BARBARA ETZOLD: The Right
Number
Barbara
Etzold always answered the phone whenever David
Konigsberg called for a friend who never seemed to be
available. On one level, this was natural; she was, after
all, a receptionist at Fred Alger Management. On another,
it was kismet.
Two months into this strange telephonic relationship,
Mr. Konigsberg mentioned in passing that he would be
stopping by the office, and Ms. Etzold popped the
question: "Why don't you take me out to lunch?"
The widowed receptionist and the divorced
health-benefits administrator became inseparable. In
1997, a year after their first date, the couple moved
into a house that Mr. Konigsberg bought in Jersey City.
They would boat together along the Hudson River, snorkel
together in the Bahamas, ride stationary bicycles
together at a local health club. "She and I were just
livers of life," Mr. Konigsberg said, referring to Ms.
Etzold, who was 43. "There wasn't enough."
Then, of course, there was their Harley- Davidson. The
two of them would zoom down to the beaches of New Jersey,
to an arts-and-crafts community in Pennsylvania, or to
the village of Cold Spring, in Putnam County. "You go up
that Route 9W and over the Bear Mountain Bridge," Mr.
Konigsberg said. "Especially at this time of year, when
it's the most beautiful."
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