If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) Page 4

  The question struck Willa in a deeper way than Veronica could have realized. A picture of Pauline and her fiancé standing in front of this house flashed in her head. How happy they’d appeared, the hope of a promising future together shining from their young faces. They seemed to be smiling at Willa now, encouraging her to do not just what was right for this house, but what was right for her. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m ready.”

  “Wonderful! Tiffany, go get my satchel from the car. I’ll walk you through the paperwork, Willa. Naturally, there are some contracts involved with this: appearance releases, insurance disclaimers, non-disclosure agreements. It’s all cut-and-dried, but I understand if you’d like to review everything with a lawyer before signing. I’ll leave the papers with you. I’ll need signatures by Thursday if we’re to stay on track with the production schedule.”

  Veronica swept her gaze around the room. Her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm. “I like the story here. I can already picture what this place will look like when all is said and done. We’re going to reinvigorate this house, Willa. Give it new life and make it yours. You’re going to love it.”

  Chapter Three

  “This is it, Willa. Are you ready?”

  Willa glanced at Veronica and nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Veronica reached over to straighten the collar of Willa’s blouse where an audio technician had clipped a lapel microphone a few minutes earlier. “You look great. I’m glad we switched from the purple.”

  Veronica had arrived that morning ahead of the crew to advise Willa on what to wear. Willa had already laid out a few possibilities on her bed. Veronica had eyed them, quickly selected a pair of brushed denim leggings and a purple tunic sweater and had Willa try them on. Dissatisfied, she’d invaded Willa’s closet, muttering to herself as she shoved the hangers this way and that before pouncing on a sea green, long-sleeved blouse with a ruffled hem.

  “This is lovely,” she’d insisted when Willa shook her head. “Very girly and flirty. Especially with these nude wedge pumps.”

  “It’s not warm enough yet to wear that.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a beautiful, sunny spring day. And green ties in with the theme of this project. It’s the color of fresh beginnings.” She held the blouse under Willa’s chin. “Ooh. Perfect. The color brings out the gold highlights in your hair and makes your eyes look more green than blue. Come on, Willa. Try it on.”

  Over the last week, Willa had discovered that the woman’s energy was unflagging; she created a whirlwind wherever she went, and Willa couldn’t help but be swept along for the ride.

  Collette had been right. Veronica might come across as bossy and aggressive, but she truly seemed to care about the project and Willa.

  Veronica had met with Willa twice in the past week since their first meeting the previous Monday: once to pick up the signed paperwork, the second time for breakfast at a diner in Warwick, Sam in tow.

  Willa had chosen not to bring Collette to that meeting, determined to face this new challenge on her own. As if sensing Willa’s tension, Veronica had kicked off their conversation by sharing a few stories of her first time working on a production crew, revealing how nervous and scared she’d been, the embarrassing mistakes she’d made. By the time they’d finished breakfast, Willa had given Sam several pages of notes about the history of the house, her relationship with her aunt, and a few glimpses into her life in California—nothing too revealing, but both Sam and Veronica had appeared satisfied.

  On Veronica’s advice, Willa had gone through the house and cleared out most of the items that might have given viewers the impression that her aunt had been a hoarder—which was not true at all. She trashed all the newspapers and magazines from the living room bookcase, emptied the bathroom and pantry cabinets, and packed away the smaller pieces from the curio cabinet. She dusted, vacuumed and mopped, but, again per Veronica, kept the windows and doors shut.

  “We want to start out in this dark, cold space, just like you did in January. The transition from the dark to light and bright will be amazing.”

  Collette and the girls had been kept abreast of every detail. As if Willa had any real choice not to involve them. Between Collette’s daily visits and phone calls from Mercy, Shirley and Audrey throughout the week, there’d been no time for Willa to listen to the tiny twinges of doubt that still lurked deep inside.

  There was no backing out now.

  Veronica recalled Willa’s thoughts to the present. “I’m heading out now. Okay?” She’d already explained how that day’s shooting would work, with Veronica monitoring the camera shots from a remote video truck parked on the street, communicating via the headsets that all the crew were wearing.

  The crew had been setting up for the last couple of hours, laying out cables, assembling lighting equipment, scoping out different camera angles, doing audio checks, etcetera. The girls had all taken the day off and were perched in lawn chairs on Collette’s driveway. A few curious neighbors hovered nearby.

  Willa had only a few minutes to talk with the girls before Veronica had shooed her back inside the house. “The guys will be here any minute,” she’d said. “Remember, I don’t want you to see them until we’re rolling.”

  Now it was time.

  Willa stood in the hallway, a cameraman—he’d introduced himself as Curtis—standing a few feet to her right, ready to capture images of her opening the door and greeting the Rossetti brothers. “Okay,” Willa said, more to herself than to Veronica. “I’m ready.”

  Veronica’s expression was a mixture of relief and anticipation. She held up two fingers. “The doorbell will ring in two minutes. Remember, just be yourself. Pretend the cameras aren’t even here.”

  Easier said than done. “Okay.”

  Veronica scooted out the door. As previously directed, Willa watched Curtis for her cue. She took a deep breath in, slowly released it. Curtis gave her a thumbs-up.

