I leaned over and peeked through the kitchen door. That's all we need to understand each other." Her voice was low and soft but otherwise nondescript. "Excuse me? To whom did you wish to speak?" I'm good at recognizing people's voices, but this was not one I knew. "Ten minutes, please," said a woman on the other end.
I lowered the flame, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver. It could have been somebody with news of a I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done, but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the London Symphony to its musical climax.
When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's The Thieving Magpie, which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.
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