“He was in love with a stripper from New Jersey when he died. But who he felt safe with was you. He was in awe of Samantha, and even me by marriage, but somewhere he had total disdain for us, too.”

Frankie pushed Charlie’s hair out of his eyes. She had forgotten that he had as much distance from the world Jil aspired to as she did. Charlie seemed so genuine to her that she had forgotten he knew what it was to invent yourself, too.

As Frankie got dressed that morning Charlie watched her. “I wish you weren’t watching me.” Frankie pulled a turtleneck over her arms. “I’m like the ideal ‘before’ ad for dermabrasion.”

Charlie began to tickle her arms. “No, I’d say you’d be perfect with a little lipo here, a tummy tuck there, butt lift here, and I would suggest a breast reduction and a neck inflation. Inflated necks are very big this year.”

“Stop it, Charlie.” She chuckled.

“I’m not through yet. Then I’d sandpaper the face, and seal it with my own signature Dr. Charlie’s shellac. Finally I think a few ‘CA’ Charlie Acton gold logos on the chin would give you that perfect final touch.”

Frankie fell down on her bed laughing.

“Will my insurance cover all of this, doctor?” she asked between gasps for air.

“Just let me see you tonight, Francesca,” he asked. “I still don’t think I can face my apartment alone. When I’m with you I think there’s some semblance of sanity.”

Frankie remembered that she once saw Adrienne Strong-Rodman advising on Samantha’s TV show, “Go slow when starting a relationship. Don’t let him make any assumptions too quickly.” But as much as Charlie wanted a quickie semblance of sanity, Frankie believed she was beginning to fill that Grand Canyon of Need.

“I would love to see you tonight.” She kissed him.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you here after you run off with Jil Taillou’s art. If you can’t get me the Matisse sketch I’d settle for the William Merritt Chase in the library.”

When Frankie and Charlie left her apartment it was the first time her doorman had seen her holding hands with a man in the morning.

“Have a nice day, Dr. Weissman.” He tried not to show his interest in her new personal life.

Charlie and Frankie continued to walk together on the crisp late December day. The cars were now running down Columbus Avenue and children were getting back on the crosstown buses on their way to holiday playdates.

Charlie hailed a taxi. “Will you drop me off first?” he asked Frankie.

“Sure.” She smiled.

As he opened the taxi door Frankie felt a very unfamiliar ease as if she had joined a club she had forgotten existed. Life was clearly tenuous, even horrifying, but she was, for the first time in years, not merely examining it.