We were four frugal young teachers. But a couple times a year we treated ourselves to the best Manhattan had to offer.
As we approached the famous restaurant Lutece, we questioned whether we were dressed perfectly. Could we pass as urban
The maitre d’ met us at the door, all smiles and bows. When he took my raincoat, I began to look over the cozy little bar and anticipate the charming basket of pastry that was our appetizer. Then the maitre d’ returned to our group, gingerly holding a fabric softener sheet that had fallen from my coat sleeve.
“Madam,” he said, “Your Bounce.”