  Action.

  The doorbell rang.

  Willa took another deep breath, put a smile on her face and opened the door.

  “Hello there. You must be Willa. I’m Tony Rossetti and this is my brother, Joe. It’s great to meet you. Congratulations on winning the contest!”

  “Thank you,” Willa said. She blinked under the glare of the daylight as well as the light coming from the camera behind the two men who stood on the doorstep. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  She couldn’t see their faces clearly yet. She had the impression of height and broad shoulders and strength—sheer, unapologetic masculinity. One or both of them wore a subtle cologne that had a woodsy smell. Cedar, she thought.

  “Come on in,” she invited, making a sweeping gesture with her hand. She heard the tremor in her voice, felt the sudden flush on her cheeks.

  Keep it together, Willa.

  She stepped away from the door, making room for the men to walk over the threshold. As they wiped their work boots on the entryway rug, her eyes finally adjusted to the light, and she was able to get a better look.

  Their Italian heritage was evident. Both men had black hair and brown eyes. The man standing closest to her—Tony, she thought—had a close-cropped haircut that emphasized his handsome, clean-cut features. He was slightly shorter than the man behind him. His teeth gleamed white as he smiled at her, his olive-toned cheeks dimpled. His eyes were sparkly and warm. Like his brother, he was dressed in dark blue jeans, brown leather work boots, and a tan button-down shirt with the words Rossetti Construction emblazoned in burgundy script on the right chest.

  His brother’s hair was thick and wavy on top, cut closer on the sides. Bold arching eyebrows and long eyelashes framed the deeper, richer color of his eyes. A day’s growth of beard merely accentuated the strong lines of his facial bone structure, the shape of his firm mouth.

  This man was not smiling. There was a curious stillness about him as he observed her, a steady watchfulness that instantly put her on edge for some reason.

  Willa avert
ed her gaze from his, returning her attention to the other brother as he stepped closer.

  “So, Willa, I hear you inherited this place from your aunt?”

  She straightened her shoulders, focused on keeping her voice steady and calm. “Yes. My Aunt Pauline. She passed away last November. She’d lived here since the 1950s.”

  “And you moved here from California,” he continued. “Whereabouts?”

  “Northern California. The San Jose area?”

  “That’s a big move coming here to Little Rhody. How are you liking it so far?”

  “It took a while to get used to the cold,” she admitted. “But it’s getting better now that the weather has started to warm up.”

  “Just wait until August. You’ll be wishing for that snow then!”

  This man was a natural in front of the cameras. He had a boyish, dynamic charm that seemed genuine. “Why don’t you take me and Joe for a tour?” he suggested with an encouraging smile. “We’d like you to tell us more about this place.”

  She was right; he was Tony.

  The quiet man was Joe.

  She gave Tony a brief nod and waved him towards the living room. “Okay. This house was originally designed as a summer cottage. My aunt’s fiancé winterized the downstairs back in 1951, just before they were to have been married. He died in a boating accident one week before the wedding.”

  Veronica and Sam had asked her to go into these details. They said that they might have a narrator recite the history of the house instead, depending on the quality of the footage they got of Willa’s conversations with the brothers. Willa had written down the things she’d wanted to highlight and practiced them in front of her bedroom mirror until she sounded natural and not rehearsed. It had brought her back to her first days in front of a classroom. She’d spent hours prepping lecture notes, speaking the words aloud, striving for a warmth and spontaneity that she didn’t feel.

  Yet no amount of practice in front of the mirror could have prepared her for this moment. As she talked with Tony, in the back of her mind she wondered if Veronica had intentionally blindsided her by insisting that Willa not meet the brothers before the crew began shooting.

  Good TV, Veronica had said several times during her discussions with Willa. It was all about what the viewers wanted to see. Apparently, a single, young woman—clearly shocked to find out that the men who were about to remodel her house were young and extremely good-looking—was “good TV”.

  “Did your aunt make any changes to the house since then?” Tony asked.

  “Nothing major. I think she replaced the carpets once or twice and maybe some of the windows.”

  “It’s incredible that this house not only survived the hurricane of 1938, but it also remained standing against Hurricane Carol in 1954,” Tony exclaimed. “This area was one of the worst hit along the New England coast.”

  Willa caught him giving his brother a speaking glance, his forehead creased with puzzlement. She braved a glance at Joe, who was looking around him with an assessing gaze, as though he hadn’t been paying much attention to the house until that moment. He cleared his throat. “This house has good bones,” he offered. His voice was slightly rough around the edges. “I can already see the character hiding beneath the surface.”

  He returned his eyes to Willa.

  She swallowed and immediately re-focused her attention on Tony, who was nodding in eager agreement to his brother’s somewhat stilted observation. She thought she saw a flicker of relief in his eyes as he turned to Willa. “I agree. Let’s take a look at the rest of the house, Willa.”

  She led them into the dining room next. As Tony commented on the quality of the antique table and chairs, Joe pushed aside the heavy curtains that blocked the window. The room was instantly flooded with natural light and dust motes.

