"Rising from the mist in the sun-blushed hills of Tuscany is El Piciola Rustico, a 300-year-old stone farmhouse that Nancy Doran dreams of lovingly restoring into an idyllic home. All her husband Phil can see is a crumbling money pit that, as far as dreams go, is more of a nightmare." "Reluctantly leaving behind high-octane, air-conditioned Los Angeles where he lives and works as a writer-producer, Phil is uprooted to a strange country intoxicated by O sole mio, virgin olive oil and oak-aged Chianti. The local village reveals itself to be a hive of seething passions, secrets and age-old blood feuds, and the newcomers find that life is not all strolls around town during the passagiaio and relaxing under the awnings of picturesque cafes." "Beset by a raft of exasperating challenges - from the cunning tricks of the Pingatore family to an infuriating Byzantine Italian bureacracy - it is only with an inspired touch of the 'Inner Italian' that Phil and Nancy finally manage to soften the hearts of their neighbours and are embraced by the community."--BOOK JACKET.… (more)
The events in this story are true. I have, however, taken the liberty of changing the names of some of the places and all of the people to ensure their privacy. If this kind of thing bothers you, I urge you to keep reading and when you are finished, please allow me one question:
Did you have a good time, honey?
Somewhere in Tuscany APRIL 2005
To Betty, who gave me the greatest gift of all
I had a machete in my hand and I was thinking about using it on Henry David Thoreau.
I stared at these two little boats bobbing in the gray-green water for a long moment as I wondered how I was going to tell Nancy about this.