the house。 〃Maybe it's supposed
to be a secret； but it's slowly creeping out anyway。 I had a
remendation from a friend in New York who's been here。〃 He paused；
then confessed； 〃I'm not a total stranger to Newport。 Little pton；
yes。 Newport； no。 I was here last summer。〃
〃You were？〃 she asked cautiously。
He nodded。 〃I spent several days here sailing with friends。〃
〃I didn't know you sailed。〃
〃There's plenty you don't know about me。〃 With a flick of his wrist； he
turned the car into a space in the graveled lot。 He slid from behind the
wheel； rounded the car； and helped her out。
She learned something else about him when they passed through the door
of the sprawling seaside estate。 Not only did he greet the maitre d' by
name； but he spoke in fluent French。 Along with her Southern accent；
Chloe had long since lost what little French she picked up as a child in
New Orleans。 She remained silent； enjoying the smooth； romantic sound。
Following several moments of low conversation during which both men
seemed equally at ease； the maitre dishowed Ross and Chloe to the
smallest of the three rooms that had been converted for public dining。
It was exquisitely decorated in Colonial style； with a smattering of the
English； a dab of the French； and a triumphant dose of pure Americana。
This particular room held only three tables； each set for two。 Th