Passion Fruit

By Sandra Cuza

Happily married and living in Venice Beach, California, television executive Julia Elliott’s orderly life collapses when her husband is sent to Brazil for a two-year assignment by his company. Knowing that she will not be rehired once she leaves her job, she nevertheless agrees to follow him to the land of sunshine, tropical fruit and string bikinis.

But on arrival in São Paulo, Julia is shocked to discover that the city is marred by chaotic traffic, pollution, endemic graffiti and appalling slums. This is not the exotic paradise she envisioned.

As her husband works the long hours typical of American businessmen in São Paulo, their marital relationship frays; and remembering warnings about glamorous, seductive Brazilian women, Julia becomes concerned about her husband’s late nights and weekends at the office.

Is her husband having an affair with his gorgeous secretary? And how does Julia really feel about Max Calhoun, the married, off-beat minister that she’s met at an ex-pat theatrical group she joins?

Passion Fruit explores the personal and social lives of ex-pat wives following their husbands along the path of international business: the challenges are momentous, and the consequences of bad decisions are life-changing. Yet through it all another Julia emerges, and the ‘other Julia’ is indeed a pièce de résistance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Books
• Release date: Jun 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311525734

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Passion Fruit

Sandra Cuza

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Published by Open Books

Copyright © 2014 by Sandra Cuza

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover image Orange Dreams Copyright ©Olésea Volta Voloshin

Learn more about the artist at http://society6.com/volta

ONE—RIO DE JANEIRO

Pinned to the canvas deck chair by a merciless sun, Julia Elliott stared through a rippling heat-haze at the blue-green water, mesmerized by tiny, white crested waves lazily slapping the sand. Her eyelids were heavy and, with the sun burning through her hair, she could almost relax and imagine that she was back in Venice Beach with her daughters. Almost, but not quite. The knot of anxiety that had recently lodged in the pit of her stomach now denied her any degree of calm and peace.

Cocooned by cliffs hugging the cove on both sides, one of sheer rock stretching upward toward the cloudless sky and the other covered with dense forest, she watched sailboats and ships of all kinds and sizes appear and disappear on a bay dotted with islands jutting from the water like gigantic boulders. Overhead, cable cars dangled and swayed in the sultry breeze as they ascended to the famous Rio de Janeiro landmark, Sugar Loaf, or Pão de Açucar, as it was known in Brazil. A gentle gust of air lifted strands of her short, taffy-colored hair and cooled the perspiration soaking her light cotton blouse. She floated, out of body, out of mind, anxious and tense.

Suddenly, Mary Beth's voice shattered the oddly soothing hum of a helicopter, distant traffic and the slap of nearby water.

I'm totally cooked. Want to take a walk? She waved vaguely in the direction of the rocky precipice on the left where a broad, paved path, shaded by the overhanging cliff, had been cut into the stone. Gradually, it rose from the beach to curve out of sight high above the bay.

With an effort, Julia sat up, tipped the last of her caipirinha into her mouth and crunched the slivered ice to bits. Carefully placing her glass on top of the table, she turned her head toward Mary Beth and, with a grimace and slightly lifted eyebrows, nodded toward her husband Jack, and then toward Mary Beth's spouse. The latter was deeply engrossed in texting while Jack frowned at a laptop balanced on the table and mumbled into his cell phone. Mary Beth's forehead dropped to the table and, when she straightened a moment later, she was silently laughing, her shoulders shaking.

Both women stood and Julia turned to her husband. Want to come? She knew the answer and unconsciously braced herself against the sting of rejection.

Without pausing in his phone conversation, Jack shook his head, waggled one finger and scribbled something in a small notebook.

Of course not, she thought, looking at Mary Beth's husband. How about you, Jim?

He grinned, lifted his caipiriniha and shook the tumbler. I'll keep Jack company. Almost immediately, he returned to his cell phone.

Okay, we'll be back.

As they left the restaurant veranda, Julia tried, and failed, to recapture the excitement she had felt on arrival in Rio yesterday.

