If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) (5 page)

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.”

“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 averted 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.”