Peter was married to his Stanford sweetheart for 17 years before their divorce.
He moved out, bought a condo, had the kids every other weekend and showed up at all the games and parent-teacher meetings. He paid for Burke’s and Town school.
For a few years, as an avid bachelor, he dabbled at D.R./R. (Dating Research/ Romance.)
At first, he was like a kid in a candy store. Peter was meeting women right and left. He joined the Commonwealth Club, the Stanford Bachelors Club, the Sierra Club, and his pals fixed him up. Then he met Shelley.
They were an item for two-years, until they weren’t. They parted amicably. He gave her the 18K Tiffany Heart Tag Choker as a parting gift.
A true romantic, Peter dated many women- a few times – and was in a handful of semi-long term relationships. One, maybe two years, of togetherness seemed to be his threshold.
He had proclivity for blonde, 40-year-old, bridge and tennis players. You might say he dated a “type” (or the same woman over and, over again.)
C’est la vie
First his jaw hurt, then his right arm, as he was preparing for a trip to Paris with a side trip to Capri with friends.
The symptoms persisted. He was about to call for the car to the airport, but the last heart-clenching pain in his chest had him dialing 9.1.1.
Peter had these classic warning signals before, and was too busy with The Foundation to pay attention. The paramedics found Peter, front door open, on the floor. He could not be revived.
His children and ex-wife organized the funeral.
Years earlier, he had carefully crafted the obituary for the local papers. It was long and listed his many charities and accomplishments. All references to family were succinct and formal.
His former wife and her husband and the two adult kids sat in the front pew.
Across the aisle, sat six women. At first glance, you would say they could be sisters. They were all wearing variations of a dark St. John Knit suit. They each carried a Kate Spade bag. All were wearing the identical gold Tiffany Heart Tag Choker.
Every one of them considered herself to be “The One” in Peter’s life. Little did they know, he had accumulated lots of “The Ones.”
None of the women attended the Celebration of Life reception in the cathedral hall.
Once they looked at each other, and realized the similarities- the expensive pocket-book, the Tiffany necklace, the dark St. John Knits – short skirt, long skirts, or pleated skirt – they realize they look like Stepford Wives…and one-by-one, they eased out of the church quietly and gracefully, quickly- never to be seen again.
Ironically, three of them showed up at Le Colonial for drinks. They did not speak to one another. Bottoms Up.
“Feminism has never been sexy, but let me assure you that it never stopped me from flirting, and I have seldom suffered from lack of men.” Isabel Allende