Aren't they a barrel of laughs? You can't take them anywhere, commented Mary Beth.

I did warn you about Jack's new devotion to work, Julia said. It goes way beyond responsibility.

Best friends since their years as college roommates, the two women began the gradual ascent and again Julia was mesmerized by the view. The higher they climbed, the more islands appeared in the bay, while the early afternoon sun was reflected in dazzling flashes on the dancing, green water. Suddenly, Mary Beth stopped and gestured toward two fishermen far below. Perched precariously on a craggy boulder surrounded by turbulent surf, the pair chatted and baited their hooks while ignoring the churning water at their feet and the occasionally drenching spray that shot overhead.

Look at that.

How did they get down there? Julia asked, her stomach oddly queasy as she peered down at the men.

I haven't the faintest idea. What I'd like to know is how do they keep from falling in?

Tearing her attention away from the fishermen, Julia waved one arm to encompass the sparkling bay and islands beyond. You know, before we came to Brazil, this is what I imagined it would be like. A dream, not a nightmare.

Mary Beth stepped back and leaned against the cliff, her arms folded as she shrewdly studied her friend. Small, with olive skin, brown eyes and mahogany hair, Mary Beth was often mistaken for a Brazilian. She had a natural talent for languages, greatly enhanced in this case by a junior year spent in Belo Horizonte, and now, after only ten days in Brazil, spoke Portuguese fairly well. Julia, still struggling to master the basics of the language after one year, tried hard to overcome her envy.

Rio isn't São Paulo, Julia. You live in the business and banking capitol of South America that's also the third largest city in the world. Rio has six million people and São Paulo has something like twenty-two. It makes a difference. A big one

Mary Beth pushed away from the cliff, dusted off the back of her shorts and the women slowly continued along the trail.

I know all that but... Julia paused to pluck a leaf from a cliffside shrub and absently tore it to shreds as the vague perception that something was not quite right once again caught the breath in her throat. It's a hard place to live, she explained uncertainly, gazing steadily at her friend. I don't seem to fit in. Firmly, she pressed her lips together, realizing too late that she sounded like one of whiney wives she detested.

Mary Beth glanced at her friend. Fit in with whom? What's the actual problem? she asked sharply.

That's a good question, isn't it? Julia thought. They were higher now, with trees as well as shrubs growing along the edge of the path, the foaming water far below. For a moment they both looked back at the cove, the line of restaurants fronting a small, clean beach dotted with tiny figures and a spreading oasis of dark green just beyond.

Julia frowned, wondering about the true answer to her friend's question. I really don't know. I had a successful career and terrific friends and gave them up. Remember, this was supposed to be a fantastic opportunity to live in an exotic country, but I feel completely off-balance. She paused, suddenly infused with exasperation. And Jack is certainly different. Look at him back there, making business calls on Sunday when we're on a four-day vacation.

Ah-ha, Mary Beth exclaimed, running one palm idly over the sheer rock on their left, now we're getting to it. Everybody told you that ex-pat men down here, especially in São Paulo, turn into workaholics.

Jack wasn't like this at home, Julia said defensively.

"Julia, come on. Think. One of the first things you found out was that Brazil is often a dead end for executives, not the stepladder to a posting in London or Paris or a promotion to the head of the company that they all hope it will be. You told me that yourself. Remember your stories about the two top execs who went back to flunky jobs in the States, and another one found no job at all when he got there. So of course Jack's working his butt off...he's scared silly."

The pair stared at one another.

"So stop obsessing about it and get a life."

Compressing her lips, Julia bit back a curt retort. Mary Beth had always cut right to the heart of any situation and could usually see a number of solutions. In this case, though, Julia herself couldn't grasp the real problem, the source of her apprehension, and certainly couldn't verbalize it, not even to Mary Beth, nor even to herself. What she did know was that it involved more than Jack's work habits.

Shrugging, she moved forward. You're right, I suppose.

