The Reluctant Tuscan Read Online Free PDF Page A

English?”
    â€œAmericani,” Nancy said.
    â€œI knew you were stranieri , but I figure you for English. They only rent.”
    â€œWe already bought.” Nancy pointed up the hill.
    â€œOh, you the lady with the road.” Dino stared at her like she was Ma Barker.
    â€œCan we look inside?” Luna continued to sniff my leg, undisturbed that Torpedo had just mounted her.
    â€œYeah, yeah, no problem, is open.” Dino took some scraps of raw meat out of his pocket and tossed them on the ground. The dogs suddenly stopped their various activities and began fighting over it like, well, a pack of dogs.
    â€œOnly, I better call my cousin Spartaco to make sure he don’t need it no more.” Dino pulled out his cell phone. The phone slipped out of his hand and clattered to the ground, only to be snatched up by Ninja, who ran off with it in his mouth. Dino set off in pursuit, hollering at the errant hound, but by now the dog was across the yard, digging a hole to bury his newfound treasure.
    As this classic struggle between man and beast played out, Nancy and I wandered inside. The living room was as dark as a catacomb, owing to the Italian practice of keeping all the shutters tightly closed even on the sunniest of days. We found a lamp and turned it on. The bulb was as dim as a votive candle, and the darkness of the room easily swallowed up its feeble glow. I opened one of the shutters, and a slab of white sunlight illuminated an arrangement of dark, funereal furniture and a candelabra the Addams family would have loved.
    Our eyes skittered around the room, finally resting on walls completely covered with pinups of naked women, alternating with images of Jesus Christ.
    â€œCousin Spartaco seems to be a rather conflicted chap,” I commented as we split apart and proceeded to explore.
    After a few moments Nancy called out, “What do you think?”
    â€œWell, the kitchen’s a muck hole, the bedroom reeks from mildew, and the bathroom—”
    â€œDid you look back here? There’s a pizza oven and a swimming pool!”
    â€œWe’ll take it,” I said to Dino as he walked in, wiping dog spittle off his cell phone.
    â€œYou will love this house!” Dino said with an expansive wave. “I was born here, you know. Mamma gave birth to me right here on this kitchen table.”
    â€œHow appetizing,” I said.
    Dino suddenly made a face and hastened to the window, where he closed the shutter I had just opened. “Have to keep these always shut. Sunlight fades the furniture.”
    â€œWell, we can’t have that,” I said, feeling for the couch.
    Nancy entered, blowing into her cupped hands. “Kinda nippy in here, isn’t it?”
    â€œNot to worry, I put in this brand-a-new heating system. German, works perfect!”
    Dino pointed to a control panel on the wall. With its imposing bank of lighted buttons, it would have looked more at home on the space shuttle than in a humble pink cottage in Tuscany.
    â€œHow do we turn it on?” Nancy asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Dino said. “But my son can work it.”
    â€œLet’s see if we can’t figure it out.” I cocked my head to the side to study the array of lighted buttons.
    â€œHoney,” Nancy said, as if she had caught me running with surgical scissors.
    â€œGimme a minute here.” I started pushing a series of buttons, at first methodically, and then at random. Lights on the control panel blinked and there was a faint electronic hum, but otherwise nothing happened. In fact, no combination of buttons, dials, or gauges, no matter how I pushed, twisted, or turned them, did anything even remotely connected with the manufacture or delivery of heat. But feeling I was on the right track, I kept pushing buttons now two and three at a time, until we heard a faint fizzle from down the basement and the one lamp that was burning went