Under The Tuscan Sun Page #8

They built it because they knew

someday the train would come.

I think your snake has gone

for the evening.

Yes.

I think you're right.

Signora.

Please stop being so sad.

If you continue like this,

I will be forced

to make love to you.

And I've never been unfaithful

to my wife.

Buonanotte, signora.

Yes.

Buonanotte, Signor Martini.

Grazie.

Prego.

A train track through the Alps

before there was a train.

Signor Martini wants me

to have faith.

Something I've never been good

at, and now I'm even worse at.

Not that I don't want faith.

I'm jealous of the believers.

But as a fallen-away Methodist,

I do not expect to emerge

from all of this a Catholic,

although I admit some

interior juggling is going on.

To my surprise, I have become

friendly with Mary.

It started the night she stood

by me through the storm,

knowing full well

I'm not a Catholic.

Yet, somehow, she seems more

like Mary, my favorite aunt,

than Santa Maria.

Aunt Mary is everywhere here,

her calm presence assuring us

that all things will go on

as they have before.

Buon Natale.

Buon Natale.

This is my wife, Flora.

Oh!

And my daughter, Stella.

Stella, buon Natale.

Bellissima.

What a beautiful family.

Wow.

I thought I might see you,

so I have a gift for you.

It is San Lorenzo.

He is the patron saint of cooks.

Apparently, he was martyred on a

grill and seared until he said,

"Turn me over.

I'm done on this side."

No!

Yes. And now he is

the favorite saint of chefs.

Oh!

I think if you prayed to him,

he will help you find

someone to cook for.

Thank you, Signor Martini.

Merry Christmas, Signora.

Buon Natale.

My prayers to San Lorenzo

were quickly answered.

I realized I already

had someone to cook for.

Plenty of someones.

- Bravo!

- Ahh!

- Bravo!

- Bravo!

Bravo!

Aah!

Aah!

- Good.

- See, Frances? Italian is easy.

No!

Aah! Aah! Aah!

Have you talked to her yet?

Si.

I have talked to her.

Why don't you go

sit next to her? Go on.

Okay.

Katherine!

Francesca!

Come up!

I'm having my portrait painted.

Katherine?

Come through.

I'm in here.

Oh.

- I'll come back another time.

- Why? You don't bother me.

Frances, this is Zeus.

He's an art student

from Macedonia.

He's staying with me while

he's studying the Tuscan light.

More vino, darling.

Hmm.

He's not bad.

He's not good, either.

Look, I'm going to go,

but I'll come back another time.

Oh, you're so boring!

What?

I said you're boring.

Look at you!

You're sad.

Again!

You're like a big black hole.

Excuse me, but I...

Fefe always said,

"Regrets are a waste of time.

They're the past crippling you

in the present."

I just walked in the door.

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