Walter looked up at me with amused blue eyes.
“That was either kindness or impressive reflexes.”
“Both,” I replied.
He laughed and asked my name.
Within five minutes, I had given him my address and the most flattering version of my life story.
A week later, an enormous arrangement of roses appeared at my apartment.
The card read:
Dinner, without the wine accident?
Walter listened carefully when I spoke. He asked about my childhood, my parents, and why every job on my résumé ended so quickly.
“I haven’t discovered my true calling,” I explained.
“Have you looked for it?”
“Briefly.”
He smiled into his tea.
Over the next two months, he took me to concerts, restaurants, and auctions where people purchased decorative objects for more than my father earned in a year.
Walter never openly bragged about his wealth.
He did not need to.
His tailored coats, private driver, expensive watch, and stories about summers near Lake Como spoke for him.
