If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) (6 page)

“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.”

“It’s my favorite
room,” she confessed.

“Do you like to
cook?” Joe asked.

“I like to cook. I
love
to bake. I get that from my aunt, I think. I remember her baking cookies and
cakes in here. This room always smelled delicious.”

“Mmm. You’ll have
to bake some cookies for us,” Tony said teasingly. “We won’t let you in for the
final reveal until you do.”

She was startled by
her own laughter. Some of the tension inside of her dissolved. “I could do
that. But not in that oven. It doesn’t work.”

“Too bad,” Tony said.
“I can find a replica if you want to have a similar look in here?”

She shrugged. “I
don’t know if it’s so much the design of this room, or the happy memories that
were made in here.”

“Would you say that
having a large kitchen is important to you?” Joe asked. He’d walked over to the
built-in wall unit. He traced his fingers slowly over the surface, not looking
at Willa.

“Yes. I’d love to
have at least three times as much counter space than there is right now.”

“This will have to
come out then,” he said, sounding grim. He opened the stained glass cupboard
doors. “Too bad this is a built-in. It’s a nice piece of furniture. Looks
original to the house. Whoever made this was a master craftsman. Probably the
same person who built that Dutch door in the living room.”

Willa didn’t think
she had any feelings one way or the other about removing the wall unit until
Joe tugged on the upper right hand drawer. Suddenly, she had a vivid memory of
her aunt opening that same drawer, pulling out paper, crayons, colored pencils.

“No!”

She rushed forward,
brushing against Joe’s side as she peered inside the drawer.

Nothing had
changed. It was all still there, as if the drawer hadn’t been opened since that
long ago summer. Crayons, pencils, tape and scissors. Tucked in the back corner
was an unfinished work, a childish artistic endeavor depicting two trees, a
faceless stick figure holding a basket of flowers. The paper was curled up at
the edges, browned with age. WILLA was written in big, bold letters along the
bottom.

She released a
soft, sighing breath.

This drawer
contained love.

She carefully
removed the drawing, her hands trembling. “No,” she said again, her voice
lowered. “You can’t take this down.”

She felt fingers
grazing her right arm just below her elbow. They seemed to burn through the
thin fabric of her blouse as they slid down to gently encircle her wrist,
keeping her hand steady.

“You drew this?”
Joe asked, his voice soft and low as he lifted both their hands upwards so he
could get a closer look at the drawing.

“Yes. When I was
seven. That was the only time I came to visit here. Every morning, I’d sit at
the breakfast nook and draw while my aunt did her baking.”

“Sounds like a
happy memory.”

She had to tilt her
head back to meet his eyes. This close, she was even more aware of his height
and his strength. She was aware—in a way she never had been before—of her own
femininity. Something shifted inside of her.

She heard him say
something, but his voice seemed to come from a great distance.

It was Tony who was
speaking. He’d come to stand on the other side of her. “Cute,” he said,
studying the drawing. “You should have that framed.”

Willa suddenly
remembered that there were cameras in the room and that her every word and
expression was being recorded. She took a jerking step away from Joe, feeling
his fingers tighten briefly before he released her wrist.

“Yes,” she said on
a shaky breath. “That’s a good idea.”

“We can try and
work around this wall,” Tony went on, his tone reassuring. “We’ll put a couple
of different layouts together for you; show you all your options.”

“Okay. That sounds
good.”

“I just have a few
more questions for you, Willa. A few more things that my brother and I need to
know before we begin pulling the designs together. Why don’t we go out to the
backyard while we talk? This renovation includes landscaping, too. Did you know
that?”

During
their tour of the back and side yards, Tony asked his questions: What was her
favorite color? Did she enjoy any other activities or hobbies aside from
baking? Did she find any particular architectural style more appealing than
another? Did she have a favorite artist or type of art?

She gave vague
responses, hoping they made sense for the cameras. Her thoughts were
concentrated on Tony’s brother, who hadn’t spoken another word since they’d
walked outside.

