She had a kid

I stayed close to her only child, the late Francesca Hilton. A biker type daughter. Later, when Zsa married Frédéric von Anhalt, became bedridden, and her Bel Air mansion became unreachable, Francesca not only sued for visitation but to learn her mother’s medical conditions. I printed all that in 2012. Her spokesman Ed

Lozzi then reported to me. “We won. Now Francesca’s allowed one-hour-a-week visits — alone — without him in the room but with a caregiver, lawyer or officer present and the door shut.” I reported Francesca telling me: “The new rule is my lawyers get bank statements and canceled checks to monitor Mother’s money. It’s all her money. There must be full accounting . . . Now a bond’s required lest there be misappropriation or funding his press conferences and parties at Mother’s house.”

Does her mom recognize her? “Yes. She squeezes my hand. She mouths a few words. I’m now allowed on holidays such as Christmas. She once called me ‘the brat.’ It’s how I announce myself. I say, ‘The brat’s here.’ ”

When I houseguested, my room had orchids, Champagne, caviar. No phone. So savvy. So smart. When a manicurist wanted $40 I only had $30 plus a $100 bill. “Don’t give the $100,” they warned. “She’ll make change then want a tip. Say you only have $30. She’ll take it.” I did as I was told. She took the $30.

I spent years and years living with them. I never knew anyone that sharp. I loved Zsa Zsa Gabor.