The drive to Bram’s house took fifteen minutes, much of which James spent pressed against the passenger window, commenting on the structural style and elegance of the long established neighborhood.

They ended the drive on a short, circular driveway in front of a graceful, two-story, red brick home. Wrought iron rods, spirals, fence posts and grates adorned much of the building. There was even an elaborate weather vane topping the patina-colored, copper roof of an octagonal tower. The approaching twilight hid the rest of the home’s period features.

Awed, James climbed out of the truck and followed Bram up the steps of the wide porch. He waited while Bram opened two heavy-duty locks on the entry door, and then preceded his host inside.

Once they passed through the marble-floored foyer, the adjoining rooms became massive, all boasting nine-foot, domed ceilings, stylized, ten-inch baseboards and oak hardwood floors. Ancient oriental rugs accented leather and dark oak furniture groupings and numerous original landscapes done in oils and watercolors hung on the walls.

They passed through one large, open room completely bare of furnishing. One wall was almost completely glass, a series of lead-paned French doors that opened out to a courtyard. James could see a small fountain and several stone benches outside. “What a great room! The natural light in here must be outstanding. Why don’t you use it?”

“I was going to make it into an office, but it’s just too big. It would be a waste.” Bram looked around the mahogany-paneled room admiringly. “So now, I’m waiting for inspiration to hit me.”

“Wow. It would be a terrific place to work. You should reconsider.” James’ gaze drank in every feature of the room, from its carved ceiling rails to its massive marble fireplace and built-in ceiling to floor bookcases.

“I’ll think about it.” Taking in James’ delighted, awed reaction to the room, Bram’s expression became thoughtful. “Something will come up.”

Bram led James down a long hallway, pausing to hang up their coats on the way. They emerged in an updated, gleaming kitchen complete with granite-topped counters and a gourmet eight-burner stove.

“I don’t know about you, Jamie, but I’m starving. What do you say we eat some of this before it gets too cold and then I’ll give you a tour of the old place?” Bram set the bag of food on the center island and began to unpack their dinner.

James rubbed his hands together and sniffed the air. “I can’t wait to see the place, and as much as I’d like to take up where we left off in the restaurant,” he patted his stomach, “I’m running on empty here.”

James joined him at the counter, taking a plate Bram offered, filled with Mrs. Giovanni’s spicy-smelling, cheese-filled pasta sleeves covered in a thick layer of rich, meaty sauce.

“Those appetizers were great, but they only got me warmed up.” James smirked and seductively licked a smear of sauce off his index finger.

Bram reached over and pulled the finger from James’ mouth. He wrapped his hand around the enticing digit and shook it. “Put that thing away. At least until we’ve eaten.”

Picking up his own plate and the bottle of wine, Bram pulled out a stool with his foot and kicked it toward James. “What time did you eat lunch?”

James slid onto the stool and started eating. “Skipped it. And since I don’t eat breakfast,” he chewed and swallowed a huge bite of manicotti, “this is the first decent food I’ve had since yesterday.” He forked up another mouthful and chewed. “This is fantastic. Good thing Vito’s open-minded. I could get addicted to this.”

“We like the same foods. That’s good.” Smiling, Bram poured two glasses of wine and handed one to James.

The younger man accepted it, but took three more bites of pasta before sampling the vintage. “Sorry.” James worked the solitary words in between bites. “Hungry.”

“Don’t apologize, eat.” They ate in silence for several minutes, devouring the meal Vito had packed.