La Dolce Villa

Thank you.

Montezara...

Five. Track five.

Can I help? Can I help you with the baby up the stairs?

What?

- I'll take the bottom. - Sì. Grazie.

It's okay. All right. Hi! Oh my goodness, look at you!

Good, you made it in one piece.

No. Not yet.

I can barely find this town on the map.

Well hey, you took your first vacation day in years.

Trust me, no trip to Italy can be considered a vacation.

- Okay, not again with "the curse." - Hey.

The curse is real. I came after college. I lost my passport.

I came back on my honeymoon. We both got the flu,

and it rained every day.

Frankly, I can't believe Liv's made it this long.

It's a good thing I saw on her Instagram

that she wants to buy this one-euro house.

- I thought she bought it already? - No, not if I can help it.

I'm here to find my daughter and bring her home.

You're Eric Field in Italy,

not Liam Neeson in Taken.

Yeah, that's fair.

Oh, hey, uh, I sent you a pitch presentation for Northstar.

Great. Then relax. Take in the scenery.

- All right, talk to you later. - Yeah, we'll talk soon.

I knew I should've made my Instagram private.

You know, the daughter I used to know would open with, "Hi, Dad."

Hi, Dad.

I'll take it. Hug for your old man?

Come on.

Thank you.

Why are you here? I thought Italy was the one place you'd never come.

Well, I'm making an exception for you,

my loving daughter, who took off in the dead of night.

- It's called a red-eye. - With barely a word.

- I sent you a very detailed WhatsApp. - What's up? What?

- You disappeared. - I'm on social media every day.

Then you somehow end up buying an Italian villa?

If you meant to activate the Dad bat signal...

- I didn't. - Well, you did. Big time.

You know what? Suit yourself, BatDad. I'm gonna drop you off at the hotel.

I'm meeting the mayor to go house shopping.

- House shopping? - Mm-hmm.

So it's not a done deal? Excellent. I'm not too late.

You think you're gonna stop me?

I need coffee for this.

Well, look, I assumed you'd get Italy out of your system. Eat some pizza.

See some ruins. Use your college Italian to charm some cute waiters.

- You assumed. Never asked. - How could I? I never hear from you.

- I was busy working. - Mm-hmm.

I tutored English in Milan. I nannied in Florence.

I spent some time harvesting olives.

A couple weeks ago, I was on the way to a wine festival gig.

I got on the wrong train by accident and ended up here.

And it was like... boom!

Like "boom" what? I'm missing a few steps from that story.

Mm. It's hard to explain. You have to feel it.

- Montezara's a feeling. - All I feel is jet lag.

Can we fast-forward to the whole "bought a villa" nonsense?

It's a real thing.

Small towns are selling old houses for one euro to bring new people in.

The mayor was telling me all about the whole scheme.

Well, at least you admit it's a scheme.

So I put in an application, got accepted, and I'm a Montezaran now.

- But I assumed... - There's that word again.

You would be coming back to Ohio.

You'd get roommates, a paycheck, dental insurance.

You know, adulting.

Isn't owning a house the very definition of adulting?

Honey, I had to come open up the cafe.

I understand but sometimes I think you love this café more than me.

- I love you both equally. - Equally, Cesare!? Are you serious?

- No, actually... - Really?

- Not equally... - I can't take this!

- Oh! - These friends of yours?

Cesare and Donata. They break up almost every day like clockwork.

- Ciao, Olivia. - Ciao.

- Hi, Cesare. - Hey.

Two coffees, please.

- Thanks. - Nico, two coffees for Olivia.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

Maybe today this beauty will finally join me for a coffee.

Charm doesn't work on me, Giovanni.

I've never struck out so bad before.

Eh!

It's good to have new experiences.

Ooh!

- I'll pay for the coffees. - Oh, thank you.

But, you know, homeownership's a little more expensive than coffee.

I was thinking of using the fund Mom set aside for me.

