Toni

Toni speaks English better than me.

Anna lives in a small cabin. Toni, on the other hand, lives in a large house.

The petite woman with flowing black hair and high-heeled sandals stands on a church’s steps, looking more Italian than Sophia Loren. She hands out an Italian breakfast staple — cornetti — pastries filled with custard — to a half-dozen Americans. As they nibble, Mazzaglia, Toni for short, introduces herself.

Lust and love are the only things that interest Toni.

Toni didn't know our names.

Toni has a lot of fun confusing people.

"I'm not Toni any more. I'm Antonia." Sophy burst out laughing. "And I'm Sophia."