I pulled my Ludwig Bemelman's book out of my bag. I thought she might remember him or Elsie de Wolfe.
"Look Mama" said my friend, "look at the name of the book."
She pulled the book from my hands with her long, scarlet-tipped fingers and peered at the title down her perfect little nose.
"To. The. One. I. Love. The. Best." she read and then burst into an enormous laugh.
"Well honey that is quite marvelous" she said.
"Can you believe it? What are the odds?" said my friend.
"Oh, P, that's just perfect" said her friend Warren, who'd just walked into the room and was looking over her shoulder at the flowery cover.
"Mama P writes that on every letter and every card she ever writes" he said, smiling at me. "It's her signature piece."
It's true. There really are no coincidences. Or as my friend Wendy's mother used to say "You are always where you are supposed to be."