A sad and lonely Miss Fisher is sitting pondering the loss of a deepening relationship with Jack and listening to the same music he had been. A knock on the door and there he is. ‘Not eating Italian tonight, Jack?’ she asks in her huskiest voice. ‘Strano’s is closed,’ he says, a smile touching his lips. ‘Looks like you’ll have to make do with me,’ she answers with a matching smile. ‘Looks like we’ll have to make do with each other,’ he replies seriously. Then he grins, and does his patented head tilt, while raising a bottle of good wine. She smiles broader and broader.
