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

She’d never been
comfortable with people her own age. With these fifty-something year old women,
she found herself letting down her guard, unworried about what they might
think. They were the girlfriends she’d never had.

“She talked about
you moving here, you know,” Collette said, recalling Willa from her thoughts.
“That was her greatest wish. Towards the end, she’d say things like ‘when Willa
gets here’, or ‘be sure to tell Willa’. It was like she was clairvoyant or
something.”

“What do you think
she would tell me today?”

“She would’ve been
jumping up and down with the rest of us girls. She would’ve wanted you to go
for it, to have this place done up proper. It’s what her fiancé had always
wanted. I think the only reason Pauline didn’t change make any major changes in
here was because of her memories of him. Him painting this kitchen. Putting in the
paneling and the flooring. But this is your house now.
Your
memories to
start making.”

Willa released a
shaky sigh. “I’m not sure about this television thing. The cameras. People
watching me. What if I do or say something awkward?”

“Not gonna happen,
hon. You’re the smartest girl I know. And pretty, too. The cameras will love
you.”

At
precisely three o’clock on Monday afternoon, Veronica Myers swept into Pauline’s
house like a hurricane. Fortyish, tall, thin, dressed in black from her
stiletto knee-high boots to the fedora on her short, fringed black hair, she
owned the room. After congratulating Willa on winning the contest, she
introduced the young man and woman who’d trailed in behind her. They both
looked fresh out of college. “Tiffany is interning as a field producer, Sam as
a script writer.”

Willa’s eyebrows
shot up. She exchanged a look with Collette, who’d insisted on being there for
moral support.

“Script writer?”
Collette asked. “I thought this was a reality show.”

Veronica winked
conspiratorially. “If you only knew just
how
scripted most of those
shows really are…”

“It’s more like a
shooting script,” Sam jumped in, earnest and eager, the perfect intern. “I’m
just taking notes today that will help us start shaping the narrative.”

“Won’t you take us
on a tour?” Veronica asked, already walking down the hallway with a purposeful
stride. A great deal of oohing and ahhing ensued as the woman breezed through
every room in the house. Willa wondered at her enthusiasm; Veronica sounded
like she was touring a Newport mansion.

When they returned
to the living room, Veronica made a grand sweeping gesture with both arms.
“Willa, this is
fabulous
,” she raved. “The perfect ‘before’ house. Our viewers
are going to love it! This will definitely be the biggest project the guys have
tackled so far. Good thing we have all those home show sponsors pitching in,
because I’m sure we’ll have to gut this out completely. This will take at least
five weeks, maybe six, once we have the permits.”

Willa leaned
against a side table, her knees feeling weak. “That long?”

“We’ll need to
start shooting next week,” Veronica continued, timetables and deadlines dancing
in her eyes as she looked around the room. “The guys will be dividing their
time between this project and one in North Providence for the next month. We
have to keep to a very tight production schedule. Tiffany, are you writing this
down?”

“Yes, Veronica.”

“We want you to
meet the guys on camera, not before, Willa. I want viewers to see your genuine
reaction to meeting them for the first time. Too bad we couldn’t film your
reaction to hearing you won the prize. I hate to ask, but can you fake it? Can
you pretend not to have known that you won?”

“I don’t like
pretending things,” Willa said, her tone flat.

Collette came to
stand beside her, tucking her arm through Willa’s, effectively pulling
Veronica’s perplexed appraisal away from Willa to herself. “Who are these guys
you’re talking about?” she asked, all bright curiosity.

“The Rossetti
brothers. Tony and Joe. They’re Rhode Island natives.” Veronica’s attention
refocused on Willa. “Are you from around here, Willa?”

“No. I’ve lived in
California all my life.”

“Perfect. We’ll get
some shots of you trying to understand what the guys are saying. We’ll have
them lay it on thick. Did you note that, Sam?”

“Yes, Veronica.”

Willa stood up
straight, folding her arms across her chest. “I have no problem understanding
the Rhode Island accent,” she asserted. “I love it, actually.”

She’d met people
like Veronica before. Men and women dressed in dark colors, strutting
importantly around cold, cavernous rooms filled with cameras and lights. “
Can
you smile into the camera, Willa
?” they prodded. “
Come on, sweetheart,
don’t be shy. You’re such a pretty little girl
.” And her father, pinching
her arm, his seething whispers in her ear. “
Do what you’re told, Wilhelmina.
After everything I did to get you here. Don’t blow it
.”

Those
memories—memories she thought she’d buried years ago—had kept her tossing and
turning restlessly in her bed for the past two nights. She hadn’t wanted to be
in front of those cameras back then. She hadn’t really understood what was
going on, other than strangers asking her questions—stupid questions that they
should have known the answers to already. She remembered writing things on whiteboards
at her father’s urging and those strangers clapping their hands and laughing in
delight as if she’d done the most amazing thing in the world.

She’d awoken
yesterday morning resolved to tell Collette that she’d changed her mind, that
Collette or one of the girls should take the prize instead.

But that was
something the old Willa would’ve done; the Willa she’d been before her father
died. She still didn’t know who the new Willa was. But she knew for certain
that she was going to live the remainder of her life on her
own
terms,
controlled by nothing but her own needs and desires.