Well, that's all tied up in investments.

You'd have to sell, then you'd owe taxes. There's another adulting word.

You know, you're not really selling me on the whole adulting thing.

Well, last I checked, you were an adult, Liv.

Hey, come on, you ju...

Kids, huh?

They sure know how to drive you insane.

You try to give them space. Let them find their own way.

Be the cool dad. But that also means being not cool about bad ideas.

Not like she ever asks my opinion,

which is how she got duped into this one-euro house scam in the first place...

- Oh, great! You two have met. - What?

Dad, this is Francesca Pucci. Mayor of Montezara.

Welcome to Italy, Mr. Field.

Ah, shoot.

- BatDad, what'd you do now? - I sense he wants to back out.

- Yes, exactly. We're backing out. - No, we are not backing out.

We've already started the paperwork and have accepted her 5,000 euro deposit.

5,000 euros? I thought the house was one euro.

Deposits are standard procedure for Italian villa programs.

To ensure the work'll be finished.

I put it on my card. The town'll refund me once the work's done.

- So this really is a racket. - Dad, I'm looking at houses today.

All right?

A moment alone, please.

Why are you so set on this?

When Mom was in the hospital, we'd look up one-euro villas online...

...all the befores and afters,

and talk about what we'd do differently.

We were gonna apply when she got better.

Yeah, I thought that was just a... daydream to get through a tough time.

It was just a daydream to get through a tough time,

which is why I wanna make it a reality.

Mom was always very proud to be part Italian,

and being in Italy makes me feel closer to her.

Why didn't you tell me this before?

Right, because I don't listen.

All right.

Francesca?

Okay! Let's go see what a buck buys around here.

House

number one.

Wait.

Yes!

Ah!

The one-euro price tag makes sense now.

For one euro, you expect the Sistine Chapel?

So it... it just needs a little TLC.

Uh-huh.

Oh! I think we can move on.

Right this way.

House number two.

Oh! Well, it's light and airy.

No, for a euro, I don't expect the Sistine Chapel.

But I do expect a ceiling.

Huh, comes with roommates.

I think we can move on. Quick.

Seriously?

Nino is a genius at renovations.

Nino, Francesca's brother-in-law is my contractor.

Ah!

So this is a family racket.

Uh, excuse me. Just a moment.

Liv, even with a genius contractor, you realize that DIY means do-it-yourself?

Mm-hmm. I'll learn on the job.

It's so different than nannying or working at a renaissance fair.

I get the dream.

But sometimes reality, it can be a tough wake-up call.

Matteo, can you hear me?

Yes, Francesca, yes, hello...

I'm here with a man from the road maintenance company.

Montezara's check bounced again.

Just grab the emergency credit card, in the bottom drawer of the desk.

It's stuck.

Give it a kick!

Nope, not even now...

Harder! Understand?

Harder... yes.

Here we go... yes!

Thank you, Francesca.

Good. Good, good.

Write off the 5,000 euros as an expensive life lesson,

and let's go home.

I have another house to show you.

It's not on the official one-euro list, but, Olivia, I think you will like it.

Let's go, girl.

Like it? I love it. Wow!

It's beautiful. I mean, look at the olive trees.

- Why is this one not a total wreck? - The owner died just last year.

An eccentric old man we used to call Mario il Burbero. "Mario the Grumpy."

Oh, Maltese!

Here you are, you silly goat.

It used to be Mario's pet. Now the town takes turns feeding her.

I'll throw her in with the one euro.

Can I pay a euro to take her away?

Oh, it's big.

Yeah.

Awesome ceilings.

The house was built by a noted local architect, Greco.

Come.

There are bedrooms.

There is electricity, plumbing.

Both are a bit old, but they work.

And there is even a fresco.

Grumpy Mario painted it himself.

- Huh! It's actually kind of beautiful. - Mm.

Sweet.

A legit Italian room with a view.