Even though shaded by the heavy tangle of vines and trees, Julia found the heat oppressive. Sweat stinging her eyes and breathing heavily, the two women struggled along the path that now angled sharply upward. Suddenly, the women rounded a curve and found the path blocked by a large, permanent sign prohibiting any further travel without an official guide. To the left of the notice was a tiny, steep trail, muddy and overgrown, that disappeared into thick shrubbery.

Wow, commented Julia. "I wouldn't try that one with a guide."

Edging into a small clearing on their right, they had an unimpeded view of the bay and islands beyond. Julia pointed to a large, vermilion freighter moving slowly out to sea.

Look at that bright red ship.

I wonder who thought up the paint job.

Don't know, but I like it.

Silently they watched the ship as it disappeared behind an island.

Two husky young men in tee shirts and Bermuda shorts thundered up the path, squeezed past the sign and plunged ahead, using hanging roots and branches to pull themselves up the trail. One man vanished from sight but the other slipped backward in the mud, paused to reposition his feet and then hesitantly followed his companion.

Mary Beth raised her eyebrows and looked steadily at Julia.

See? There are nut cases in Rio even though it's a beautiful and clean city.

Maybe one of them was a guide.

They both laughed.

"Let's go find our husbands and have another caipirinha. Since our vacation's only two weeks long, I have to make the most of it." She grinned and moved downhill.

Julia fanned herself with cupped hands and turned for one last look at the bay, now a deep emerald shot with turquoise and sprinkled with whitecaps. Heat pressed the color from a milky blue sky and caused the thick vegetation on the distant islands and cove opposite to waver slightly as though moved by a breeze. Julia had forgotten how calming she had always found the sea, how a walk on Venice beach, her bare toes digging into the wet sand and spray from the breakers enveloping her in a fine mist, had smoothed her mind even in a storm. At night the surf's heavy rhythm had ushered in an unbroken sleep and, until moving to Brazil, she had always wondered if she could live away from the water. Well, she thought, turning to follow Mary Beth back down the path, São Paulo was inland and she had better get used to it—along with everything else that went with her new home.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a burst of crimson and stopped abruptly. Leaning forward, her blue eyes sparkling with silent laughter, Julia watched as the scarlet freighter flashed into view and then vanished again behind another island. Either the ship was a total misfit in the world of transportation or the belle of the ocean. Either way, it was amusing and also impossible to overlook in the world of deep greens, grays and blues through which it moved. As she turned to slip and slide downhill, Julia felt an odd sense of affinity with the strange little boat ploughing its way through the sea. Abruptly, the familiar clench of apprehension and anxiety slid over her like a shroud; the sailing vessel was forgotten as she puzzled over the true answer to Mary Beth's question.

TWO—VENICE BEACH, CALIFORNIA

Unaware that her orderly life was about to disintegrate, Julia pulled clippers from her gardening belt, turned to the rose bushes and frowned thoughtfully. Sterling Silver, one of her favorites, looked a little sick. Maybe she'd pruned it too severely, or perhaps it needed bone meal.

Later, Julia remembered this moment as the calm before the storm, even though actual downpours in Venice Beach were heralded, not by serenity, but by gusting winds, snapped and broken palm fronds that skittered over the pavement and a sinister, gunmetal-gray, out-of-control ocean. At that moment, however, nothing marred the near perfection of the day, and Julia's contentment was enhanced by the soothing scent of blooms from nearby mature plants as she lowered four new bare root roses into a bucket of water. Straightening, her eyes rested on the stained glass windows in the front of the house. Although the four panes were obscure and dark in the sunlight, she could nevertheless see the black outlines of three geese soaring over a field of long-leaved grasses into a brilliant sunset. To her, the birds symbolized freedom and a will to keep going even though the day was nearly over, and they never failed to lift her spirits.

