The day was nice and warm, and they sat on the veranda overlooking the Sound, a fair number of intrepid sailors braving the late-season swells and Long Island visible across the Sound, Jay Gatsby’s own dock out there somewhere. Over their omelets there were frequent interruptions by other club members stopping to say hello to Simon and being introduced to Eileen or, for those who’d met her before, to say hello to them both. It was a life that she could get used to.
Yet it wasn’t. Some of the glances and hand-shakes lingered a beat or two longer than they should have. There were some nods to Simon of the well-done variety. Somehow it felt strange that she had a Subaru and neither on old Volvo nor a new Mercedes.
This was not Simon’s fault. She really liked him. In some respects, he, long single, did not fit into the yacht-club crowd. To the contrary, he fit in well with the laid-back vibe of Eileen’s small bank. He was witty and charming (and handsome) with no pretense. She truly liked him.
She had a lovely time. And in town, where the two of them strolled after lunch, stopping in some of its boutiques. But she was tiring. When Simon asked whether she would like to see his house and maybe have dinner there, she begged off. This was a big deal, she knew, but not only was she tired but she was conflicted. She had not mentioned Tom to Simon. Nor, for that matter, Simon to Tom.
When Simon asked her to hang with him at his house, she understood it to be taking their relationship another step and she was not sure she was ready to take it, or whether she would ever be. So she politely said, “Perhaps another time, Simon. I’d love to see it, but I have to get back. I’ve had a wonderful time. Now I owe you dinner down my way.” And she asked if he was free on Saturday and if they could have dinner in Bronxville and he, a bit disappointed, said of-course-he-was and of-course-they-could. With a final kiss at her car, she gave him a hug and she proceeded to head home and think of Tom.
And this back-and-forth would be how it went for Eileen for the next month or so. She spoke regularly with each man during the week and went out with one of them, and sometimes both, each week-end. When she mentioned Tom’s existence to Simon on the first date they had after their Sunday in Greenwich he seemed to take it in stride. He had his suspicions that she had started seeing someone else, so he was not surprised. He was mature enough to realize that it would have to take its course, but he felt strongly enough about Eileen to hope that its course would end soon.
Tom took the news of Simon’s existence, at about the same time, in much the same way. He, too, was confident that he would prevail.
By early November, Eileen realized that things could not be sustained, that with Thanksgiving approaching a decision would have to be made. A realization heightened when Kerry and Suzanne told her that they were engaged. It set Eileen to thinking even more about “family” than she had for a while.
For his part, Tom was senior enough at the bank that he could slip out early. On an early November Thursday, he took advantage of this and called Eileen and out-of-the-blue asked if, one, she was free for dinner and, two, whether he could take her some place in White Plains.
Thus there she was, sitting in the same small Italian restaurant where she had lunch with Simon Douglas that day when he ran into her. She felt a twinge of guilt, that she would be performing a head-to-head comparison of the two men, but it was Tom’s suggestion and she saw no reason to veto it.
She found herself comparing the two, and it was like test-driving two high-end cars, a Mercedes and a BMV, say, in which each had so much to offer and each was so comfortable in its own way. She realized that by an objective standard, she would be lucky to have and happy to be with either of them.
There was one final test. After the table was cleared and they were waiting for their deserts and coffee, Eileen looked Tom in the eye and said “Kerry is engaged” and he said “that’s great” and she said “to a woman” and he said “what’s her name?” and with those three words he had passed—as she knew he would—and she said “Suzanne” and she smiled.
It was dark when their espressos were gone and Ubers were waiting for each of them when they left. They kissed, and as she headed south, Eileen knew she was in love.
A Decision
A Hobson’s Choice.
With the holiday approaching, Eileen knew she had to pick. Simon was everything a woman could want. He was handsome, rich, and caring. But, Eileen knew, he was not a man that she would love. She was grateful for having met him again and for having gone out with him. Not only did she enjoy it, but it also helped open her to possibilities she had long put aside.
On the Saturday before Thanksgiving, Eileen asked Simon if she could stop by his house. He was heading to Florida to be with his parents, and she and Simon were to meet later that day for dinner in Greenwich. She wanted to pre-empt matters, and for the first, and only, time she knocked at his door. He guessed the purpose of her visit and led her into his living room. It was around noon, and he got them both coffee. The house was new, big, and empty, meant to be filled by a family. Eileen ached because she sensed that Simon hoped that she would be part of that family.