She was just a New York girl to me. Her family is from Scarsdale, Park Avenue, and East Hampton. She and Paul summered in Amagansett. Before they married, she had a little apartment in the Eighties on Third, with her daughter. It wasn’t a New York apartment; there were things in the refrigerator. She was domestic – I think he liked that about her.
Years later, the whole family was staying at the Stanhope, and I went over to see her – and then we all went to the Metropolitan. I used to spend a lot of time there when I was a lonely youth – and so did she, it turned out. She knew the European galleries so well.
Up until John was killed, they’d walk the streets, and people would laugh or point or go into paralysis. But not after 1980. All that became impossible. They were worried about the kids, I think.
When I talked to Paul, I guess he was semi-in-shock. But very voluble, eager to be consoling: “Wasn’t she great? Wasn’t she beautiful?” He said, “We can’t talk about her in the past tense. She’s still here, she’s still here.”