If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1)

by Sophia Renny

  “But you’ll be sharing it with your husband someday,” Collette said with absolute certainty.

  Although she didn’t look at him, Willa sensed Joe shifting in his chair. There was a strange tension in his voice as he continued. “I’ve designed the bedroom to accommodate a king-sized platform bed with built-in storage. And over in this section here is a sitting area. A place to relax at the end of the day before going to bed.”

  With every word he spoke, his voice became lower, huskier.

  Willa felt a strange clenching deep inside her body.

  “Let’s head back downstairs,” Tony said brusquely.

  “This is so cool,” Collette raved. “You guys must’ve had a blast putting this together.”

  Her excitement cut through the tension that had been gradually edging into the conversation.

  “We pretty much worked on it nonstop since we left Willa’s house on Monday,” Tony confessed.

  Willa’s house.

  It sounded strange to Willa’s ears. But as she kept her eyes glued on the screen, following along with Tony as he led them back down the stairs, she began, for the first time, to feel a sense of ownership.

  “We had to keep a couple of support columns in place here,” Tony explained as he led them towards the downstairs entranceway. “But, as you see, we’ve gone with an open concept here. Essentially, one large space combining living room, dining room and kitchen. The guest bathroom is tucked under the stairs here. And we’ve kept the utility and laundry rooms enclosed in this section here. Again, we’ve detailed in as many windows as possible. A half-wall here breaks up some of the space between the living room and dining room.”

  “Show Willa the entry to the porch,” Joe directed.

  “Oh, right. We both really liked the Dutch door that’s original to the house. How do you feel about keeping that in, Willa?”

  Collette spoke up for her. “Her aunt Pauline loved that door.”

  Willa gave a brief nod.

  Tony opened the door and took them onto the front porch. “We’ve extended the porch to wrap around three-quarters of the house, so you have access from the kitchen as well. This is such a great feature for our humid New England summers.”

  There was a pause.

  They were still on the porch.

  Willa turned her head to find Tony watching her with an uneasy expression. He cleared his throat, sounding slightly nervous. “Before I show you the kitchen, Willa, keep in mind that the design you choose is your decision. Joe and I did our best to keep your needs front and center as we drew out these plans.”

  “Okay,” Willa said, a slight question in her voice. She was aware of the cameramen moving closer, the heightened anticipation in the room.

  Tony redirected her attention to the screen. “As I said earlier, more than half the kitchen space was lost after the 1938 hurricane. We wanted to give that space back to you. You said you wanted as much counter space as possible.”

  She watched as he led her into a spacious kitchen with white cabinetry and granite countertops in a complementing neutral shade. There was a large center island, bar stools on one side. She noticed a stainless steel double oven and a gas range.

  “Where’s the refrigerator?” she asked.

  “It’s a sub-zero with a cabinet front,” Joe answered.

  “Get outta here,” Collette practically shouted. “That’s included with the prize?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “It’s a sponsored item.”

  Willa looked around the room. Her heart plummeted. “Where’s my aunt’s built-in cabinet?”

  Again came the long pause. Curtis seemed to loom closer with his camera. Willa swiveled her chair towards Tony. He hesitated for a moment, enough for Willa to wonder if he’d been directed to do so. “We know you wanted to keep that wall unit, Willa. I want you to take a look at the design with the cabinet kept in. I’ll put these side by side for comparison.”

  He directed her attention back to the screen.

  “As you can see, if we keep the cabinet in, you’ll lose more than half of your counter space. We can pick up some extra counter space by moving the main sink to the center island. Some of our clients like that option. But with the open concept plan, not everyone likes having dirty dishes on the island since that tends to be a social hub.”

  Willa folded her arms across her chest. Her vision blurred a little as she studied an overhead view of the two different designs side by side. Tony was right. She lost a ton of counter space by keeping the cabinet in. But she couldn’t imagine the room having the same warm and happy feeling without the memories that cabinet held for her.

  Collette gave her a commiserating look. “You’ll have more room for your baking with the first design, hon.”

  “I can see that.” Her voice sounded testy to her own ears.

  “And Tony’s right. I wouldn’t want my dirty dishes out in the middle of the room like that.”

  “Please, Collette. Let me think.”

  Willa felt the beginnings of a headache. Part of her was angry. It seemed pretty clear that Veronica and Sam had orchestrated the “story” to go in this direction—a little bit of drama and tension to keep the viewers’ interest. But another part of her demanded that she use her logic. It wasn’t as if they’d made anything up. The situation was real. An alternative solution had been presented. She just had to decide which was best for her.

  But this wasn’t some complex mathematical problem to solve. That she could do in her sleep. This was a problem tangled in a web of emotions. One of the first lessons her father had taught her was not to bring emotion into the equation, to keep things strictly black and white. What might seem like a simple decision to anyone else was clouded with gray inside her head.

  “Willa.”

  Joe’s voice penetrated her anxious thoughts. She turned towards him and lifted her troubled eyes to his.

  “Willa, do you trust me?”

  “I’ve only just met you,” she said with crisp logic. “I don’t know you well enough yet to give you an informed response.”

