When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2)

by Willis, Becki

  Amanda Hooper kept up a steady chatter as they followed her to the white van. As Nick hurried around the women to slide open the side door, she asked Madison, “So what made you call the show? Are you a big fan?”

  “Honestly?” She slid an apologetic glance Nick’s way. “I’ve never seen the show.”

  Genny spoke up and saved her friend from further embarrassment. “Actually, I’m the one who called. And yes, I am a fan. And I know the Big House will be exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “The Big House?” Amanda echoed.

  “What the local people call Juliet Blakely’s old mansion.”

  “Well, let’s go see the Big House,” Nick said, offering Genesis a hand in climbing into the van.

  Genesis guided them over the railroad track and into the town of Juliet. Two blocks, and they were there.

  Like its twin on the other side of the tracks, the estate encompassed an entire city block and featured a three-storied house with tiers and curves and plenty of lattice edging. Large old trees, mostly oak and massive pecan, dotted the yard. A few pines mixed in here and there for year-round color. Tucked behind the house was an assortment of necessary outbuildings: a carriage-house-turned-garage, the gardener’s shed, a sagging gazebo, and a battered caretaker’s cottage.

  Gazing at the Big House through the windshield, Nick let out an appreciative whistle. The women were already out of the van while he still ogled the mansion.

  “We can use the walk,” Madison said, scurrying ahead to the foot-gate. An elaborate white wrought-iron fence surrounded the property and featured an electronically operated gate for automobiles, but the smaller footpath served their purpose well. She opened the gate and led the way up the cobbled path edged with flowerbeds and small shrubs.

  Nick Vilardi craned his neck, trying to see everything at once. Pure wonder stole over his features. His mouth hung open as his lips curled upward in a smile. The look of enchantment somehow made him even more attractive, something Madison hardly needed. She was trying her best to ignore him so that she could get her reeling senses back under control.

  “Amanda, I haven’t even seen the inside yet,” Nick murmured, still looking around, “but I want this house.”

  “It is magnificent, isn’t it?” his producer agreed. Turning to Madison, she was clearly impressed. “And this house actually belongs to you?” It was more of a rhetorical question, meant as a compliment.

  “Well, not exactly,” Madison admitted.

  “What?” The barked word came from Nick Vilardi, as he snapped his attention back to the woman unlocking the front door. The smile immediately died on his face and suspicion crept into his eyes. “Is this some sort of prank? If you drug us all the way out here…”

  “Nick, before we jump to conclusions, let’s hear what they have to say,” Amanda said calmly, but the friendly light had gone from her eyes.

  Madison huffed out a sigh as Genesis quickly explained, “As I mentioned, I was the one to call the show.”

  “Oh, so you own the house.” Amanda looked relieved.

  “No, Granny Bert owns it. Madison’s grandmother. But she’s offered to sell the house to Madison.”

  Amanda Hooper was clearly confused. Nick Vilardi looked angry.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Irritation made the producer’s words sharp. “Why did you call our show, if neither of you own the house? We came all this way to see a home we could remodel for the actual owner, not a prospective buyer.”

  “Please, let me explain,” Genesis said. “This is a very historic home, built in 1915 by the founder of this town, but obviously it needs some major work. Madison’s grandmother wants to see that the mansion remains in the family and is restored to its former glory, but that will take a great deal of money. Please don’t be angry with Madison. Granny Bert and I took it upon ourselves to call your show and invite you here. Madison knew nothing about it.”

  Amanda was not appeased. She fairly snapped. “Exactly what were you hoping to accomplish by inviting us here?”

  Genesis pointed toward Nick and offered a simple reply. “His exact reaction.”

  Seeing their scrunched foreheads, she hurried on to explain. “I think if you’ll just step inside, you’ll understand why I called you. This house would be perfect for your television show. I can see an entire season being dedicated to its transformation, but of course, that’s not my call. Madison doesn’t have the money or the means to restore this house on her own. It will require a very talented and capable carpenter, someone who really knows their business. Please, just come inside and see if you agree.”

  Genny’s heart-felt speech was so compelling that the couple followed her inside without another word.

