“It’s so funny because we think of tomatoes as an Italian food now.”

“Oh,” he chuckled a little.  “The food I ate as a child is very different from what is common in Italy now.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Things were cooked more heavily.  Lots of stews.  I like modern food more.  There are more ingredients and spices, and things to choose from.”

“Yeah,” she smiled sweetly.  “I guess we’re pretty lucky.”

“Very lucky, Beatrice.”

She sipped her champagne.  “This is really good, by the way.  What kind of champagne is it?”

He twisted the bottle so she could see the label.  “This is Dom Pérignon.”

She snorted a little, catching the wine that wanted to escape her mouth before she carefully swallowed.  “Isn’t that, like, super expensive?”

“This one was quite reasonable.  I got it from the cellar.  One of Caspar’s, a 1985 vintage.  I think he acquired it for around four hundred or so.”

“A bottle?” she squeaked.

He shrugged.  “Drink up.  I have plenty of money.  I might as well spend it on people and things I enjoy.”

She was still eyeing the bubbling glass with trepidation.  He rolled his eyes.

“Beatrice, just drink the champagne.  I’ll never be able to finish all of it myself, and it’s your graduation.”

Smiling a little, she took a tentative sip.

“Still good?”

She nodded and took another bite of her cake.

“Did you always have a lot?” she asked.

“Of money?  Except for a brief period of my life, yes.  I’ve had a very long time to acquire it, as you can imagine.  I have extensive investments and property, as well as what money I make working for clients, which isn’t insignificant.”

“Investments?  Cool.  I know all about the stock market.  My grandfather and I always used to play with it.”

He laughed.  “Really?  That’s a rather unusual past time.  No fishing?  Dollhouses?”

“No,” she laughed along with him.  “I think he did it instead of gambling, to be honest.  If it wasn’t the stock market, it would have been the race track.  I got to be better at it than him, though.”

“Were you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m pretty good.  Ask my grandma.  I invest all her money for her.”

“And do you have money of your own invested?”

She nodded.  “That’s why I don’t have any student loans.  My grandpa and I invested all the money from my father’s estate.  There wasn’t much, but it was years ago, and once online trading became more common, it was easy to play around with it.  Online markets are great, and I pay a lot less in broker fees now.”

He smiled in delight.  “I should probably let you take a look at my financial portfolio.”

“You should,” she muttered as she took another bite of cake.  “I could probably shift some of your stuff around and have you making double what you are now.  Unless you’ve got a really good broker.  Are you diversified into foreign markets or currencies?”

“I…don’t know.”  He honestly had very little idea where most of his money was, other than the cache of gold he kept with him.

“You really need to be taking advantage of all the online trading there is now.  I could show Caspar how to do it.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Cool.”  She smiled a little and took another drink of champagne.  “It’s pretty fun.”

“And you do all of it on the computer now?”

“Yep.”

He cocked his head and watched her, intrigued by the facets of her mind.  “How did you learn so much about computers?”

Her smile fell, and she shrugged.  “Antisocial teenager.  I got one for my room, and my grandparents…well, they knew I liked being by myself, so they just left me to it.”  She cleared her throat and looked down at the table.  “It was the place I felt most comfortable.  On my computer.  Or in my books.”

“I’m sure your grandparents were happy you had it,” he said, suddenly wishing he could ease the memory of the lonely child he saw behind her eyes.

“Good thing for you I did, right?  You needed a computer whiz on staff.”

“I most certainly did,” he said with a smile and a nod.

They were quiet for a few minutes as Beatrice finished her cake.  Giovanni poured another glass of champagne for them both.

“Gio?”

“Yes?”

“Why does Lorenzo want my father?”

He frowned, wishing she hadn’t brought the topic up.  “I’m sure he wants him back purely because he got away, to begin with.  And I suspect he took something.  Possibly something from the collection.”

“Why would he do that?”

It was an excellent question; one Giovanni has asked himself many times.

“I don’t know.”

“And why would Lorenzo have killed him?”

The memory ambushed him; he could almost hear his father’s voice.

“What do you hold in your hands?”

“A book.”

“No, you hold knowledge…and knowledge is power.  Do you understand?”