Nico's recently ex-husband was Dirk Winston, a pale, stocky novelist who was considered potentially important for about ten minutes after his first book came out six years ago. When he moved to New A tfbrk from Boston, he was taken up by the Diekes, a young married couple who were both ambitious journalists. He and Winnie Dieke had been friends at Harvard.
The two couples would have dinner at Dirk and Nico's house in Sag Harbor. Winnie would sit at the table and poke at Nico's cordon bleu
cooking with her fork. "Well, it certainly looks interesting," she'd say Then she'd put her fork down and touch her mouth with her napkin. "Nico, why do you want to be on television?" she'd say. "There's no real journalism on the television. You should be a chef."
"I like TY" Nico would say.
Months later, Nico and Dirk were walking through Grand Central Terminal and a well-dressed young man in a suit walked
up to Nico and said, "Aren't you on ABC?" Dirk turned and walked briskly out of the station. Nico went to the Oyster Bar and ordered a Bloody Mary and six bluepoints. At eleven-thirty A.M.