  He nodded his head. “I understand. That makes sense. But know that what I’m saying to you now is the truth.”

  Although the table between them was too wide for him to reach across and touch her, there was something almost physical in the way he looked at her that made her feel as though he had his arm curved around her shoulders.

  “I promise you that I will keep those happy memories of your Aunt Pauline in your kitchen,” he said, his voice pitched low as if they were the only two people in the room. “I’ll come up with some way to keep parts of that wall unit intact and incorporate it into the design. I don’t know how yet, but I will. You’ll still have that drawer. I understand what it means to you. Will you let me do that? I really feel that you’ll be happier with the larger kitchen in the long run.” He smiled. “Think of all the cookies you can set out on those counters.”

  She found it impossible to look away from the warmth and reason in his gaze. The empathy. And something else she couldn’t decipher. Something that sent a fluttery, burning heat through her veins. No man had ever looked at her like that before. It was as if he could see inside of her, map his way through the twisted web of her emotions, untangling each strand as he went along, clearing a path for her to follow. Relief flooded her senses. The muddled mess in her head cleared. Her body relaxed.

  “All right,” she said.

  “And then he says, ‘do you trust me, Willa?’ and she says—”

  “Actually, he said, ‘Willa, do you trust me.’”

  “Do you have to be so literal, Willa? The point is, it was like there wasn’t anyone else in the room. His eyes were like…laser beams or something. Focused only on her. I swear I stopped breathing.”

  “Clearly you didn’t,” Audrey teased. “Or you wouldn’t be here now.” She refilled their coffee cups. “So, which design did you choose, Willa?”

  Collette had decided to take Willa on a detour to Audrey’s e
ponymous jewelry store on Thayer Street before heading back to Conimicut. The busy street was in the heart of the Brown University area. The girls had taken Willa there once before, the same day they’d gone to the home show. The street was lined with an eclectic array of shops, restaurants, salons and bars—mostly catering to the college crowd and young professionals. Audrey’s jewelry designs were considered hip and fresh; her store was a perfect fit for that environment.

  Audrey had left the front of the store in her assistant’s care and taken them to her back room. A loveseat and two overstuffed armchairs surrounding an antique coffee table made up a cozy sitting area complete with vibrantly colored pillows and throws.

  Willa relaxed into her chair. The sense of peacefulness she’d felt since leaving the Rossetti brothers’ office still lingered. “I decided on the first plan, the one with the most counter space.”

  Audrey clapped her hands. “Excellent. You won’t regret it.”

  “I wonder how Joe is going to keep that cabinet in the room?” Collette mused.

  “He’s not keeping the entire cabinet,” Willa explained. “Just parts of it. Whatever he does will be a surprise.”

  “He likes you,” Audrey decided.

  Willa squirmed.

  “I think it’s more than that,” Collette said. “And his brother likes her, too. You should have seen the look he gave Joe when…”

  Willa let their voices drift away as her thoughts went back to that afternoon’s shoot. As soon as she’d made her decision, Tony—at the prodding of Veronica’s rolling hands—had quickly wrapped up their meeting. He told Willa that their crew would be over on Monday to remove the furniture. He and Joe would be working on the North Providence project through Tuesday, but they’d show up first thing Wednesday morning to begin the demolition.

  Cameras still hovering, Willa agreed to the schedule, thanked them for their time and said her goodbyes. Both brothers shook her hand again. “We’re keeping the cookies,” Tony said with a laugh. “I’ll bring the empty tin back on Wednesday.”

  Veronica took both Willa and Collette to the downstairs conference room for an interview.

  “Willa, are you happy with the kitchen design you’ve chosen?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t an easy decision. But Joe promised that he’d keep my aunt’s memory in that room. I believe him.”

  “It took some convincing. What made you trust him?”

  Willa looked straight into the camera lens. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. Joe doesn’t lie.”

  “…and they loved her cookies,” Collette was saying, luring Willa back into the present.

  “The way to a man’s heart,” Audrey said knowingly. Then she snapped her fingers. “That reminds me.” She turned to Willa. “The space next door will become vacant in two months. Stella’s moving out. Her husband got relocated to South Carolina. The bakery was just a hobby for her.”

  Willa knitted her brow. “So?”

  “So, you make the best damn cookies in the world, Willa Cochrane. You could open your own shop and make a fortune. And here’s a space next door with all the equipment already in place. It’s almost one hundred percent turnkey.”

  Willa’s frown deepened. What was Audrey getting at? When had Willa ever expressed interest in opening a bakery? “What are talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your future, Willa. Your next great adventure. As soon as Stella told me she was leaving, I had this crystal clear vision of you behind that counter, in that kitchen baking and selling your delicious cookies.” Audrey’s voice was prodding, but kind. “Just think of what an amazing and wonderful challenge that would be.”

  Chapter Five

  Willa thought about Audrey’s words once or twice as she finished clearing Pauline’s house of the smaller items. She decided it was a crazy idea and that she wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She baked for her own pleasure. She wasn’t going to turn it into a career.

