“Ten million dollars for all the rights, plus five percent of the gross. Don’t worry, when he sees what I’m seeing, with titles and a score, we’ll do better.”
“What did he say about a limited license?”
“Exactly what I thought he’d say, but wait until tomorrow. I’ll hear from him by noon his time, maybe sooner, if he’s really excited.”
“When you talk to him again, tell him he has to make the various unions happy about the release, at his expense, and he has to pay Hattie Patrick, who wrote the score.”
“Good point.”
“Thank you, Mort. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“How old is your boy?”
“Eighteen.”
“I want to meet him.”
“Of course; we’ll arrange that.”
“He must be very smart, if he got into Yale.”
“You have no idea,” Stone said.
62
S hortly after noon the following day, Stone got a call from Morton Janklow.
“Leo got back to me,” Janklow said. “We’re at twenty million and ten points.”
“Wonderful. How about the rights issue?”
“Seven years. I think that’s good. Peter will end up owning his film outright.”
“That’s perfect, Mort.”
“Leo is okay with dealing with the unions, and he likes the score, so he’ll pay Hattie Patrick a hundred grand. If Peter wants to give her or anybody else points, it has to come out of his end.”
“You’ve done a great job, Mort.”
“I’ll send Peter our representation contract to sign, and make sure he understands our commission is fifteen percent.”
“I’ll explain the facts of life to him.”
“If I know Leo, we’ll have contracts in a couple of weeks, and after we iron out the fine print, we should have a check in a month or so.”
“Thank you again, Mort.”
“When the contract is finalized, bring Peter to my office to sign, and he can meet some of our people.”
“I’ll do that.” Stone said good-bye and hung up.
Joan came in holding a letter. “This came from Bill Eggers,” she said, handing it to Stone.
“This is an outline of Arrington’s estate,” Stone said.
“That number,” Joan said. “Is that now yours?”
“Yes, except Peter gets it when I die.”
“Then I never have to worry about paying your bills again?”
Stone chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you do. I’m not touching this money.”
“I always thought you were nuts,” Joan said, “but now I know it.”
Stone laughed. “I want these numbers kept strictly between you and me,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to see them.”
“Sure thing,” Joan said, then returned to her office.
Stone called Bill Eggers. “Thanks for your letter, Bill,” he said.
“It’s just a summary of what I talked about with you and Peter.”
“I don’t want the money,” Stone said.
Eggers was quiet for a moment. “Stone, listen to me: I understand that your feelings are still raw about Arrington’s death and that you feel you shouldn’t profit from her passing.”
“That’s very understanding of you, Bill. It’s exactly how I feel.”
“There’s something you’re not considering, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Arrington’s feelings on the matter. When I first met with her about her estate planning she told me that you would feel this way.”
“She knew me well.”
“She also told me that, if I could keep you from doing something foolish about the money, you would eventually come to your senses. It was her wish that you have the money; she wanted that very much, and you have to take her wishes into consideration.”
“If she’d asked me, I’d have told her how I feel about her money.”
“She already knew; that’s why she didn’t ask you.”
“If she knew that, why did she make this will?”
“Because she was smarter than you, Stone. She knew that, in time, you’d understand her wisdom and accept it.”
“That hasn’t happened yet,” Stone said.
“Give it time, Stone. Take a year or two, then think about it again. You’ll find satisfying uses for the money. Now I want you to promise me you won’t do anything rash, that you’ll consult me before you start disposing of the money, even to Peter. Just let it sit there and grow.”
Stone sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll check with you before I give it all away.”
“By the way, you need to make a decision about developing the Bel-Air property as a hotel and let Mike Freeman know. He’s got investors and a management company on hold.”
“Good point,” Stone said.
“I think developing the property is a good idea,” Eggers said. “I can’t see you living in Bel-Air, and if you need to go out there, you’ll have a house on the hotel grounds.”
“I don’t really want that,” Stone said.
“Then the hotel can rent it in your absence.”
“All right, I’ll talk to Mike about it.”
“Stone, maybe you should take a vacation. How long has it been?”
“I don’t know, years, I guess, but Peter’s in school. When he’s out for the summer I’m going to take him up to Maine for a while and teach him to sail.”
“An excellent idea. Another idea: as I recall, you have the lifetime use of the house there, and then it reverts to the foundation, according to your cousin’s will.”
“That’s correct.”
“My bet is that the foundation would be very pleased if you bought the house from them now. Then they won’t have to wait for you to die to get their property. They’d only sell it then, anyway. That would be a good use of your inheritance, and Peter will always have the house.”
Stone brightened. “You’re right, Bill, that would be a good use of the money. I’ll get in touch with them and make an offer for the property.”
“Good man. Now I have to go back to work.”
“Thank you, Bill. I feel better now.”
“Just remember your promise.” Eggers hung up.
Stone didn’t wait. He looked up the name of the foundation president, called him and made him an offer for the house. The man said he’d discuss it with his board and get back to Stone.
Next, Stone called Mike Freeman.
“Good morning, Stone. My men are on the job.”
“Yes, I know, Mike, and thank you. I called about something else, though.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Arrington left me the Bel-Air property. I want to proceed with the hotel development.”