For the first time
since she’d moved to Rhode Island, she found herself excited about the unknown
possibilities of her future. Collette and the girls had relentlessly been poking
and prying at Willa’s cocoon. Now, here she was, ready for her metamorphosis.
It struck her—in a way it never had until now—that she alone had full control
over her life. This prospect, the very unfamiliarity of it, both daunted and
excited her.

She’d been planning
to renovate Pauline’s house anyway. Money wasn’t an issue and never would be.
She couldn’t live in the house as it was. It was too cluttered and dark;
opening the doors and windows in the summertime wasn’t going to fix that.
Winning the contest was just forcing her to do things sooner than she’d anticipated.
But maybe she needed that forcing. Maybe she
was
getting too comfortable
in that apartment.

When Collette had
pushed her to get out more, putting herself on national television wasn’t exactly
what Willa had envisioned! Still, it might be fun.

Fun. That wasn’t
something she was much acquainted with. When she thought of the last time she’d
truly had fun, her memories carried her back to her seventh summer and the time
she’d spent with her aunt in this house.

Ultimately, if she
discovered that she wasn’t comfortable in front of the cameras, then she could
back out. She’d let Collette step in and have her fifteen minutes of fame while
Willa stayed behind the scenes. That was the backup plan Collette and the girls
had jokingly devised over several glasses of wine on Saturday night.

Willa felt
Collette’s hand squeeze her arm in gentle reassurance. “So, I understand these
brothers are filming a new series?” Collette asked Veronica. “What’s it called?
Are there any episodes we can watch yet? I think Willa would like to have a
better idea of how this is going to work.”

“I’m sorry,”
Veronica said, her tone kind but firm. “Nothing’s in the can yet. The network
bought six episodes for now. They’ll begin airing in September. This will be
the third project so far. Why don’t we sit in the kitchen, and I’ll explain the
process?”

Collette kept her
arm looped through Willa’s, holding her back as Veronica and her entourage left
the room. “You okay, hon?”

Willa gave a brief,
harsh laugh. “She’s very aggressive, isn’t she.”

“She’s a New
Yorker. That’s just the way most of them are. Don’t mistake it for rudeness. I
think she’s genuine. She really seems to like this place.” Collette’s grin was
coaxing. “Come on. Let’s listen to what she has to say.”

To Willa’s relief,
Veronica explained that the production crew wouldn’t be there every day. “We
only come in to get the key shots. Your first meeting and the walkthrough which
will happen next week. Then it will take about a week for the guys to put
together their designs. We’ll have you come to their office in Providence to shoot
that segment. Next will be demolition day. When that happens will depend on how
long it takes to get the permits. We always ask the homeowners to pitch in, help
knock down a wall or rip out flooring. Our viewers like that. From that point
forward, what we choose to shoot will depend on how the story is shaping. The
construction crew might come across some dry rot or mold, for example, or some
structural impediment that might impact the new design. We’ll get shots of the
guys pointing this out to you and your reaction. We’ll do a few confession cam
and on-the-fly shots, getting your thoughts and Tony and Joe’s thoughts on how
the remodel is going so far. The last day will be the final reveal. All said,
across the time it takes to do the renovation, there might be only six to ten
days where we’re actually filming anything.”

Collette came over
to the table with a tea tray and set it down. “That sounds easy enough to me,”
she said as she poured out the tea. “What do you think, Willa?”

Willa hesitated. “I
assume this series focuses primarily on the house, right? I’m not an actor. I
don’t know how comfortable I’ll be in front of the cameras. I’ve only seen one
or two reality shows, but it seems to me there was some kind of audition or
casting process, right?”

Veronica’s
expression was candid as she studied Willa’s face. “I won’t lie. We do look at
the people, not just the project. It’s great to have homeowners with a vibrant
personality, who are excited to be in front of the camera. But sometimes the
project is so compelling—like this one will be—that we can work around someone
who might be camera-shy. You don’t strike me as being shy though, Willa.” Her
look turned probing. “Is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to be on
television? You have very striking features. The cameras are going to love
you.”

Collette, who’d
been hovering near the table, scooted onto the bench next to Willa. “Doesn’t
she?” she chirped. “She looks just like her aunt, who was the previous owner of
this place.”

“How long did she
live here?” Sam asked. His cheeks reddened when Veronica arched one winged
eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat nervously. “We just need to know a few
things about your background, Willa. For the narrative.”

Willa tensed. “What
kinds of things?”

“Oh, nothing too
personal,” Veronica soothed. “We don’t reveal the homeowners’ last names on the
show. Other than mentioning the town the property is in, we edit out anything
that might identify your actual physical address. But we’d like to know more
about you. How long you’ve lived here, what you do for a living, etcetera. Sam
has a list of questions he’ll review with you once we have all the paperwork
signed off.”

“Her aunt lived
here for over sixty years,” Collette said. “We have pictures of this place
going back to the 1930s. You wouldn’t mind showing those on TV, would you,
Willa?”

“That would be
fine.”

“Willa is a
teacher,” Collette rattled on. “But she’s on sabbatical for a while. That’s all
you need to know, right?”

“Er, yes,” Veronica
said, clearly bemused by Collette’s directness. She returned her attention to
Willa. “As I said, Sam will go over those questions in more detail with you
before we start shooting. Are there any other reassurances I can give you,
Willa? Please know that I’ve been producing shows like this for years. I take
great pride in my work. And our whole crew will take care to ensure that you
and this house will be shown in the best light possible. Are you ready to move
forward?”

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.”