SO MANY THINGS in common, not so much. Fran is a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker. Toni, not so much—she couldn’t remember uptown from downtown, would take a cab five blocks to eat. Walk? Ha! Fran holds a grudge. Cannot understand why or how you turn the other cheek. Be the bigger person? Let it go? NEVER! Toni, not so much—forgiveness was her nature, compassion her middle name. Figuratively she walked a mile in even a frenemy’s shoes. Fran had a style, more like a uniform: jeans or black pants, blazer, white tailored shirt. Toni had style; she loved clothes, a pop of color, a Judith Leiber bejeweled bag, a sweeping cape. But what they had in common filled a lifetime of memories. These ladies had fun. F-U-N. FUN. Going out on the town fun. Reading trashy tabloids fun. Never missing dessert, McDonald’s, or birthday parties with presents FUN. Who but a prolific Nobel Prize winner in literature and one of the most widely admired authors who published only four books would rent a limo for a night of bingo at the casinos in Connecticut?
