The corridor releases you into open air that still feels held, a covered dining loggia where limestone columns carry a cedar-beamed ceiling and the breeze off the river replaces climate control. Where the trophy hallway demanded reverence, this space invites lingering — a ten-seat stone table anchored beneath wrought-iron pendants, oriented so every chair faces the canopy of hardwoods that screens Rose Island Road from sight. It is the room that earns the weekend-estate label, scaled for the Saturday lunch that never finds a reason to end, for the Sunday where no one checks the time. And the grounds it frames are not merely landscaped but composed, drawing the eye toward a depth of property that the next turn begins to reveal.