The next day at work, Sara sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on the file she was reading, but her eye wondered to the pile of mail and the one envelope she had brought from home. She hadn't opened it last night after John had escorted her home. Part of her was apprehensive to read John's words, after such a disastrous and public ending to his engagement. Would the words be emotional and pleading or was it just as had he said, that he was just reaching out to a friend?

Her curiosity got the best of her and Sara ripped the envelope open. John's recognizable writing filled half a page.

Sara,

I don't know if you've heard the news that my engagement has ended. I think back to the night of my engagement party and can almost hear you saying 'I told you so John Moore.' And you would be right. I wanted to see what wasn't there and failed to see what was missing.

This letter isn't to bring up any events of the past. Plainly, I miss our friendship. When I think back to the days of investigating those horrible and indescribable crimes, I think mostly of the comradery that was shared between our small group. I think of what we gained and lost and it makes me ache for all that is gone.

If you are receptive to meeting as friends one day, I would most enjoy your company. If you would rather we go our separate ways, I understand that as well.

Your Friend,

John Moore

Sara read the letter again and set it on the desk. He seemed lost and sad, a glimmer of what she had seen last night and it made her heart ache. They had all been through so much over the years. In retrospect, it was their losses and tragedies that seemed to bind them and make them understand each other. Sara folded the letter and put it in a drawer.

She wondered if she had been here and received his letter, would have she reached out to him? Would have she waited, concerned he was just trying to continue whatever it is they had started and ended? Knowing what she did now, she was sure she still wanted John Moore in her life, but how did she do that and still keep her wits about her? There was something about knowing the man nearly her whole life, that he knew so much about her painful past and what she had been like when she was younger - it made her feel closer to him that anyone else. But it also made her pull away. He knew everything about her, he saw all the dark parts and all her inadequacies and had seemed to love her in spite of it. Or maybe she was no different to him. I wanted to see what wasn't there and failed to see what was missing.

Two days later, Sara was surprised to receive a call from John in the mid-morning inviting her for dinner that evening. There was something in John's voice that Sara couldn't decipher – hesitation or nervousness. Perhaps he felt as she did, that what had happened between them wasn't possible before, but circumstances had changed and there wasn't that barrier between them anymore. It felt like unchartered territory or perhaps their relationship would just go back to the way it was before.

"Seven o'clock?"

"Yes. Where shall I meet you?"

John paused. "Can I send a carriage to pick you up from the agency?"

"How mysterious Mr. Moore," she joked. Normally she liked to know where she was going, but she allowed it because she trusted John. "I will be ready ten to seven."

The day was busy as Sara continued to catch up. She wanted to look over all the cases that had been worked on while she was absent so she knew what she had missed. It was nice to have Bitsy and the other women working with her that were so invested in this agency, almost nearly as she was. They knew these type of positions were very rare for young women, where they were in the thick of investigations and meeting with clients, not just part of a secretarial pool.

She had taken some calls and even though she hadn't left the office that day, Sara realized she'd hardly eaten since breakfast, besides the pastry Bitsy had dropped off for her in the afternoon. It was a bad habit that she got caught up with the work and lost track of time. She looked at her father's watch and realized the carriage would be there shortly. She walked over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. She tended to wear her hair tightly pinned up and no colouring on her face. It distracted people from seeing her and taking her seriously. But John knew her no matter how she looked. If she didn't know the girls had left for the evening, she would be embarrassed to be found looking at the mirror, scrutinizing what she saw. She changed into a fresh dress she kept at the office – it was light grey with dark pinstripes and bought out the colour in her eyes. She unpinned her hair, feeling the freedom of her hair loose around her shoulders. She put her hair back up, looser and less severe so the hair across her forehead naturally curled from the heat and dampness of the evening.

When she left the building, the carriage was waiting for her. It was still early evening and the warmth of the day was slightly cooler. The streetlamps wouldn't be lit for another hour. Sara got into the carriage and wondered where she would be taken. Her first thought was Delmonico's because they'd frequented it so often. As the carriage continued on through the rough cobblestone street, to the smoother roads in the better area of the city, Sara realized she was a little apprehensive and lit a cigarette to ease her nerves.

She was thoughtfully finishing her cigarette, completely lost in thought when the driver called to her, "We are here Miss."

Sara looked outside and laughed out loud when she saw the front door of John's familiar house. "Thank you."

She exited the carriage and went up the stairs, ringing the bell. She was surprised yet again when John answered the door, not his housekeeper Mabel. "John," she smiled.

He smiled back, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He opened the door and she entered, not sure what to expect.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet," John said, almost formally.

"Of course," Sara said slightly amused. "You could have just said for me to come to your house."

John shrugged a little sheepishly. "I wasn't sure if you would be agreeable."

"I've been here plenty of times John." For a moment her mind went back to that morning, bright sun shining through the windows around the heavy drapes. John's fingers gently trailing over a crisp white sheet, unaware that she was watching him. She nearly shook her head to push the thought aside.

She followed him into the house.

"It's been…challenging to be out in the public." John admitted. "I never realized how intrusive the society pages were until I was the subject."

Sara tilted her head slightly. "I'm sorry John. I know how you don't like people to speak ill of you."

John dismissed her comment. "It's not that. It just became hard to enjoy an evening out when I knew I was being constantly watched. So besides going to work, I stay in most of the time right now."

"I was surprised Mabel wasn't at the door."

