With that he sat on one of the exposed beams and watched as Domenico went back to work, carefully prying up the tiles that needed to be replaced. All the while, Domenico talked away a mile a minute, speaking so fast that Carter could barely understand a word. From his gestures, however, Carter inferred that Domenico was explaining to him how the roof was made and how he needed to go about repairing it. It was no small job. Even with his inexpert eye, Carter could plainly see from the condition of the roof that Domenico had a great deal of work ahead of him.

Carter had never been one of those people who could watch someone else toil away while he sat around taking it easy. And so, after a few minutes, he surprised Domenico by asking if there was a spare crowbar. Domenico nodded to his toolbox, and a few moments later Carter was hard at work by his side, ripping tiles up with such gusto that a laughing Domenico had to tell him to slow down. Carter relented only a little, for he found the work rather therapeutic. It helped him vent some of the lingering ill feelings from his visit to Roccasale, and was in many ways the most fun he’d had since he came to Italy.

The fun came to an end, however, when one of the neighbors spotted Carter and called Antonella to inform her that her young American houseguest was up on the roof, risking life and limb.

“Mannaggia!” Antonella had cried when she rushed to the scene and saw Carter on the roof. “Ma tu sei pazzo! You’re crazy! Get down from there, subito! What am I going to tell your poor mother if you fall down and kill yourself?”

Antonella’s impassioned pleas, which were met with a mere smile and wave, did little to dissuade Carter from continuing to assist Domenico. When these failed, she turned to the ever-reliable standby of food to lure him down from the roof. At the mention of lunch, Domenico agreed that perhaps it was time to take a break—and that was that for roofing for the rest of the day. When Carter came down the ladder and brushed himself off, he stood there smirking for a moment, before Antonella grabbed him by the ear like a wayward child and dragged him yelping back to the house.

Lunch turned out to be a simple meal of sliced tomatoes drenched in olive oil and served over bread like an open sandwich. After the previous day’s feast, it was more than substantial enough for Carter, who ate his fill before obeying Antonella’s order to go to his room and rest from the morning’s exertions.