  One step into the foyer, and Nick Vilardi was practically drooling. He dropped to one knee and ran his hand over the old wood floor, his touch almost reverent. The finish was worn in places, its shine dull to none, but the beauty of the wood grain was undeniable. He rapped on the floor with his knuckles. “This is quarter sawn hickory,” he said in awe. “This is all original! And considering the age and the high traffic pattern, it is in remarkable shape.”

  Excitement glowed in his eyes as he peered around the room, his hand still touching the floor as if to stake his claim. “Look at that lattice work in the corners. The carving on that chair rail.” He stood up so that he could wander around the entryway. He seemed to be talking to himself, as much as to them. “The plaster is in poor shape, but that can be easily fixed. And that staircase! That banister is absolutely amazing.”

  He gazed around the room again, his mouth hanging agape as his dark blue eyes danced with imagination. When his attention zeroed in on Madison, she felt the jolt of his passionate enthusiasm. “This is incredible.”

  Genny grinned, displaying her dimples. “Just wait until you see the rest!”

  Madison swept along with the others, trying desperately to hide the fracas brewing within her. The passion on Nick Vilardi’s face was doing strange and wicked things to her. It was all she could do to ignore the man and concentrate on the tour.

  Madison had been inside the old house countless times. She had always thought it special, always thought it pretty in an outdated sort of way. But as they walked through the rooms today, seeing it through the eyes of a master carpenter, it was as if she were seeing it for the first time.

  What she once saw as simple wood wainscoting in the library, Nick Vilardi pointed out as exquisite burled walnut panels. He explained the process in harvesting the natural phenomenon and pointed out the movement in the wood’s grain, comparing it to granite. He gave her a brief history of the front parlor’s inlaid Italian marble fireplace, explaining why that particular cream and mocha color pattern was so rare, particularly for its day and age.

  As a teenager, Madison had been amused with the panoramic scene painted around the dining room walls, but there was sheer delight in Amanda Hooper’s face when she saw the creation. She immediately identified the work of renowned twentieth century artist Seymour Addison. The visual story of a southern cotton plantation told upon the old walls was of museum quality, she said. When she named an estimated worth of the artwork, Madison’s mouth fell open and Genny’s eyes bulged.

  The foursome walked through the remainder of the first floor, confirming what the women already knew; the stained glass windows were exquisite, pocket doors connecting small rooms together to function as one large room were ingenuous, and the kitchen was atrocious.

  The stairs, Nick claimed, were a masterpiece all in themselves. Madison loved the way they turned and twisted all the way up to the third floor. She loved all the neat angles, the spacious landings at each quarter turn. She saw them as simple wood risers, stiles painted white with dark stained steps, conveniently created wide enough to transport furniture. Nick saw them as not only art, but as a piece of history. He pointed out the different woods used in construction. He explained that the mix of hickory, oak, and mahogany was a clue to its authen
ticity and made the structure all the more valuable, both historically and financially.

  The second floor was dedicated to bedrooms and a small library. As an avid reader, Juliet Randolph Blakely made certain she had plenty of books and ample space to read them. All six bedrooms on the second floor had their own sitting room, and two featured a corner turret. In contrast to the generous accommodations, there was only one bathroom to share among them.

  “I can’t get over these staircases,” Amanda said as she ascended the flight to the third floor. “The workmanship is amazing.”

  Only three rooms comprised the uppermost level. Pocket doors sectioned off the turrets, which were originally intended as sitting rooms. The space between them was one long, narrow room.

  “A ballroom?” Amanda asked in glee, clasping her hands together. “How absolutely fabulous!”

  “Look at those floors,” Nick murmured. Once again, he went down on bended knee to examine the hardwood flooring that still held a faint glimmer of its original polish and shine. “Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

  “Now do you see why I brought you here?” Genesis beamed.

  A light shone in the stormy-blue depths of Nick Vilardi’s eyes. It could be described as excitement, perhaps zeal, but Madison decided the best description was hunger. There was no doubt he craved this house and the opportunity to restore it to its former glory.

  “So what it is that you propose, Miss Baker?” he asked, slanting a crooked eyebrow her way. His voice was a mixture of caution and eagerness, flavored with a touch of skepticism.

  “That you restore this house so that Madison and her children can live here.”

