Two days after the conference, Tom called Eileen and asked if she would join him for dinner on Saturday. Because Eileen planned to go to brunch with Simon on Sunday at his yacht club—she did not know there really was such a thing but, well, Greenwich—she said she’d be very much like that.
On Saturday, then, Tom picked Eileen up at her house and after a brief introduction to Kerry they headed into Bronxville for dinner. It was a nice restaurant, quite full—he was glad he’d made the reservation—but neither recalled what they actually ate. Nor would either recall what they talked about. They simply ate and spoke and it, when they thought back on it, was just two people being comfortable with one another, comfortable in one another’s company.
When he drove her home and offered to walk her to the door, she, feeling much like the teenager she had not been for decades, said “that would be nice.” She did not wait for him to open the Audi’s door for her, although she knew that he would have if she had. He reached for her hand and she relished the touch. They were quiet as they walked up the path. He told her that he’d had a “lovely time” and she said that she had as well and he gave her a kiss, a bit bolder than it had been in Grand Central, and they wished each other good night, although not before she told him that she hoped to do it again and gently rubbed his cheek again.
Kerry had been (discretely, she thought) monitoring these goings on from upstairs. She ran down and asked her Mom had it had been.
“Kerry, it was delightful. But…I don’t know. He’s nice and all, a perfect gentleman, but he mentioned his dead wife again—I don’t think he was fishing for sympathy or anything but it’s just part of who he is, always thinking of her—and he’s like a really big deal at his bank. I was a failure as a wife and I work for this backwater bank that almost gives out toasters for new accounts. I think he’s just biding his time.”
Kerry directed her Mom to the couch, ordered her to sit, and plopped down next to her. “Mom. Just stop. You were not a failure as a wife. I mean that you got me out of the deal and I like to think that I didn’t turn out so badly. What happened between you and Dad, you just can’t go there.”
“But—”
“If you’re just going to dwell on that…Mom, you can’t keep going back there. You are smart, beautiful, and kind. Any man’d be lucky to have you?”
She did not really believe it but there was no convincing Kerry so Eileen said, “I guess you’re right” without conviction. “Honey, I had a good time with him. I’m tired. I need to get to bed.” And she did.
Tom
For his part, Tom enjoyed himself at the dinner in Bronxville, more than he had in a long time. Perhaps it was because it was a date that he arranged and not one initiated by one of his well-intentioned friends. He enjoyed it, and even more so when he thought about in the following days. So, he mentioned it a few days later, during his weekly check-in call from Andrea.
“Date? You want to talk about it?”
“Andi, it’s early days yet. She was nice and I enjoyed myself and I think she enjoyed it too. She’s a widow. Works in White Plains. I’ll just have to see how it goes.”
He assured her that she would be the first to be told of any advances, and she knew enough to leave it at that.
The Yacht Club
After her dinner with Tom, Eileen slept well and was deeply asleep when the phone’s alarm went off at 8. She dragged herself up and to the bathroom—Kerry’s door was closed—and after putting a robe on toddled down to get The Times in the front yard and brought it to the kitchen for a bowl of Special K and a coffee, with milk and perhaps too much sugar. She had plenty of time to get out of the house for the half-hour—there’d be no traffic on a Sunday morning—trip to Greenwich and Simon’s club. They were to meet at 11.
She flipped through the paper’s society page, wondering if she knew anyone who’d gotten married this week-end—she did not—and then through The Week in Review and it was time to get ready. She was thinking Great-Gatsby chic, but that would be too much. She went as casual chic as she could. The now-up Kerry gave her approval for a pair of black tailored slacks, a white collared-shirt, lime sweater, dark-blue blazer, and pumps with two-inch heels. As always, she kept the make-up and jewelry to a minimum, simple knot-earrings, a gold necklace, and the gold Raymond Weil watch Michael gave her on her fortieth. She did not understand but others did: anything more than the minimum was wasted on her and in truth detracted from her beauty.
Kerry gave her Mom a kiss goodbye and handed her her broad-brimmed hat to wear “if you sit in the sun,” saying Suze would be picking her up and they were headed to Beacon for the day.
As expected, there was little traffic to Greenwich, and Eileen pulled her Outback into the lot a bit before 11. As usual, lots of old-money, beat-up Volvos competing with new-money, sparkling Astons were parked there. She knew Simon had one of the latter; it looked good on him. The club was at the tip of a peninsula that jutted out into Long Island Sound.