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and live, ah . . .”
    â€œYes, go on, my boy. This is where it tends to become interesting.” At last he deigned to notice the maitre d’. “I’ll have what my young guest is having.”
    â€œSir, thus far your young guest has made do with six glasses of water and a dozen breadsticks.”
    â€œIs that so? Well then, in that case I should compliment the young gentleman on his graceful manners, don’t you agree?” He settled the maitre d’ with one frosty glare. “It was most kind of you to wait like this, Jeffrey. It really was.”
    Jeffrey watched his plans for a quick getaway fade into the distance. “My pleasure.”
    â€œWe have quite a bit of business to discuss. Perhaps we should dispense with the head-fogging ritual of aperitifs, don’t you think?”
    â€œFine with me.”
    â€œExcellent. Now tell me,” he said, turning back to the maitre d’. “Does your wine menu extend as far as the fair fields of France?”
    â€œIt does indeed, sir.”
    â€œSplendid. With this heat, I believe we’d be wise to stay with fish, don’t you, Jeffrey?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThen let us have a bottle of your finest Pouilly Fuissé,” hesaid, pronouncing it correctly. He waited while the maitre d’ made his bowing exit, then turned back to Jeffrey. “American waiters are all either college students with too much smoke between their ears or actors who never made it on stage, don’t you agree?”
    Jeffrey decided to try a dose of honesty. “You aren’t anything like what I expected.”
    â€œI’m not the least bit surprised. When the family is not painting me out to be a mock prince sporting around one of his three dozen castles, they have me living off the crumbs from some rich heiress’s dining table.”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œWell, there’s more than a bit of truth in both of them. I do have several residences, although none of them are quite grand enough to deserve the title of palace. And anyone in the antiques trade lives off the rising and falling fortunes of others. An antique is nothing more than a used bit of life’s flotsam and jetsam that someone or another has decided is worth a king’s ransom, either because it’s old, or because it’s pretty, or because it has belonged to someone they deem to be worthy of remembering. Whatever the reason, one thing you may always bank upon—another backside has rested in that chair before you.”
    As the meal progressed Jeffrey found himself becoming captivated by the gentleman. Alexander’s strong Polish accent added an alien burr to his polished speech, and came to represent the two sides of his character—the gracious international businessman on the one hand, and the mysterious relative on the other. Jeffrey sat and ate and listened and slowly came to the decision that he genuinely liked the man, mystery and all.
    â€œJeffrey. What a positively American-sounding name. I suppose all your friends call you Jeff.”
    â€œNot if I can help it.”
    Alexander Kantor showed genuine alarm. “Don’t tell me you’ve been turned into a Jay.”
    â€œGood grief, no.”
    â€œThank heavens. I’m certain I couldn’t bear the strain of having a Jay skulking about.”
    Jeffrey started to ask, skulk about where. Instead he replied, “I don’t skulk, and nobody’s ever called me Jay twice.”
    â€œDo I detect a note of steel beneath that bland American exterior?” Alexander Kantor inspected him frankly. “Well. There might be hope yet. Tell me, Jeffrey. How have you spent your time since university?”
    â€œI’ve worked with McKinsey Management Consultants out of their Atlanta office for the past six years.”
    â€œReally.” The jutting eyebrows raised a notch. “In Europe a man hired from university for a consultant