"Anytime," says Darlington, and means it. When Palamedes compliments the house, he grins. "There's been a lot of work put into it," he says. "Here and when it was in New Haven. A lot of time and money spent, but it's been worth it."

He takes in the kitchen, the Delft tiles above the countertops, the rack of pots and pans above the stove, the heavy door of the old refrigerator and the dark wood floors that stretch into the butler's pantry and through the rest of the house. Affection, bone-deep and utterly genuine, flickers in his face for a moment. "It's the only place I ever really called home."