  Tony coughed. “I take it this room wasn’t used much?”

  “I don’t think so. My aunt was rarely home. She traveled a lot. When she was here, she spent most of her time outdoors, in her garden or at the beach.”

  “Do you like to entertain?” This question came from Joe. She felt him watching her, his scrutiny so intense it was almost a physical sensation, as if his fingertips were grazing across her skin.

  “I didn’t in California,” she said without looking at him. “I might like to here. I have a group of girlfriends who are very social.”

  “What do you do for a living?” Again, from Joe.

  Puzzled by his questions, she flicked a glance at his face, giving him the same assessing stare he was giving her. At once, she decided to relegate him to an object to be studied, observed much in the same way she might examine an intricate mathematical problem. This decision put her slightly more at ease. “I was… I’m a teacher,” she said, glad to hear the coolness in her voice. “I didn’t have any time to entertain. Would you like to see the master bedroom now?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she pivoted away from the brothers and headed for the hallway. She was only dimly aware of Curtis and another cameraman lurking in the background.

  She walked into the bedroom, moving to the far side of the room to make space for the men. Before Joe could do it, she shoved aside the curtains. “These are the original furnishings. Too heavy for this house, as you can see. I think her fiancé had planned to put all the bedrooms upstairs. This was supposed to be temporary.”

  “Is this where you sleep?” Joe asked.

  “No. I haven’t been living in this house. There’s an apartment above the garage. I moved in there.”

  “Would you want your bedroom upstairs or down?” Tony asked.

  She cocked her head to one side, giving the question some thought. “Upstairs,” she decided. “I’ve become used to that from living in the apartment. I get glimpses of the bay through the trees. I like being up high like that.”

  “Upstairs it is,” Tony said affably. “Let’s go take a look at what’s up there now.”

  They waited at the bottom of the staircase while Curtis went up first to set up the camera shot. During the pause, Tony whispered, “You’re doing great, Willa.”

  He followed directly behind her as she climbed up the stairs. Halfway up, she felt the light touch of his palm against the small of her back. “Whew!” he said with a laugh. “This staircase is a little too steep. We’ll have to do something about that.”

  His hand was still on her back when they reached the top of the stairs. Very aware of the camera, Willa sidestepped out of his reach. Behind him, she caught Joe watching her again. Something hard flickered in his expression before he slid his glance away.

  “This is bigger than it appears from the outside,” Tony observed.

  “It’s mostly storage,” Willa said. She led them down the hallway. There were two small bedrooms on one side with a shared bathroom between. The remaining space had essentially been used as an attic. There were a couple of steamer trunks in one corner, a few rusty metal bedframes, an old canoe and an eclectic collection of furniture odds and ends.

  Joe slowly ran his palm along the curve of a wooden headboard. “This is cherry wood,” he murmured. “Brazilian, I think.” He shot a look at Willa. “Are you planning on using any of this furniture in the remodel?”

  “I don’t know.” She heard the quiver in her voice and wondered at its source. “I haven’t really looked at any of these things. It’s been too cold to come up here for too long, until now.”

  “My brother’s the expert when it comes to furniture and cabinet design,” Tony informed Willa as he moved to stand beside her. “We’ll have everything hauled out to our warehouse. We’ll help you sort through it, decide what you want to keep or sell.”

  “Or toss,” Joe added, giving one of the rusty bedframes a light kick with his steel-toed boot. He reached up and touched the ceiling. He didn’t have to reach too far. The drop ceiling was lower than average, and he was tall. But not in an overwhelming way; she guessed he was an inch or two shy of six feet. She found her eyes trailing across
his shoulders and chest, observing the way his shirt stretched across his torso.

  “This can be opened up to the beams,” he continued, drawing her gaze back to where his hand pressed against the ceiling. “We could put a couple of skylights up here. We could even turn this space into one large master bedroom. Do you have children, Willa?”

  The abruptness of both his question and the look he gave her as he spoke her name for the first time sent a mysterious tingling up her spine. She swallowed. “No… No, I’m not married.”

  “Let me ask you this, then. Do you see yourself living here for a long time? Raising a family here, maybe? Or will this be a summer home?”

  She had an immediate flashback of herself as a child, lying in the backyard hammock, counting the leaves in the maple trees. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “I’d like to raise a family here. It’s a good neighborhood.”

  His eyes seemed to glow with a warm inner light as he held her gaze. Another shiver of disturbance raced through her. She veered her eyes away from his.

  “There are definitely some great possibilities with this space,” Tony said, his tone upbeat. “Let’s go take a look at the kitchen.”

  This time no one spoke as they waited for the cameramen to get set up in the kitchen. Standing beside Tony in the hallway, Willa happened to glance up at the exact moment when the brothers exchanged a look. Tony’s eyebrows were raised in question. Joe was frowning back at him. She was relieved when Curtis gave them their cue to proceed.

  Tony walked alongside her into the kitchen, Joe slightly behind. “Wow! This is straight out of a 1950’s sitcom,” Tony enthused. “We have clients who pay top dollar to get this retro look. And you have the genuine article.”