“You’re very observant. I’ll use a maritime analogy. The wisdom in those pages keeps me anchored when I’m drifting into ambiguous waters.”

Carina thought about the contrast between Austin’s warmth and the way he had coldly dispatched her attacker. She replaced the book on the shelf. “But there is nothing ambiguous about the pistols over the fireplace.”

“You’ve exposed my weakness for collecting. I’ve got around two hundred braces of dueling pistols, most stored in a fireproof vault. I’m fascinated by their history as well as the art and technology that went into them. I’m intrigued by what they say about the role of luck in our fates.”

“Are you a fatalist?”

“I’m a realist. I know I can’t always make my own luck.” He smiled. “But I can make your dinner. You must be hungry.”

“Even if I weren’t, the wonderful fragrances coming from your kitchen would make me believe I’m famished.” She handed over the bottle of wine.

“A Barolo,” Austin said. “I’ll open it and let the wine breathe. We’re dining al fresco.”

While Austin went to uncork the wine, Carina wandered out onto the deck. The table was lit with oil lamps whose colored glass lent a festive appearance to the setting. Lights sparkled along the Potomac, and there was the slightly rank, but not unpleasant, smell of the river. Austin put on a recording from his extensive jazz collection, and the soft piano notes of an Oscar Peterson number floated from a couple of Bose speakers.

Austin came out with two chilled glasses of Prosecco. They drank the sparkling Italian wine with an antipasto of Prosciutto di Parma over honeydew melon. Austin excused himself and came back with plates of fettucine with cream-and-butter sauce. Carina almost swooned when he blanketed the dishes with shaved white truffles.

“Dear God! Where did you find truffles like this in the U.S.?”

“I didn’t. A NUMA colleague has been going back and forth to Italy.”

Carina devoured the fettuccine, along with the secondi course, a sautéed veal chop, and a mushroom-and-cheese salad, again with white truffles. They polished off the bottle of wine. She didn’t slow down until she came to dolce, or dessert. As she dug into a dish of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, she said, “This is magnifico,” for about the tenth time during the meal. “You have added master chef to your array of accomplishments.”

“Grazie,” Austin said. He had been amazed at Carina’s gusto but not unpleased. A hearty passion for food often revealed appetite in other areas. They finished off the meal with small frosted glasses of limoncello liquor.

As they clinked glasses in toast, Austin said, “You never told me how you came to be babysitting an old statue on its journey to America.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time, as well as another bottle of limoncello.”