Will got out, but Harper didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door. Not that she minded men holding doors for her, but it seemed odd to sit there waiting for it. Seeing that she’d taken care of herself, he retrieved something from the backseat, then offered her his arm like a gentleman as they crossed the gravel lot.
Had he learned his manners from his mother? Or maybe he’d modeled them after his father? Yet again, she found herself wanting to know the answers despite herself.
“Mama Cannelli makes a duck ravioli to die for.” He kissed his fingers in a very Italian gesture.
A young hostess greeted them as they entered. She was obviously of Italian descent, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and a full hourglass figure. “Mr. Franconi, Mama will be so happy to see you. We’ve held your special table.”
“Thank you, Katerina.” Harper shouldn’t have cared that he didn’t react to the other woman’s beauty. But she couldn’t help but be pleased that he only seemed to have eyes for her tonight. “Please tell Mama Cannelli I have a surprise for her.” Will held up the tin he’d taken from the backseat.
The house hadn’t been gutted to make a large dining room. Instead, tables with red-checked cloths had been set up in each of the rooms, the formal dining room to the left and the front parlor to the right. A big picture mirror over the fireplace reflected the patrons. Candles in glass jars and small pots of flowers gave the room a homey touch. Harper wasn’t overdressed nor was Will underdressed.
It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. No show, no flash. No private jets or hot air balloons.
And she loved it.
She also loved the tang of tomato sauce, garlic, and spices that trailed behind them as Katerina led the way upstairs and along the landing. Will’s special table was by the window overlooking a back garden awash in azaleas and hydrangeas.
Katerina laid down the menus as Will pulled out Harper’s chair. “Your usual drink, Mr. Franconi?”
“Please.”
“And for the lady?”
“A Riesling would be lovely if you have it.”
The girl left, and Will set the tin on the table as he sat. Harper could see only the back label, the print too small to read.
“This place looks fabulous.” Harper expected that they’d be fawned over, the center of attention. But Will was treated just like any other diner in the room.
“Great food. Good price.” Will unrolled his utensils from the napkin. “I’m a big believer in value.”
“Is that what you do? In your business, I mean. Give people value?”
“I give them what they want. I pay attention to current fads, but I’ve always had an eye for the good stuff. Something exclusive and expensive. The value is in how badly people want something unique. And that’s all in the perception.”
Glad that he didn’t seem to mind talking about his business, at the very least, she asked, “Like what?”
“Some people will pay anything to be able to say something is one of a kind, so that they’ve got bragging rights. They don’t want to walk into a store and buy it or get it on the Internet. It’s designer couture. Like an award-winning Japanese single malt whiskey of which only fifty bottles were produced. Or a Turkish rug that took two years to weave. My customer is happy to pay for that one-of-a-kind perceived value, and then I pass it on to the artisan and make my profit at the same time.” He spread his hands. “Everyone’s happy.”
It couldn’t be standard business practice to share the wealth with the people who did the actual labor, but she already knew from her time in his garage with Jeremy that Will wasn’t typical. Not when most rich men would have tossed Jeremy’s letter in the trash—or treated him like there was something wrong with him.
Still, she didn’t entirely understand. “What kind of people would pay so much?”
“The kind of people who have more money than they can possibly spend.”
He’d compared luxury goods to designer couture, the fifty-thousand-dollar designer dresses celebrities wore to the Oscars. But the exorbitant amounts were beyond her.
Just like he was beyond her.
Harper had a perfectly good sense of self-worth, and yet she wasn’t going to lie to herself and say that everything about Will’s world didn’t make her head spin. She couldn’t imagine living a life like his.
“Do you regularly travel to Japan and Turkey?” She’d never been outside the U.S. She’d had dreams, of course, but after her parents died, it wasn’t a luxury she could afford. Not yet, anyway, though she was saving up. One day she and Jeremy would see all the places she’d read about curled up on the couch at night.