Music, it seemed, became the backdrop of our neighborhood. At any given time, Mozart or Ravel could be heard wafting over the backyard fences.When my ...ife was at home dying of cancer, she always wanted her window opened just a crack just so she could hear the melodies (no matter how badly they were sometimes performed.)She died in April at the age of twenty-nine. Camelia brought a pan of chicken spaghetti over after the funeral. She sat on the sofa and cried - partly for my loss and partly for. I am guessing in her mid fifties, I decided her husband is a lucky man to be banging that every night. Next morning I had my first interview, and the owner of the company showed up. I felt the interview went well and headed back to my hotel. I ran into the woman I had met the night before, her name was Alice. She had a bottle of wine and asked if I would join her in her room. I said yes. Once in her room we started drinking. Alice told me about her husband and how he works all the time and pays. More

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