I was in the kind of Fifth Avenue apartment last night that I imagine Jackie Onassis lived in. In fact, it may have actually been the building she lived in. It was the kind of place Woody Allen used to call home back when he was with Mia – with the most splendid view of Central Park and Central Park West I have ever seen. At twilight, it was like a framed picture in the living room. Except real.

I knew I was in the right place when I saw a Secret Service man in the lobby. The guy looked like a nut job talking into the collar of his jacket. Senator Hillary Clinton was expected and he seemed to be on high-alert.

They had one of the last of the old man-operated elevator cars. Like the one in the  apartment building I grew up in on Riverside Drive, the elevator was wood paneled with a copper gate. Unlike the one on Riverside Drive, it had a bench in the back to sit on. Most of these old elevators have been replaced by automatic elevators. However, I believe that those old Otis elevators were the best elevators ever made – they ran for years and years without breaking down. At least ours never did. Once they got the new automatic one – Out of Service was a regular occurrence.

When the elevator neared the 8th floor, we could hear the buzz of a lively party. Senator Hillary hadn’t arrived yet, but the guest of honor, Marian Fontana, author of the just published "A WIDOW’S WALK: A MEMOIR OF 9/11",  was standing at the door looking ravishing in a black blouse and a sparkly purple skirt.

What a book party! Waiters passed around really interesting hor d’oeuvres including small crispy shells with goat cheese topped with raspberry and kiwi. I asked if it was whipped cream because it looked so desserty but he said: "No, it’s Chevre cheese." 

There was white wine and non-fizzy bottled water in the elegant dining room. Throughout the apartment there were museum-quality paintings – but there were so many people I could barely pay attention to the art.

Senator Hillary has a very calm, dignified aura, excellent posture and beautiful hair and skin. Standing by the picture window, she made a short, heartfelt speech in honor of Marian and her book – extemporaneously with an easy cadence.

Calling it an incredible love story, Senator Hillary said that she thinks Marian’s book is an important book about loss and recovery – a subject all the more pertinent now in the aftermath of Katrina. She also said that it was a book about two great American families. "Dave and Marian met in college, fell in love, and they took their families along with them for the ride."

She could almost have been talking about herself and Bill.

Marian and Senator Hillary have known one another since the State of the Union address in 2002.  Marian says that, like many of the activist 9/11 survivors who were "adopted" by politicians, she was adopted by Senator Hillary and Rudy Giuliani.

They’ve spent a good deal of time together lobbying on behalf of the survivors and the firefighters. Marian, in her short speech, called Senator Hillary one of the very, very, very few politicians who are trustworthy. "We need her and she needs our support," Marian said.

Marian was in tears as she thanked Dave’s family for being there. "May I say something Marian?" Her mother-in-law, Toni Fontana, said quietly from the crowd. "I just want to thank you for loving Dave so much."

Not a dry eye in the house after that one. Marian continued to thank her hosts, her publisher, Simon and Schuster, and the other  fire widows "without whom I would never have survived a single day."  Then with the instincts of the performer that she is, Marian added, "and I have come up with an ass stamp that I am going to use when signing my books."

Many in the room laughed through their tears at this point. The crowd was a bewildering mix of wealthy Fifth Avenue friends of the hosts, the Simon and Schuster crowd, fire widows, Park Slope and Staten Island friends and family.  Leslie Crocker Snyder, the woman who is running for District Attorney in Manhattan against Robert Morgenthaul, breezed through the room, introducing herself and shaking everyone’s hand.

You can learn a lot from the rich. If you want a party to end at 8 p.m., you disappear the wine: at 7:45, there was only non-bubbly water left at the bar. The last of the delicious hor d’oeuvres got passed around and the waiters grabbed up all the wine glasses, napkins and platters of crudite.

"I guess we should be going," some of the Park Slope friends were saying. The hostess, Beth Dannhauser, a  lovely woman who does "touch therapy" with critically ill patients at Cabrini  Hospital, stood by the door with her more business-like husband, and thanked everyone – really sincerely – for coming.

We hailed a cab in front of the building and joined Marian, friends and family at Fetch, a low-key restaurant on Third Avenue, where we took up much of the place. A lively group of revelers happy to celebrate their friend.