“I’ve never been there.” Clarice was surprised how much she was enjoying herself. The idle chatter about hotels, schools, and summer plans was surprisingly soothing. She wished Grey Navez had been able to be there but Grey had a tendency of canceling at the last minute.

“Pippa, it’s so fabulous your son is doing so well. Clarice told me the good news.” Judy bobbed her head.

“God, this has been the worst few years of my life,” Pippa blurted. “The World Trade Center, Alex…”

…I fired you, Judy thought to herself.

“But for some reason things seem to be falling into place now. Jennifer’s been cast as a Polichinelle next year in The Nutcracker, and it’s looking like she’ll be asked to be an apprentice in the New York City Ballet,” Pippa said with great pride.

“How wonderful!” Judy smiled. “And tell me do you still see Frankie Weissman? Because Arnie Berkowitz has found me the most wonderful doctor. And she returns your calls in a flash and you never have to wait in her office with all those welfare kids hacking their faces off. I feel lucky my daughters avoided cholera in there.”

The waiter appeared at the table. “Can I bring you ladies something else?”

“Yes. Will someone share a dessert with me?” Adrienne asked while chewing on a breadstick. “I’m on a roll and I’m not quitting.”

“I shouldn’t but I will.” Pippa gave her a conciliatory nod.

“I’m sorry, Pippa, I know Frankie Weissman helped your son. But I could never bear her.” Judy leaned in. “There are women I know who are single because, let’s face it, all the good men are married or gay. But I think she’s alone because she’s so self-righteous. You know it would be a lot less pathetic if she was a dyke. But, honestly, I don’t think she’s got enough pizzazz to do it.” Judy giggled. “How bitchy am I today?”

“Samantha says Frankie Weissman and her ex get on fabulously,” Adrienne said offhandedly.

“Don’t they have those delicious little cookies here?” Pippa was quick to deflect the conversation from Samantha. “That’s my favorite part of the meal. Waiter! Garçon! ” She lifted her hand. “We want those scrummy cookies.”

“And crème brÛlée!” Adrienne quickly added.

But Judy was not going to be sideswiped by a pot of burnt cream or petits fours. Finally, this meal with far too many carbs and oily salad dressing was going somewhere.

“Did Samantha really say that? I’m sorry but that is so gross, as my daughter Charlotte would say.”

“I really shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry, Clarice,” Adrienne apologized. “Paul’s been under a lot of pressure recently and I think it’s making me a little nutso.”