Another letter came from the bank, this time a flat-out demand. Stone, his back against the wall now, called a real estate agent.
“I think it’s wonderful what you’re aiming at for the place,” she said, “but I guess you know what the New York residential property market is like right now. In good times, with the place finished and ready to move into, we might get three, three and a half million for this house. Right now, for an immediate sale, we might be lucky to get three hundred thousand.”
Stone was shocked. “Is the market that bad?”
“It is. Listen, you’re lucky; at least you’d get something out of a sale. I’ve got clients with perfectly beautiful town houses who are being forced to sell for far less than they paid, and they’re having to pay off the rest of the mortgage out of savings.”
Bright and early on a Monday morning, Stone presented himself to be examined for admission to the bar of New York State, along with about fifteen hundred others. Like everyone else, he labored over the questions. There were occasional gaps in his knowledge, but, on the whole, he tho
ught he did well; certainly, he aced the questions on criminal law. Now there was only the waiting.
He got home feeling enormously relieved. He had finished his study for the bar and the varnishing of the library at the same time. Now, if Cary could just get a break in her work schedule, maybe they could…
The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Bill Eggers.”
“Hi, Bill.”
“How’d you do today?”
“How’d you know?”
“I have spies everywhere.”
“Well, I did okay on criminal law, at least.”
“Good. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
“Fine.”
“The Four Seasons, at eight thirty?”
“Sounds good.”
“Don’t bring anybody. It’s just you and me.”
“If you promise not to put your hand on my knee.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not cute enough. By the way, I might have some news for you.”
“What sort of news?”
“Let’s wait and see.”
Chapter 32
The Four Seasons was busy, as always. The hum of voices from the Pool Room echoed enjoyment of the surroundings and the food, but Bill Eggers had a table in the Grill, next to the bar.
“It’s quieter here,” Eggers said. “It’s crazy at lunch, but at dinner everybody wants to be in the Pool Room. Here, we can talk.”
Stone wondered exactly what they would be talking about. This felt something like a job interview, but he couldn’t see Woodman amp; Weld hiring a thirty-eight-year-old novice as an associate.
They had a drink and dawdled over the menu. Eggers seemed in an expansive mood, relieved over the resolution of his Los Angeles case. “It was a bastard,” he said. “A bicoastal divorce case of one of our biggest clients. He was claiming New York residence, and she claimed they lived in California – she wanted community property.”
“Who won?”