Absently, she stripped off her worn gardening gloves and turned to watch her youngest daughter Sydney slice through the water in the lap pool. Contentedly, Julia reflected on her good luck She was the only person in her circle of friends that didn't have some kind of major health, financial or marriage problem; no wonder the others told her, with more than just a hint of envy, that she was moving smoothly through a charmed life.

The French doors from the master bedroom at the far end of the house opened and Jack Elliott emerged, briefcase in hand, tie still neatly knotted. Surprised, Julia stared, all thoughts of roses and geese instantly evaporating. Jack wouldn't dream of hanging out in the garden wearing his suit and tie: the first thing he did after work was change into a swimsuit and jump into the pool or jog to the beach for a plunge into the surf. Hastily, Julia replaced the clippers in her belt and moved forward, stumbling over Angelique, a fluffy male cat, who was batting furiously at their leaping miniature poodle.

Leave him alone, Oso, she automatically ordered the dog, with no results at all. Eyes on her husband, she stepped over the tussling animals.

Hi, she called, eyeing his suit. I like your new swimwear.

Very witty. I've got something important to tell you.

His voice carried an odd note of subdued tension. With the sun low over the palm trees and directly behind Jack, Julia couldn't see his face but she experienced a moment of panic. He couldn't have lost his job, that wonderful Financial Director position that paid for their elegant lifestyle and the girls' very expensive private education. Well, why not? All around them executives were being felled like wheat in a Kansas harvest. Chop, chop, down you go, and Jack was forty-seven, which seemed to be over the hill in most companies. Could she support the family with her job at the T.V. station? Certainly not in this style. Squeezing her hands together, she moved toward her husband, keenly aware of Sydney rhythmically gliding from one end of the pool to the other, not realizing that, in the next few minutes, a kaleidoscope might seem stable compared with her life.

What is it? She stepped to one side, forcing her husband to turn so that he was bathed in the sun's soft, flattering light. Anxiously, she scanned the tanned face framed by iron gray hair for signs of defeat or dismay. Instead, the startlingly blue eyes sparked with happiness.

I've been offered a fabulous job. It's a huge step up.

Relieved, her muscles relaxed and her fists unclenched. Oh, that's great. Is it another company? Jack had been headhunted in the past but had never found the jobs sufficiently tempting. Or maybe he wasn't up to the risk of the unknown.

Still Claymore Cable... He smiled, erasing the slight furrows between his dark eyebrows and deepening the lines around his cheeks, and Julia wondered fleetingly why wrinkles on a man were so much more attractive than on a woman. His even teeth flashed, the white enamel intensified by his dark beard and mustache, and Julia realized with a start that Jack was more handsome and much more sensual than he'd been when they'd married.

Well, are you going to tell me? she asked impatiently.

It's as president, he began. Julia gasped, her eyes wide. Behind her, Sydney continued to slip through the pool, the water only slightly disturbed by her dipping arms and fluttering legs. President of Claymore Brazil. There are some irregularities in the company books and I'm being sent to the rescue.

Confused, Julia simply stared. It had never occurred to her that Jack would consider work that involved leaving their Venice Beach home in California.

Well? he prompted, still smiling.

Brazil? There was a Brazil in Indiana not too far from Terre Haute, and she thought there was one in Tennessee, but neither sounded very tempting. Her eyes flicked over the large, two-story house that they had built, the peach, fig and apricot trees they had planted and her beloved rose garden, now numbering forty-eight carefully tended plants. Julia's brief spurt of enthusiasm was replaced by a feeling of loss.

Brazil the country, of course. We'll be living in São Paulo, the third biggest city in the world.

That was an enticement? Stunned, she continued to stare at her husband.

Have you accepted the job?

Of course! His smile was a bit less brilliant. This is a fantastic opportunity for all of us. A new country—an exotic one with new friends and places to visit. More money and...what's the matter?

His smile was gone and so was hers.

"You're supposed to talk it over with me before accepting the job. And they should send us to see the city and the office and then decide."

They offered to do that but there was no point since I really have no choice. If I turn it down, I'll never be offered another promotion, and you know it.

