Years ago, I worked in a garden center. One of the employees was very knowledgeable about annuals — middle-aged, pleasant, but not a mixer. He dealt with some of our more demanding customers with a smile and polite, if chilly, friendliness.

A coworker noticed this and smiled ruefully. “If only they knew he could buy and sell them.”

Turns out he was the son of a European count; educated in boarding schools in Switzerland, summers in Biarritz, long weekends in Monaco, etc. In the end, he just really loved plants. He subscribed to the notion of American egalitarianism and understood that aristocracy had no place here.

But some of our truly wealthy customers, from old money, recognized him and appreciated his willingness to help them make their flower gardens bloom all season long.