Louise Espy, Willard’s widow, died Saturday night, at home, in New York.  Of Julia Jefferson and Robert Hamilton Espy’s eighteen grandchildren and their spouses, she was the last.
     She and Willard married in 1962.  It was her second marriage, his third.  Although Willard had always made his living as a writer, it was Louise’s encouragement and support that catapulted him into best-selling author status.   Seventeen of his eighteen published books, were written during his years with Louise.
     Once long ago, on a walk through the woods, Louise confided to me that she regretted not having had a career of her own.  How fortunate for Willard and for all his fans and followers that she did not!  She devoted full time to Willard.  She did research for him.  When needed she served as copy reader, editor, and public relations coordinator.  She managed their social calendar and oversaw the entertaining of friends and business acquaintances.  She saw to it that Willard was ‘free’ to write.
     Louise was the quintessential New Yorker.  For one thing, she never learned to cook.  With a deli on every corner, why bother?  She could whip up a family dinner or a sumptuous buffet with a few phone calls and a short shopping spree of an afternoon.  So, in the early ‘70s when she and Willard bought the little red cottage in his beloved Oysterville, Louise felt a bit challenged.
     It was often Jayne Bailey to the rescue!  I remember many a Coq au Vin prepared in Louise’s own Le Creuset pan by Jayne and served with perfect savoir faire by hostess Louise.  She always gave total credit to the real cook who she thought was “a culinary genius.”
     I remember, too, the time that Louise invited us to her “first-ever-made-from-scratch apple pie.”  She was SO proud.  Come to find out, the crust was store bought.  “Oh, that’s just the crust,” she said in her foghorn voice.  “I meant the pie part!”  Of course, she meant the filling part, but we didn’t quibble over how many parts equal a pie.  I remember the twinkle in Willard’s eye… but he, too, clapped and cheered over her success.
     I think that Louise could truly be termed “a character.”  One of her most predictable and often very annoying habits was her gift giving.  “This is really a very expensive cashmere sweater,” she’d say.  “It just doesn’t go with anything I have.  Do take it.”  And when I’d get it home and try it on, I’d make the ‘discovery’ – a stain on the back or a cigarette hole in the sleeve.  Always some little flaw that made the item unusable.  Did she do it on purpose?  I could never decide.
     She was the best-ever tour guide of New York City.  Whenever we were lucky enough to visit there, we stayed with her.  She always directed us to the best shows, accompanied us to must-see exhibitions at MOMA or the American Folk Art Museum, arranged for cocktails at the Century Club, convinced us to accompany her to the movies in the afternoon, and insisted we do all our traveling by foot or subway.  No taxis!
     She professed to feel inferior because she didn’t graduate from college.  Yet she spoke several languages fluently, read the New York Times cover-to-cover every day, rubbed elbows with politicians, writers, artists of note and, I always thought, was intellectually superior to almost everyone I knew.  It’s hard to believe she is gone.