  She called the girls over on Saturday afternoon to go through some of her aunt’s belongings—curio pieces, jewelry and china—that she thought they might like to have. She packed away a few items for herself and stored them in the apartment. The girls helped her lug everything else into the garage, to be sorted through later for a future yard sale. On Sunday, Collette helped her carry the living room armchair out to the end of the driveway, leaving it up for grabs for any passersby. If someone didn’t pick it up by the next garbage day, Willa would make an appointment with the recycling service.

  On Monday, a half dozen rugged-looking construction guys showed up to haul out all the furniture and appliances. Shirley just “happened” to stop by on that day. She split her time between staring out the apartment’s living room window and taking slow, flirtatious strolls to and from Collette’s house. Finally, Willa baked up a batch of cookies and asked Shirley if she’d mind bringing a plateful down to the guys. Shirley said she wouldn’t mind at all.

  On Tuesday, two huge green dumpsters were delivered to Willa’s house and placed in the driveway.

  Willa walked. She baked. She watched her television shows. She took one more long soak in Pauline’s bathtub, realizing it would be the last chance she’d have to enjoy that luxury for at least five weeks.

  On Tuesday night, she did an internet search on both Tony and Joe Rossetti. Other than their company website, they didn’t appear to have any other online presence. Veronica had told Willa that an “integrated marketing campaign” would go into effect in June, once they had more footage in the can. For now, there was a small blurb on the company website, informing Willa to stay tuned for an exciting announcement. On one of the pages she found a small photo of both brothers leaning against a countertop in a kitchen somewhere. They were wearing jeans, work boots, and tee-shirts that exposed their tan, sinewy arms. The camera had captured them laughing, as if one of them had just told a joke. Joe’s teeth were white and strong. His eyes crinkled at the corners. She printed out the photo and slipped it between the pages of her baking journal.

  On Wednesday morning, she rose earlier than usual. The weather had been growing steadily warmer, interspersed with the occasional April showers. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky today. She threw on a pair of yoga pants and a gray sweatshirt and laced up her walking shoes. She splashed some water on her face, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and headed out the door.

  Ten minutes later she was on the beach. The tide was low today, so she started on the south shore and made her way along the small slip of beach below the grassy park area that was only navigable when the tide was out. A few industrious sandpipers scurried along the beach ahead of her, poking their beaks into the wet sand.

  Willa walked around to the north shore and back again, detouring for a stroll out the sandbar. There were a few fishermen on the sandbar. She kept out of their way. When the water began to overlap the banks, she stopped and gazed towards the lighthouse. She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath.

  She felt those curious emotions again, as if she were on the precipice of discovering something amazing and beautiful. She dwelt on Collette’s conviction that Joe was interested in her. And maybe Tony was, too. Other than those few seconds in their office when Tony had appeared puzzled, neither one of them seemed turned off by the way she spoke or behaved. They seemed to genuinely like her.

  Was that why she felt so drawn to Joe? Just because he appeared to like her? Had she been so deprived of any real human connection all these years that she’d fall for the first man who didn’t look at her as though she’d recently escaped from an insane asylum?

  She released a choking laugh that was tinged with bitterness. She needed to be careful. She had to keep her guard up. Maybe both brothers were only playing to the cameras…

  “Willa?”

  She spun around.

  Tony stood behind her, holding a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cup in each hand. He held one out to her. “Coffee? I added a little bit of milk and sugar. Not sure what you like.”
<
br />   She reached for the cup. “That’s fine. Thank you.” She frowned. “How did you know I was out here?”

  “Collette told me. The crew’s setting up at the house. We have to get back there in a half hour.” He grinned as he took in their surroundings. “I haven’t been out here in years. Used to hang out on the beach with my friends back when I was in high school. This place can get a little crazy on weekend nights.” He cocked his thumb back towards the rocky perimeter of the park. “We’d build a fire right over there. Drink beer. Listen to music. Never went swimming, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “You never know what’s going to float down from Providence. I hear it’s much better than it used to be. But they still shut down this beach sometimes when the water gets too polluted.”

  “And here I thought it was such a pretty place.”

  “It still is. Most of the time.”

  She turned back towards the lighthouse, took a sip of her coffee. Tony came to stand beside her. “A kid drowned out here last summer,” he said somberly. “Guess he thought he could wade all the way to the lighthouse. He wasn’t a good swimmer. The currents pulled him under before he could be rescued.”

  Willa’s heart clenched. “Collette told me to be careful. This is the farthest I walk out.”

  “Good.” She felt his gaze on her. “We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, Willa.”

  She looked up at him, startled by his tone. There was friendly, teasing warmth in it, but that warmth coated a deeper layer that sounded serious and resolute.

  “Why are you here?” she asked abruptly.

  “Here on the show? Or here standing with you right now?”

  She’d meant the latter, but decided she’d like an answer to both questions.

  He shrugged, speaking before she could reply. “The other day when we were in the office, you told Joe that you didn’t know us well enough to trust us. I wanted to fix that.”

  “I trust Joe.”

  Tony took a long sip of coffee, seeming to deliberate his next words. “Everyone trusts Joe,” he eventually said, his tone serious. “That’s the kind of man he is. He’s one of the good guys. Decent. A rock. He’s my hero.”