Finally, someone
shouted, “Cut!”

Veronica hurried
towards them, her face beaming. “That was great! Tony and Joe, please go with
Tiffany and Curtis to the front of the house for your interviews. Willa, let’s
go into the kitchen with Steve.”

Veronica posed
Willa at the breakfast nook, the crayon drawing on the table in front of her so
it was visible to the camera. While the camera rolled, Veronica asked leading
questions, encouraging Willa to share whatever was in her head. “We’ll be
editing out my voice. Just talk to the camera like I’m not even here. Okay? You
seemed surprised when you opened the front door. Why?”

Willa narrowed her
eyes. “That’s the reaction you were hoping for, right?”

Veronica merely
arched her eyebrows.

Willa sighed. “I
was very surprised when I opened the front door. I wasn’t expecting the
brothers to be so…young. How old are they?”

“Joe is
thirty-three. Tony is twenty-seven.”

“How long have they
been in the construction business?”

“Their father
started the business before they were born. They grew up working on houses. Are
you worried they don’t know what they’re doing?”

“No. They seemed
very competent. Tony asked some good questions. Joe seems to like old
furniture. I’ve never given my aunt’s furniture much thought, personally. I
grew up in a house that was very modern. Everything was always new and neat and
clean. I guess I wasn’t taught to appreciate older things.”

“Can you explain
what was going through your head when Joe opened that drawer in the kitchen?”

“I thought it was
pretty evident what happened. You see, I haven’t looked inside those drawers
since I moved here. I’d only been inside the kitchen a few times since January.
My best and happiest memories of this house took place in that kitchen. When
Joe opened the drawer, those memories came flooding back. That’s all.”

“It sounds like
keeping that wall unit intact is important to you.”

“Yes. I didn’t
realize until that moment just how important it would be.” Willa blinked,
unfamiliar emotions rising to the surface. Her voice was a little shaky as she
finished her thoughts. “I’m not sure how they’ll be able to work around it. I’m
really looking forward to seeing the designs they come up with.”

“Perfect, Willa.
That’s all we need for now.”

The audio technician
approached Willa to help her remove the lapel mic. After both he and the
cameraman had left the kitchen, Veronica’s features relaxed. She reached across
the table and squeezed Willa’s hand. “You did great today! How do you feel?”

“I’m not sure,” Willa
said with a frown. “I feel like there’s something more going on here. Is there
something you’re not telling me?”

Veronica was
clearly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“When you insisted
that I not meet the brothers until shooting began…  Why did you do that?”

“I did that with
the other episodes, too, Willa. Not just this one. I
am
trying to make
each episode as real as possible. God, I get so annoyed when reality shows look
too staged and scripted. I want this series to stand apart.”

Willa considered Veronica’s
response and felt the sincerity behind her words. “All right, that sounds
reasonable.” She managed a smile. “I think you got your ‘good TV’ today. All
the single, female viewers are going to be jealous of me.”

Veronica laughed,
fanning one hand in front of her face. “Not just the single ones. I confess the
words ‘eye candy’ were the first to pop into my head when I viewed the audition
tapes Tony sent to the network last year.”

“Is either of them
married?”

“No. Otherwise I
would’ve yelled ‘cut’ when you were all upstairs, and Tony had his hand on you.
Those two are born charmers, especially Tony. He was made for television. He
has an instinct for saying and doing the right things that will draw in the
viewers.”

Willa looked down
at the crayon drawing, tracing a fingernail slowly across her printed name.
“Joe didn’t seem to like being on camera,” she observed, keeping her voice
nonchalant. “He was very quiet at first.”

Veronica sighed.
“We’ve been working on that. It wasn’t his idea to do this series—”

There was a soft rap
on the backdoor before it cracked open enough for Collette to poke her head
inside. “Are you done yet?” she stage-whispered.