She did know it but now she was confused and annoyed. No choice? What about my job, which pays very well.

For a woman... It was a calm, factual statement that only served to fan the flames of anger.

Yes, what a pity I can't grow a penis. She'd worked hard for years to become the first woman Public Relations Director at the Business Channel; she was proud of herself, her achievement and the independence and status it gave her. She was now forty-four and, once she relinquished this job, she'd never get it back in age-conscious Los Angeles. Quite clearly Jack didn't give a damn about anything but himself. She was glad he was going bald on the top of his head.

Sarcasm kills, Julia.

"And what about Angel and Friends? They depend on me." Every Saturday, Julia, joined occasionally by Sydney, packaged and dispensed food staples to undocumented Hispanics at the local Center. It was work she loved.

There are plenty of other volunteers.

Oh, yes, let's flush everything away—my job, volunteer work and this house. You aren't thinking of me at all.

His face grew pink and his soft voice had lost its confident tone. You're wrong. I'm thinking of this whole family, Julia. While we're there I'll make double my current salary and the company's going to pay for everything—rent, condo fees, taxes, electricity, and car. It's the chance of a lifetime. And, he added hopefully, you can have a vacation from work and your charity activities. He ran his hands affectionately up and down her arms. You're going to love it there.

Jack was her best friend, the husband she had adored above all else for years and now he looked and sounded so miserable and beaten that Julia felt heartsick. Briefly, she stroked his cheek, her eyes softening.

I probably will, she conceded. "At least I speak Spanish almost fluently."

He lifted his shoulders apologetically. It's Portuguese in Brazil.

Portuguese, she repeated tonelessly.

Unnoticed by either of them, Sydney had finished her daily aquatic workout and now stood nearby, drying her tanned, slender body with a towel that matched her blue tank suit. Angelique sped along the ground closely pursued by Oso and then lifted in a graceful, furry leap to the veranda railing where, hissing occasionally under the soaring geese, he peered regally down at the dog.

What were you two arguing about?

We're discussing, not arguing.

Sure you are. In an earlier era, Sydney's perfectly oval face with just the hint of a cleft chin would have been described as elfin; now it was referred to as delicate. Brushing her extremely short cap of straight brown hair forward with the fingers of one hand, she slung the towel over her shoulder and looked from one parent to the other. So what's this discussion about?

Your father has accepted a job in Brazil.

"What?"

It's a wonderful chance for all of us, Jack said defensively. "It's only for two years, which isn't a lifetime. And they pay for everything, including your school fees."

They'll pay for Marlborough?

Well, not really. You'll have to come down with us and enroll in the American School.

Gray fur flattened by the wind, Angelique arced overhead, claws extended and, as soon as his paws touched earth, chased after a speedily retreating Oso. Both disappeared around a corner of the house.

Dad, it's my senior year, she wailed. What about my friends? And the Swim Team schedule, and performances of The Runner Stumbles? In case you've forgotten, I'm first understudy for Sister Rita, the female lead.

They probably put on high school plays in São Paulo.

I'm absolutely not changing schools, especially to one in a foreign country where they speak a language nobody else understands and I have no friends. I'll fail and have to work at Target or McDonalds instead of going to college.

Don't be absurd. Usually, Jack was lenient, even permissive, with both the girls but now his voice was cold and harsh.

I'll kill myself. Sydney began to cry. I'm staying here with Angelique and Oso. And Auntie Gail.

Julia took a deep breath. Grasping both her husband and daughter by their forearms, she turned them toward the house.

This is way out of hand, she said, her anger receding in the face of Sydney's obvious fear and near-hysteria. And her daughter did have a point. Changing schools in one's senior year was always problematic, but moving to another country where the language, culture, customs and food were unfamiliar was a recipe for disaster. Jack, why don't you go for a swim and Sydney can shower and change and I'll have a big glass of hemlock on the rocks while I get dinner. Let's all calm down and talk about it later.

