Excerpt
The whole room gleamed with gold, dimming now, people hushing, the orchestra starting. Something moved over my finger and I jumped-Claudia's hand, reaching over just to touch.
She didn't turn her head and I saw that her eyes were shiny, her whole attention given over to the music. Now I heard it too. Rodolfo's love song, so beautiful that it seemed no one could have written it, just found it, floating somewhere above the ordinary world. If this was possible, anything was. I looked down at her hand. We could be happy. Why shouldn't it work? Gianni was gone and we had an alibi. The Germans had gotten away with murder, the whole world. Even in Venice, as beautiful as the music, everyone had an alibi, somewhere else when the air raid sirens covered the sounds of people being dragged off. I didn't know. I didn't realize. I had my own life to consider. And, of course, everyone did.