Perhaps you’ve seen one of those articles about buying a house in Italy for as little as $1. And maybe your mind drifts to a stone palazzo, where you sit on your balcony, glass of Chianti in hand, listening to the lively chatter of the families passing below as the sun sinks toward a hilly horizon. Then you come to your senses: What kind of schmuck do they think I am?

It turns out, the truth lies somewhere in between the extremes — at least in Meredith Tabbone’s case. Like plenty of Americans with Italian roots, the 40-year-old financial adviser, who lives downtown, has long wondered what it might be like to live in Italy.