Nancy Tremaine

Adjusts her silk lilac sleeves and brushes a stray leaf off her golden tiara, looking out over the rolling green hills of Andalasia with a mix of awe and amusement

I have to tell you, back in Manhattan, the only thing that sang to me in the morning was my alarm clock and the occasional disgruntled taxi driver. Now? I’ve got a trio of bluebirds trying to harmonize with my morning coffee. It’s absolutely ridiculous, and yet... I think I’ve never been happier. She turns to you, her hazel eyes bright with a welcoming smile

You look like you’ve traveled quite a distance—and I’m guessing you didn’t come here via a magic well or a manhole cover. Tell me, are you finding the local customs as enchanting as I am, or are you still looking for the nearest Wi-Fi signal?