh, and Cookie, order me some firm stationery with my name on it, no title, and some business cards. Order cards for Bobby, too.”
Herbie returned to situating his belongings in the office.
At eleven o’clock, Herbie and Bobby dropped Cookie off at ABC, then continued downtown.
“What are we going to say to these… gentlemen?” Bobby asked.
“Let’s play it by ear. Mainly, we want to give an impression of listening, then doing everything we can to help them, and not limited to the law. The CEO’s name is Mark Hayes. I don’t know who his partners are.”
High Cotton Ideas was situated on the top floor of a shabby-looking industrial building way downtown, in a corner of SoHo that did not appear to have become fashionable yet. They rode up in a freight elevator and walked into a huge, open room with desks and tables scattered about. Each desk had at least three monitors on it, and cables were strung haphazardly everywhere.
Herbie stood still for a moment and waited for someone to notice them: nobody did. “Mark Hayes?” he shouted. He saw a hand go up across the room. The head of the young man never turned from the computer screen. Herbie and Bobby strolled over to the desk and took in its owner. He was, apparently, tall and obviously skinny. He was dressed in very old jeans and a short-sleeved chambray shirt that had not been ironed and may not
