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times wanting to call you, wanting you to come to the restaurant and let me show you what I’ve done. I’m so proud of this place. Do you remember the first time I showed you the monastery—the grounds, the buildings? Do you remember that picnic we had out by the river, how it started to rain and we got soaked to the skin running like lunatics for cover? We ended up sitting in front of that fireplace right over there while a tornado blew its way across the St. Croix valley. I thought . . . I’d finally come home.”
    “Nathan—”
    “I know. I’ll stop. It’s just, seeing you here tonight after wishing you here so many times”—he sat back in his chair—“Okay. Tell me you’ll give me a decent review.”
    “Can’t. Wouldn’t be ethical.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Where are you living now?”
    “I took over one of the brothers’ rooms in the residence hall. It’s just a bed and a closet and a window, but I like it. It suits me . . . for now. I spend most of my days here at the restaurant, so why do I need a big place to live?” He picked up one of the napkins and began refolding it. “I bought myself a kayak last spring. I’ve spent some time on the river this summer. The St. Croix is incredibly beautiful, especially just before sunset. I’m thinking that I might get myself a cabin cruiser, moor it over in Hudson. I figure it will make me feel a little less like a monk. I mean, right now, my life consists of work, sleep, and the little time I steal from the restaurant to spend on the water.”
    He was so different from Bram. Bram’s idea of spending time outdoors was sitting in a soft chair on a veranda, sipping a cool drink. Where Bram was the type to haunt jazz bars, attend the theater and the opera, Nathan was rough, direct, a hunter and a fisherman.
    “I planted an herb garden this summer,” continued Nathan, “out by the vineyard the brothers started. Next year I’ll enlarge it. The idea of being able to step outside and, depending on what’s fresh, what’s seasonal, combine it with my own herbs really appeals to me. I love this life, Sophie. Every part of it but one.”
    She looked away, not sure what to say.
    “I’m lonely. No matter how much I fill my life with work, it isn’t enough.”
    “Is that why you accepted Elaine’s invitation?”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Does that bother you?”
    “No. Of course not. It’s just . . . you should know that Elaine was recently divorced.”
    “Ah. And I should be careful because she’s on the rebound.”
    “Something like that.”
    “Something like that, but not exactly .”
    She looked up. “What do you want from me, Nathan?”
    “Nothing. And everything. I’m glad Bram’s recovered.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I couldn’t compete with a sick man.”
    “There is no competition. I’m married. I love my husband. End of story.”
    “But I loved you long before you met him. We were supposed to get married. We’d be married now if it hadn’t been for your detour into religious insanity. You can’t deny that, Sophie.”
    “I get it now. You staked your claim first. I might as well be a piece of property.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “I think you did.”
    Out of frustration, he tossed the napkin on the table, then raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I take it all back. It’s obvious that you and Bram were fated to be together. I mean, how many times does a guy have to get shot down before he sees the light?”
    “I think you just mixed a metaphor.”
    “Call the cops.”
    Sophie’s wig pressed hotly against her head. Her brain felt like it was about to boil.
    “I won’t bother you anymore, Sophie. I mean it this time.”
    She could tell by the firmness in his voice that he was telling the truth.
    As if to soften the statement, he added, “If you can sit in my restaurant, eat my food, and not fall into my arms, I’ve done all I can do.” He looked around the room. “Maybe it’s time to stop