“By late November I see signs of brooding. Perhaps I’ve neglected her. Things begin to break. The pool pump. The dishwasher. Then the stovetop in the kitchen keeps threatening to explode. My first friend on our new frontier was a laid-back character named Max. His family ran a nursery in Bubbio, but he didn’t believe in the hard sell. I had a fetish for flowers so I appreciated this. A guy so relaxed his favorite expression was tranqui, tranqui—I doubt he ever had trouble falling asleep. But when I turned on the stove he jumped higher than I did. The gas rings lifted in unison. I called the local company and the guy arrived, aptly named Guido. He validated my idea of a gas leak by taking me around to the back of the house and placing a lit Bic lighter beneath the gas valve. Then the broiler became fussy. Guido arrived a couple of times to service it with a cigarette attached to his lower lip the entire time. I kept walking outside, crossing my fingers, muttering.”

Excerpt From Personal Legends of Piemonte Bailey Alexander