Clearly, Jack was going to Brazil, and if she wanted to stay married to him she would have to go too, whether she liked it or not. Two years was a long time and there were always women that were happy to accompany a handsome, abandoned company president. Goodbye job where she was well paid (considering that she was a woman), and goodbye Angel and Friends where there were so many other volunteers that she wasn't really needed. Her stomach clenched with resentment. Get over it, she told herself sternly, and start thinking about what Sydney should do.

THREE—VENICE BEACH, CALIFORNIA

Gail Sanders knocked twice on Julia's front door and then flung it open, stepping inside as Oso and Angelique rushed out. Although it was Saturday, Gail was wearing a chic double-breasted, double-belted, moss green Bermuda shorts suit and carried a huge leather handbag, indicating to anyone who knew her that she was either on her way to or from a business appointment.

Yoo-hoo, it's your baby sister bearing gifts, she called, glancing into the empty living room and moving quickly toward the kitchen. Where is everybody? She stopped and closed her eyes, lifting her face dramatically toward the ceiling. And what is that heavenly chocolate smell?

Hi, Gail, Julia answered from the door of the library. I just made an apple fudge pie, and if you're very nice we can have two tiny pieces. With whipped cream... Julia turned and flapped one hand into the library. I'm thinking of putting a pothos plant in here, but I don't know if there's enough sunlight.

Gail frowned at her sister as the pair moved into the library. Why are you worrying about that now? You're going to be gone in a month. Rummaging in her handbag, she extracted a book. Here's your present. This is supposed to be the best English language guide to Brazil. I kind of glanced at a few pages and it's got tons of different stuff. There's information about parrots that live to be eighty years old and addresses of some incredible stores and restaurants, and even pictures of skimpy bikinis. Nothing about Buenos Aires, though.

Buenos Aires is in Argentina, not Brazil, Julia corrected automatically, looking alternately at her sister and the book. Accepting the gift, she collapsed onto an overstuffed chair. She really didn't want to discuss this with Gail, not after all the arguments she'd had with Jack and then the rows with Sydney. Thank God Stephanie was at college and didn't really care where her parents lived.

Thanks for the book, but I don't know if I'm going to Brazil.

Dramatically, Gail dropped her handbag on the floor. For a moment the two women stared at one another and then Gail leaned forward, her body rigid, her tone sharp.

What are you talking about? Are you crazy? You've got this fabulous opportunity that most people would kill for and you're going to stay here?

Exasperated, Julia snapped back, That's easy for you to say. You have your own business, no children, no pets and no husband, so you could just pick up and go. She lifted a hand, fingers spread, and began ticking off items with her other hand. "I have this house that I don't want to rent and can't leave empty, a dog and a cat that obviously can't go with us and a daughter that refuses to leave. My job will not be waiting when I get back and I'm very attached to the people at Angel and Friends."

"Who certainly will be waiting when you get back..."

It was an old argument. Legally, Angel and Friends should turn their clients over to Immigration rather than feed them and try to help with jobs and legal assistance but, as far as Julia was concerned, that would also be calloused and immoral.

Oh please, she said. You know as well as I do that California restaurant and farm and factory owners are only too happy to hire people with no papers and pay them half minimum wage. And no benefits either. As always, she felt exasperation begin to rise at her sister's stubborn stance.

In a gesture of helplessness, Gail flung her arms wide. Do stop, I'm not up to a sermon. So staying here is all your idea, not Jack's?

Yes, it's mine.

You are a ninny. I need a restorative drink. Gail strode to the built-in bar and mixed two gin and tonics, her face set. After handing one to her sister, Gail perched on a chaise-longue and said, I read in that book that they have a fabulous drink in Brazil called a caipirinha. Looking directly at her sister, she asked, Where is everybody?

Sydney's with her friends, Jack's playing tennis.

So we can speak freely?

We always do.

Gail flipped an errant blond curl off her forehead, sipped at her gin, and then raised her eyebrows, indicating disapproval. Julia watched her warily, both envying and resenting Gail's ability to bounce through life seemingly unaffected by problems and disasters. She was always on top of every situation while Julia seemed to struggle with even the simplest decision.

