“We’ll do it again,” he promised. He hadn’t wanted to push her before this, but now he could see that she needed to be prodded, to get her out of the house. “I think we should do this a couple of times a week,” he suggested. It sounded like hard work to her, babysitting her the way Sam had been, to get her through her sorrow. “How about Friday? Marielle is going to the house in Connecticut for the weekend, and I have to stay in town.” She and her parents had visited them there. It was an enormous estate.
“You don’t have to do that, Ed,” she said gently. “I’m okay. I’ve just been very sad.”
“That’s understandable. But now we need to get you un-sad, or at least feeling better. Do you like the ballet?” he asked, and she nodded. “I have season tickets and no one ever wants to go with me. Marielle hates it. I waste the tickets most of the time. We’ll do that one night. And maybe a play.” It sounded above and beyond the call of duty to her, and she felt guilty taking up his time. It was already nice enough that he stopped in to see her every day on his way home from the office. She was familiar with her father’s will now. He had left everything in such good order that there were very few decisions to make, except about where she wanted to live. She was still living at home, and had never had her own apartment, and didn’t want to, especially now. She wanted to live in theirs forever. But she felt lost and alone in the big apartment. She was grateful that Sam still stayed there with her most nights, but eventually he would get tired of that too, or his parents would complain. They had been sympathetic so far, and hadn’t objected. But Sam hadn’t had a date or a night off in two months, except when she’d had dinner with Ed at La Grenouille. He asked her about it the next day.
“Did it go okay with Ed last night?”
“It was very nice. We had a good dinner and came home early. It was kind of nice to be out.”
“We could do that too, you know, start eating at restaurants.” They’d been eating the meals Theresa left for them for two months, and sometimes Sam brought in burgers or pizza. Coco didn’t care what she ate. She nodded at his suggestion, but he could see that she didn’t really want to go out for dinner. She watched movies with him at night now, which was a good distraction.
On Friday, Ed’s secretary called her again, and said he would come by for her at seven-thirty. She said they were going somewhere informal this time, and Coco felt awkward refusing, so she didn’t.
She sent Sam a text that she was seeing Ed again. She wore black jeans and a sweater, and Ed took her to a small cozy Italian restaurant. She had a nice time with him, and he called her on the weekend afterward to see how she was. She was sounding better, and more like herself. She went for a long walk in the park with Sam both days. The weather was still warm and it felt good to be out in the air. She felt like an invalid who was slowly recovering from a terrible accident.
Sam had to have dinner with his family on Sunday night, and he’d been home for Shabbat when she had dinner with Ed on Friday. She was surprised when shortly after Sam left on Sunday, the doorman rang and said that Mr. Easton was on his way up.
“Is everything okay?” She looked surprised when she let him in.
“Fine. I was just thinking about you, so I thought I’d drop by. Is Sam here?”
She shook her head and smiled. “I gave him a night off.”
“He’s certainly a faithful friend,” Ed commented. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, and looked years younger than he did in a suit. He had a good haircut, and smelled faintly of cologne. She was wearing jeans and a sweater too, with her long dark hair down her back. She looked startlingly pretty, and as usual was unaware of it.
“We’ve been friends since I was nine and he was ten,” she said about Sam. “He’s like my brother.”
“You’re not in love with him?” he asked and she smiled.