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Chapters (54)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PROLOGUE: VENICE, 1940
  6. CHAPTER 1
  7. CHAPTER 2
  8. CHAPTER 3
  9. CHAPTER 4
  10. CHAPTER 5
  11. CHAPTER 6
  12. CHAPTER 7
  13. CHAPTER 8
  14. CHAPTER 9
  15. CHAPTER 10
  16. CHAPTER 11
  17. CHAPTER 12
  18. CHAPTER 13
  19. CHAPTER 14
  20. CHAPTER 15
  21. CHAPTER 16
  22. CHAPTER 17
  23. CHAPTER 18
  24. CHAPTER 19
  25. CHAPTER 20
  26. CHAPTER 21
  27. CHAPTER 22
  28. CHAPTER 23
  29. CHAPTER 24
  30. CHAPTER 25
  31. CHAPTER 26
  32. CHAPTER 27
  33. CHAPTER 28
  34. CHAPTER 29
  35. CHAPTER 30
  36. CHAPTER 31
  37. CHAPTER 32
  38. CHAPTER 33
  39. CHAPTER 34
  40. CHAPTER 35
  41. CHAPTER 36
  42. CHAPTER 37
  43. CHAPTER 38
  44. CHAPTER 39
  45. CHAPTER 40
  46. CHAPTER 41
  47. CHAPTER 42
  48. CHAPTER 43
  49. CHAPTER 44
  50. CHAPTER 45
  51. CHAPTER 46
  52. CHAPTER 47
  53. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  54. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“I’ll ask them,” I agreed. “At least I’ll come to watch the rowing. And then later for the fireworks. I love fireworks.”

“Me too. I’ll row extra hard, knowing you are watching me.” He blew me a kiss and hurried off, leaving me hot, bothered and confused again. I so enjoyed talking to him. We talked so easily, as if we had never been apart. We laughed together. And yet it was wrong. Why oh why did I think it would be a good idea to come back to this place?

Fleuron Image

The next day I came home to be greeted by my landlady with a suspicious look on her face.

“Somebody left flowers for you,” she said, indicating a bouquet wrapped in paper, tied with a white ribbon, lying on the hall table.

“Really? How nice!” I couldn’t think who that would be. “Did they leave a note?”

“I believe there is one with it,” she said, and I got the impression that she might have opened and read it.

I went over and picked up the bouquet. The sweet smell of red roses, mixed with other scents, came up to me. She was right. A little note was tucked in between the flowers. I opened it.

You see. It was easy to find out where you live. Everybody knows everybody in this town. I just had to ask for the woman from Turin!

It wasn’t signed, for which I was grateful. I gave my landlady a little smile. “Do you have a vase? We can put them on the kitchen table and both enjoy them.”

“You know who they are from? An admirer?”

“Just a friend.”

She nodded. “Someone said they saw the Da Rossi boy in this street.” She said it casually. From the way my face flushed, she confirmed her suspicion. “Not a good idea. You don’t want to get involved with that family. And I’ve been hearing things about his wife, too. Her father has Mafiosi ties, so one understands. He wouldn’t take kindly to anyone . . .”

She left the rest of the sentence hanging. Anyone who crossed his daughter. I understood.

“Just a friend from my childhood,” I said. “Nothing more.”

“Keep it that way.”

“Don’t worry. I intend to, signora,” I said. I took the flowers through to the kitchen.

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 22

Caroline, Venice, October 11, 2001