Alex Hitz remembers his friend Nan Kemper. Sometime during the early fall of 1998, when I was new in town and still living in the Carlyle Hotel, my telephone rang. An unfamiliar but booming voice came through the receiver: - “Hello Darling. It’s Nan Kempner.” - “Well, uh, hello, Nan,” I replied meekly through my shock. “How are you?” Certainly, I knew who she was, although we had never met. - “Very well, darling. Listen, I’ve got some people coming in for lunch on Friday, ab