John turned to Sara slightly as they walked into the dining room. "I gave her the night off. While I was at home so often, she taught me some culinary skills so I made dinner tonight. I hope you don't mind."

Sara tried to hide her slight shock at hearing this. John was used to be waited on, not the other way around. Had it really only been six weeks since she'd last seen this man? As she looked at the back of his head, his dark brown hair trim and neat, she realized he'd gotten his hair trimmed since she had saw him two days earlier. Perhaps he'd wanted to look nice for her as well.

He gestured for her to sit at the dining room that was set with blue and white patterned dishes that Sara recognized as his grandmother's. "Can I offer you a drink? Wine or bourbon?"

"A bourbon please."

John poured her a drink and himself a small glass of wine. Sara wondered if John should be drinking at all, but she said nothing. She took the glass and held it up. "What shall we drink to?"

John who was never short on words looked at a loss and Sara spoke up to ease his discomfort. "How about to friends? I've certainly missed our friendship John. And Laszlo's," she added quickly. "The whole group we assembled during those dark days made it seem all the more empty when we all went our separate ways."

John touched her glass lightly with his, the sound seemed almost loud in the quiet space. "I have missed my friends as well."

His voice nearly cracked with emotion and it was the first time that Sara saw a flash of the old John – emotional, raw and truthful. She didn't realize how much she had truly missed him until that moment and a strange feeling came over her. She felt a knot in her throat and her heart beat faster. She took a drink and set down the glass.

"I've been catching up on your articles." She smiled a little. "Bitsy set them aside for me while I was away. They are intriguing John. You write with such passion."

John looked at her, obviously caught unaware of her compliment. "Well, it is all I have in my life so I feel I should make it interesting for the readers."

He sounded so matter-of-fact, that again Sara had trouble recognizing the man in front of her.

"Once this has all cleared over, you can go back to your life John. It won't take long. Soon everyone will have moved onto some other scandal."

John frowned. "But there is nothing else Sara. When I thought I would be a father, as much as I felt I was losing other things, that singular thought felt it made all the sacrifices worth it. But now none of that exists and I realize there is nothing there." His hand turned his glass on the table, a distraction he didn't seem to be aware of.

The defeat in his voice took Sara aback and before she could stop herself, she reached over and her hand closed over his. He didn't even realize this for a few moments and then his hand went still and he slowly met her eyes.

"You have your friends John. That has not changed. I was away, but I'm here now. Laszlo, Marcus, your true friends are not far from you."

John seemed to take this in then stood abruptly. "I'll check on dinner."

It's then that Sara realized the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. She followed John to the kitchen and he stopped quickly realizing she was behind him and she nearly ran into him. "I need to see this new side of you John, knowing your way around a kitchen. And the smell of the food is divine because I realized rather late that I didn't eat lunch today."

John's dark demeanor faltered slightly. "It may be burned. I have had that happen numerous times."

"Then we shall eat a slightly charred dinner. But I am not leaving this house John Moore, until you serve me the supper you have promised."

John chuckled slightly and Sara's heart was warmed by it. She leaned against the doorframe and took a drink as she watched him go to the oven, taking some cloths and removed a pan of roasted chicken and vegetables. He seemed nearly at ease and Sara realized this was the most comfortable he'd looked since she'd seen him the other day. She almost asked him if she could help with anything, but didn't want to break his concentration as he moved the items from the pan to a serving dish.

Back at the table, he served her and then himself and Sara looked at the food with hunger before taking the first bite of chicken. It was delicious, moist and full of flavour from spices she couldn't place. She closed her eyes briefly and enjoyed the bite. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised that John watched her, fork paused, a curious expression on his face.

"It is delicious John. I wonder what other hidden talents you have that I'm not aware of."

John looked pleased for a moment, but then took a bite of his food and said nothing further.

They ate in near silence that felt to Sara as though he didn't even really notice she was there. "What other dishes have you learned from Mabel?"

John paused to take a sip of wine. "I have cooked meatloaf and Mabel seems to be confident that I can conquer bread next."

"Was she a little surprised that you wanted to learn?"

John nodded. "When I said I wanted her to teach me some cooking, she nearly dropped the plate she was holding. But she's been rather enthusiastic to help me. I think she was also growing tired of seeing me pace around the house like a caged animal. Although, I'm sure it was preferable to the stumbling drunkard that I was for many nights," he added as an afterthought. "I realized the cooking kept my hands busy so I wasn't doing other things I should avoid."

"Are you drawing?" Sara asked.

John shook his head. "I haven't felt inspired to. And work fills my days for the most part. Its distraction has been a saving grace." He looked at her. "But what about you, tell me about your investigation in Boston."

Sara stopped from taking a bite of roasted potato and then slowly chewed, trying to find a way to change the subject. She patted her mouth with a grey cloth napkin. "It was certainly interesting to work in a different city. It took some time to get my bearings."

John looked at her for a moment longer, but then went back to his food.

After just small talk between the two of them, Sara pushed her empty plate away from her. "That was better than any Delmonico's meal, John." She said truthfully.

He smiled slightly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He pushed his plate away from him as well. "Did you care for dessert? I can't take credit for that. Mabel prepared a rhubarb pie."

"I think I will need some time before I am ready for any more food. Perhaps in a little while."

"Did you want more bourbon?"

Sara nodded and he refilled her glass as well as his then they went to the drawing room.