There are a couple of good-sized divots in the ice cream, but nothing to suggest that Beckett's been having a hard time lately. He suspects that ice cream, like his novels, are indulgences that Beckett allows herself privately. 'Restraint' is a word that doesn't pop up in Castle's vocabulary very often.

He takes a spoonful of ice cream. "I was doing a junket for the pre-release of Storm Fall and they sent me to Italy. Don't know why -- 'guess I sell there -- anyway, there was this little cafe on a corner that we went to in the middle of the afternoon. They actually served gelato in a half a conch shell." He fishes out another dip. Grins. "Just when I think I'm getting too provincial."