SEVENTEEN
“Tell me again why we’re here?” Alfredo Landucci got off the barge just a few paces behind Teodoro Gradenigo, jumping nimbly off the end of the ramp, avoiding a small puddle left behind by the morning’s shower. The warm spring sun peeked through the breaking clouds, rays of light streamed down from holes in the fluffy, gray ceiling, and glistening water droplets coated the land like embedded jewels. The small island of Murano lay clean, scoured by nature’s brush, refreshed and sweet-smelling.
“To get my mother a birthday present.” Teodoro stood in the muddy campo and waited for his friend to catch up. “A glass swan, if I can find one.”
Alfredo shook his head and his abundant blond curls danced around his smooth, comely features. “You couldn’t find one in La Mercerie?”
Teodoro