So, let's talk about this. What does Jack say about you staying here?

He's not very happy.

Ha! I'll bet. And Mary Beth?

Mary Beth Paulson and Julia, closest friends and confidants, spoke on the phone almost every day. She can't believe it.

I think you're a fool.

Julia sat rigidly in the chair, suffused with growing anger. Thanks.

Well, you are! Before you married Jack you said a hundred times that you hoped he wasn't a letch like Dad. Now you're going to turn your husband loose for two years in a country that's known to have some of the most beautiful women in the world while you stay here and trudge off to the TV studio each day. Explain that logic to me.

We've been married twenty years, and I have no reason to believe that Jack is an incorrigible womanizer. Or would he turn into one...

Gail crossed one leg over the other and pointed an index finger at her sister.

"Trust me, under the right circumstances, any man will wander. Not like our esteemed father,

Reviews for Passion Fruit

[gloria19-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is the tale of Julia who leaves a comfortable life in Venice Beach, California to go to Brazil with her husband Jack who has been transferred to Sao Paulo by his company. It explores her life as an ex-pat as she deals with the relatively small ex-pat community, local servants who do not speak english and an elaborate social life. She eventually establishes a life for herself as Jack grows more and more distant. Interesting diversions are provided by visits from her sister, Gail and her children from the US. None of the characters were developed fully. I would have liked to have known far more about Julia as a person. The travelogue aspect got a little boring after awhile and the most interesting action occurs in the last 100 pages of the book. Good beach reading. Nothing really is explored in depth.

[jamieredmond · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

If you are looking for a beach read about life as an ex-pat then this could be the book for you.It is very light on and has a few errors throughout, but it won't make you think too hard. Just be prepared for a small list of Portuguese words to be used annoyingly frequently!Also, the ending left me feeling that the last ten pages of the book were missing. I found it very abrupt.

[annebrooke · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a sprawling tale which meanders slowly through the life of Julia as she goes abroad to live with her husband. The descriptions of the Brazil scenery and customs are enjoyable but I never really felt I was part of Julia's life, and her friends were hard to differentiate. I did enjoy the scenes with Julia's sister in however and would have preferred for her to have a bigger role.From a slow start, a lot of activity suddenly happens in the last quarter, some of which is rather cliched and chick lit-like -which I didn't think was necessary for this travelogue kind of book. I'm glad the wretched husband got his comeuppance though, as I don't understand why Julia put up with him for so long.A pleasant enough read.

[pamjw · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Julia's husband Jack is sent to Sao Paulo for work. Julia leaves behind their beautiful house, their daughters and her job to go with him. Life in the ex-pat community of Sao Paulo is very different to what she is used to, as she learns to deal with servants and struggles to learn Portuguese. But Julia makes friends and finds her place in the community.Jack becomes distracted with the job he has been sent to do. He spends more and more time working and Julia has to make her own entertainment and find her own life.This is a pleasant story of how a woman learns to cope in a different country when her husband is too busy to be with her. Ito follows the turns of Julia's life in Sao Paulo and beyond, and how she finds her place.

[gentillylace · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Light and breezy novel set among the US expat set in São Paulo. Julia, a successful television executive who has been forced to give up her career in order to advance her husband's ambition, finds herself at loose ends in Brazil after her husband Jack is transferred there. The supporting characters are vividly portrayed, even if the "villains" are a little one-dimensional. I especially liked the melodramatic art historian Celeste, who habitually wears mourning for either Princess Diana or the Brazilian artist Cândido Portinari years after their deaths. "Passion Fruit" is a pleasant read, although the plot meanders somewhat for two-thirds of the novel and accelerates in the last hundred pages.Any North American planning to work or study in Brazil -- or who is accompanying someone who is planning to work or study in Brazil -- should read this book for some insights into differences between the Brazilian and North American cultures.