If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) (11 page)

She loved baking.

She loved watching
people’s reactions as they tasted her creations.

It both puzzled and
amazed her that such a simple thing could make her feel so happy.

Nothing she had
done in her former life had ever made her feel this happy and fulfilled.

Her life was her
own
to do as she pleased.

She wasn’t going to
think about Joe anymore. At least not in
that
way. In fact, it should be
easier being around him now without the stress of those burning emotions and
questions. He belonged to someone else.

End of story.

The
next morning, Willa placed two phone calls. The first was to Audrey to ask her
to get more details on the lease. An ecstatic Audrey promised she’d hop right
on it. The second call was to the phone number listed on the Rossetti
Construction website. The answering service assured her they’d deliver her
message as quickly as possible.

While she waited,
Willa focused on organizing the baking supplies in the pantry and trying to
quell the restless feelings that had kept her awake since the early morning
hours.

Her cellphone rang
twenty minutes later.

“Willa. I just got
a message you called?”

“Joe?”

“Yes. Is everything
okay?”

She sat down at the
kitchen table, suddenly feeling out of breath. “Have you done anything to the
wall unit yet?”

“No. I wasn’t
planning on working on that for at least another week. Why?”

“I’m going to open
a bakery,” she blurted. She slapped her palm against her forehead. “I mean I’m
thinking
of opening a bakery.”

“That’s great,
Willa. Judging by those cookies you made, I bet it will be a huge success.”

The supportive
warmth she heard in his voice filled her with fresh resolve. She straightened
her shoulders. “I’m thinking of calling it Aunt Pauline’s. After my aunt.”

“I like it.”

“I haven’t been
inside the space yet. But maybe the wall unit, or at least part of it, could
fit into the design some way. So don’t take it apart yet.”

“I won’t,” he
promised. “Where’s the space located?”

“On Thayer Street.
There’s a bakery there now. The owner is moving to South Carolina in June.”

“Wow. Great
location. When will you know for sure if you’re moving forward?”

“My friend Audrey
owns a store next door to the bakery. She’s looking into the details for me.
She says it’s almost one hundred percent turnkey.”

There was a pause
before he said, “I tell you what. Why don’t I come take a look at the space
with you? I can do an eyeball appraisal, see if that wall unit will fit, and
just make sure the space is structurally sound.”

She swallowed
against the sudden knot in her throat. She stood up from the table, paced over
to the kitchen sink and back again.

“Willa? You still
there?”

“Yes.”

“I’m free this
Saturday. Let’s meet at ten at the bakery.” His tone was decisive.

She felt a thrill
of excitement mixed with something like despair. “All right,” she agreed on a
breath.

“Good. I’ve got to
get back to work. See you Saturday, Willa.”

A
light rain was falling as Willa pulled into a parking space two blocks from the
bakery. Relaxing her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, she released a long
breath, letting go of some of her tension.

Another first
accomplished; she’d never driven into Providence alone before.

She pulled down the
sun visor and checked her appearance in the mirror. The dampness in the air
made her hair curlier than usual; she’d given up trying to tame it into a
ponytail and had left it loose to fall in soft, wavy tendrils down to her
shoulder blades. Her only concession to vanity was some mascara and tinted lip
balm.

This was a business
meeting.

Compressing her
mouth with resolve, she flipped the hood of her purple rain slicker over her
head and stepped out of the car.

She immediately
spotted Joe as she drew closer to the bakery. He was standing under a dark
green awning at the entrance, arms folded across his chest as he spoke with a
tall, slender girl standing beside him. The girl said something amusing, and he
laughed, the warm timbre of the compelling sound shooting straight into Willa’s
veins.

Her eyes only on
him, she didn’t pay attention to where she was going. Suddenly, she tripped
over something on the sidewalk—a bump in the concrete or her own two feet,
she’d never know—and lurched forward in a clumsy motion. She flung out her
arms, trying to catch her fall, to no avail. Her right knee hit the concrete—hard.
Momentum would’ve carried her forward, landing her flat on her face, if it
hadn’t been for the strong grip on her right arm, hauling her upright.

“I’ve got you,” Joe
said, catching her left elbow with his other hand and drawing her into a
protective embrace.

Her entire body
shuddered. For a brief, breathless moment she allowed her forehead to rest
against his chest. He was wearing a forest green rain jacket. It was slick with
rain. She felt the furnace-like heat of his body beneath the jacket.

“I’ve got you,
Willa.” he repeated, his soft voice washing over her like warm liquid. “Are you
okay?”

She pulled back, lifted
her head to look up at him.

She caught a flash
of some indecipherable feeling in his eyes that was quickly replaced with a
look of friendly concern.

She swallowed a
couple of times, loosening the tightness that clutched at her throat. “I think
so.”

She stepped
backwards, and he relaxed his grip. He made sure she was able to stand without
assistance before he let her go completely.

She took a few
steps, testing her knee. She inspected her jeans. There was a damp patch on the
knee, but no rips. “I’m fine,” she said stiffly. “Just embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” This
came from the girl who’d been standing beside Joe. “Things like that happen to
me all the time. I’m such a klutz.” She laughed self-effacingly.

“Let’s get out of
the rain,” Joe said gruffly, indicating they both follow him under the awning.

They came to a
huddle under the awning. Still feeling flustered, Willa glanced mutely from him
to the girl.

“This is my sister,
Sylvie,” Joe said. “Sylvie, Willa Cochrane.”

Sylvie held out her
hand. “It’s great to meet you, Willa. Joe and Tony told me all about you.”

Willa shook the
girl’s hand. She cleared her throat. “Oh?”

