Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman Page A

thank you for that kindergarten lesson in social relations.
    “What do the other women at school think of this Dwight?”
    “I’ve never discussed him with anyone at school. There hasn’t been any reason to discuss him with anyone. But I think, in general, he’s seen as geekish.”
    “Why?” she asked indignantly. “Are they all married to male models?”
    “No.”
    “Would they be jealous if you became involved with him?”
    I laughed. “I can safely say no one would be jealous.”
    “Will I like him?” she asked.
    I thought, Actually, no; politically, having given lip service to a beauty’s-only-skin-deep policy, she’d pretend to. I said, “He’s a fine person.”
    “Of course he is,” she said warmly. “I can’t wait.”
    I arrived before Dwight. Bernice wore all black, her pageboy covered by a turban of black jersey. People glanced at her, said something to their companions, and glanced back discreetly. Her escort was gray-haired, pink-faced, strongly perfumed. He was introduced as Ted Dichter, the man in her life. “Where’s yours?” she asked.
    “Dwight’s meeting us.” I asked how Ted and Bernice knew each other.
    “Through real estate,” said Ted.
    “Buying or selling?” I asked. He laughed appreciatively as if I had exhibited a precociousness for real-estate jargon.
    “Both,” said Bernice.
    “I was a guest on the show,” said Ted.
    “It hasn’t aired yet. You have to see it: Boston’s most eligible bachelors over fifty-five. We had a lawyer, a gynecologist,a politician, a developer.” She prompted him, “Who else was there?”
    “A professor, the colored guy.”
    “That’s right. Is that five? Isn’t that a great premise?”
    “Great,” I said.
    Ted Dichter looked at Bernice with a coy smile. “And when it was over, she touched my hand and said, ‘Whoever the woman in your life is, she’s very lucky.’ As it turned out, there wasn’t a woman in my life, so I took the liberty of asking your mother to have dinner with me.”
    “Why, just like Marlo and Phil!” I said to Bernice.
    Bernice touched his arm to signal time out. Would he check on our reservation in the dining room? As soon as he walked away she said, “I think I’m going to marry him. He keeps asking me.”
    “How long have you known him?”
    “Almost a month.”
    “Isn’t that a little soon?”
    “He’s sixty-one, and at that age no one wants a long courtship.” She looked up. Her features were being assembled into a joyless smile of salutation. “Dwight?” she said.
    He was there suddenly, in a gray banker’s suit and yellow bow tie, expressionless and still, as if reporting for duty. I stood up. “Bernice,” I said, “this is Dwight Willamee.”
    She let her hand move up slowly from her thigh to shake his. “I’m so pleased,” she said.
    “I never miss your show,” said Dwight with the faintest of smiles.
    “You’re lying,” said Bernice. “You have to be. I know you’re at work at nine. You’re just flattering me, but I love it.”
    “Mr. Willamee never lies,” I said. Bernice looked at meknowingly as if I had slipped and called him by a private pet name.
    “Hi, April,” said Dwight.
    “You look nice,” I said.
    “There’s Ted!” said Bernice. We looked up. He was motioning for us from the doorway.
    As soon as we were seated and I had introduced the men, Ted said, “Did your mother tell you I’m trying to get her to say yes to marrying me?”
    Bernice smiled prettily and studied the menu.
    “Just this minute,” I said.
    “How does that sit with you?”
    “Well, I’ve only known you—”
    “In theory, I mean. Any objections to her getting married?”
    “Not at
all
,” I said.
    “What about you, son?” asked Ted.
    Dwight looked at me, all innocence, and said, “None whatsoever.”
    Ted took Bernice’s hand in one of his and mine in the other. “I know it’s been just the two of you for such a long time, it might be hard for you to share her.”
    I