There was a hint of
red in Joe’s cheeks as he explained why he’d brought his sister along.
“Sylvie’s graduating from Johnson and Wales University in May. She’s been doing
her externship at a bakery in Newport. I thought it might be good for you to
run some ideas by her.”

“Part of my degree
is in food service management,” Sylvie added proudly. “I’m hoping to run my own
business someday. Maybe a delicatessen.”

Willa’s tension had
eased as soon as she’d learned that the young woman wasn’t Julia. If she hadn’t
been so focused on Joe, she probably would have guessed the relationship
sooner. Sylvie had the same dark coloring as her brothers. Long, wavy black
hair framed a pretty face that was warm and expressive. She was clearly excited
to be there; youthful enthusiasm radiated from her.

“That’s great,”
Willa said, finding her voice at last. “I’ll definitely have some questions for
you. I don’t know a thing about running a bakery.”

“But you know how
to bake,” Sylvie pointed out. “I managed to grab one of your cookies before my
brothers devoured them all. It was the
best
! Will you just be offering
cookies? Or will this be a full-service bakery?”

“Just cookies.”

Joe had been
watching this interaction, his eyes tracking from Willa to his sister and back
again. He looked pleased. His face relaxed into an easy smile. “Let’s go inside
and check it out.”

He held the door open
for them.

Inside, there was a
line to the counter, and all the chairs were occupied. Willa wondered if it was
the rain that had driven everyone indoors, or if the bakery was always this
busy.

“Not much seating
in here,” Joe observed, already assessing the space.

The interior was
constructed of brick and beam with a high tin ceiling. The front section facing
the street was all windows. Willa estimated there was about twenty square feet
between the entrance and the bakery counter. A long couch and two small
armchairs occupied one corner. A grouping of small, round glass-topped tables
surrounded by wicker chairs took up the other side. Wood display shelves filled
the wall behind the counter. A swinging door led to what Willa assumed was the
kitchen.

The room smelled of
sweet things and coffee and rain.

Willa breathed in,
a feeling of belonging and rightness permeating all of her senses. Catching
Joe’s inquiring expression, she smiled. “I like it,” she said softly.

He returned her
smile. “So do I. This is a fantastic space.”

“It needs better
seating,” Sylvie volunteered. She gestured towards the windows. “You could put
a counter all along the front here with bar stools. You could fit at least a
dozen seats there. Hey, you could call it The Cookie Bar!”

Willa laughed. “I
like that. But I want to keep my aunt’s name in the business. Pauline’s Cookie
Bar?”

Sylvie nodded
agreeably. “Joe told me about your aunt. Do you have pictures of her baking in
her kitchen? You could blow them up and put them on the walls.”

While they had been
talking, Joe had pulled a small notepad from his jacket pocket and was
sketching the room layout on it with a carpenter’s pencil. “Sylvie, why don’t
you get us some of those crullers. Maybe a few seats will open up while you’re
waiting in line.”

“Yes, brother
dear.”

His mouth twitched.

Willa stood beside
him, watching him sketch. “Audrey said the owner wouldn’t be here today,” she
said quietly. “I was hoping we could take some measurements, but it’s too
crowded.”

“I’m okay with
eyeballing it for now,” he said, not looking at her.

“Your sister has
some good ideas.”

“Yeah, she’s a real
go-getter,” he said, pride evident in his voice. He glanced up, eyes on his
sister as she moved forward in line.

“How old is she?”

“She’ll be
twenty-two in August.”

Willa did some
swift calculations. “She was only seven when your parents died.”

He inhaled sharply
and swiveled his head to look at her, his eyes piercing. “Tony told you about
that.”

Willa flinched.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”

He seemed to
consider his response. Finally, he shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“She must look at
you as both a father and a brother.”

He nodded. “I was
both. But, these days, it’s firmly in the brother category. She makes sure to
remind me of that when I get too stern with her.”

“Does she view Julia
as more of a sister? Or a mother?”

She knew she had
pushed too far, even as she spoke the question. She cringed inwardly, silently
damning the awkward social skills that had plagued her for most of her life.

A cold reserve
settled around Joe. His mouth flattened in a grim line as he studied her. He
seemed angry, but she couldn’t tell if it was with her or perhaps with Tony for
sharing such personal details with her. Or maybe, she wondered, he was angry at
himself for being reminded of his commitment to another woman? “I don’t know,”
he said eventually. “You’ll have to ask Sylvie that.”

He returned to his
sketching, his body language not inviting any further conversation.

Willa blinked back
the sudden moisture behind her eyes. She walked away, pretending interest in a
rotating rack of postcards near the door.

“Still no seats for
us,” Sylvie complained, sidling up to Willa a few minutes later. She held a bag
in one hand. “What do you want to do?”

“My friend Audrey
owns the shop next door,” Willa said. “We could sit in there.”

“You know Audrey?
Wow! I love her stuff. My friends and I go in there all the time.” Sylvie
turned to her brother. “Joe, come on. We’re going next door.”

Willa didn’t look
at him as she led them outside and one storefront down to Audrey’s doorstep.

Audrey was helping
a customer at the counter when they entered. She glanced up and did a
double-take. “Willa, what a surprise!”

“We were next door
looking at the space,” Willa explained. She hadn’t told any of the girls about
her plans for the day, wanting to keep them to herself.

“Excuse me for a
moment,” Audrey said to her customer. She came around the counter, arms
extended to give Willa a hug. Then she turned to Joe. “And you’re Joe Rossetti.
We haven’t met officially, but I was there on the first day of shooting. I’m
Audrey King.”