  “You’re married?” The surprise was evident in his voice as his eyes flew to Madison. She thought she saw disappointment flash in his eyes, but there was no denying the censure there.

  “Widowed,” she corrected quietly. She waited for the look of pity that usually followed her announcement, waited for the sense of guilt that normally snuck upon her. Propriety dictated she feel grief over the title, particularly so soon after Gray’s death; her apathy most often created more guilt than any sense of actual mourning.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Nick replied with sincerity.

  “Widowed and homeless, with teenage twins,” Genesis announced, bobbing her blond head for emphasis. She refused to meet her friend’s eyes, knowing they would be ablaze with embarrassment and indignation. In her opinion, now was not the time for pride, not when she was trying to make a deal. “She’s in the process of buying the house from her grandmother, but there’s no money in her budget for renovations, not the way they should be done. A house like this deserves special attention, don’t you agree? And that is why I called you. Would you or would you not be interested in featuring this house on Home Again?”

  “Of course we’re interested…” Amanda’s voiced trailed off with a silent ‘but’. She shot a glance at Nick, whose stormy-blue eyes reflected his thoughts on the matter.

  “Could we have a few moments alone?” he suggested.

  “Of course! Take all the time you need.”

  “Do you mind if we take a few photos?” Amanda asked.

  “Take all you like,” Madison offered. “We’ll go on downstairs. You can join us when you’re done.”

  “Yes, take your time,” Genesis agreed. “We’ll wait for you in the dining room. Now that you’ve educated me on that mural, I want to take a closer look at it.”

  At the reminder of the mural, Amanda’s eyes glowed, exactly as Genesis intended.

  Madison waited until they cleared the second floor and were descending the final staircase to hiss, “I couldn’t believe you back there! Why did you tell them I was homeless?”

  “Because you are.”

  “I am not homeless!” she denied in an adamant whisper.

  “You live with your eighty-year-old grandmother because the bank forced you to either sell your home at a loss or have it go into foreclosure.” Her gentle tone softened the harsh truth of the words.

  Madison looked glum. “I’ve lost just about everything I have, Genny. Do you have to take my pride, as well?”

  “Aw, honey, I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m trying to get your house remodeled for free!”

  “Free? Are you crazy? There’s no way they will remodel this place for free. It’s going to cost a fortune.”

  “Yep,” Genesis agreed glibly as they reached the bottom step. “Which is why you can’t afford it and they can.”

  “But for free? There’s no way.”

  “Didn’t you see that look in Nick Vilardi’s eyes? He’s already in love with this house. That look on his face tells me he’s not about to let this jewel get away. And Amanda will go along with it, if for no other reason than the dining room mural.”

  “Where did you learn your negotiating skills, by the way? Having her meet us in the dining room was almost cruel.”

  “Not cruel, strategic. If for some reason they decide to pass, one more look at those walls will definitely change her mind!” Genny grinned with unabashed confidence.

  “You should be the one working at the used car lot, not me,” Madison mumbled.

  Clearly unconcerned with her friend’s implied insult, Genesis looked down as her phone binged. Fishing the instrument out of her pocket, she frowned as she read the text message across the screen. “It’s the restaurant. I swear, I can’t leave that place for ten minutes without things falling apart!”

  “And you love every minute of it!”

  “Yeah I do,” she admitted with a guilty grin. “Excuse me while I call Shilo Dawne and see exactly what she means by ‘the shit just hit the fan’.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  As Genesis went into the dining room to make her call, Madison wandered into the front parlor. She tried to imagine a time when homes necessitated so many rooms. The elegant home she and Gray occupied in Dallas featured both a formal living room and a comfortable den, but for years, Granny Bert had managed comfortably with one single room to serve both functions. Juliet Blakely, however, needed a formal parlor, a ladies parlor, a library, a formal dining room, and a breakfast room. Combined with the kitchen, a butler’s pantry, one bathroom, a laundry room and several functional porches, the first floor of the Big House had a sprawling footprint.

  Oh, and she couldn’t forget the hidden hallways. Where were they, by the way?

  “Hello?” a familiar voice called from the foyer.

  Madison recognized the pleasant baritone. “In here!” she called back. “Front parlor, to the left.”

  Brash deCordova re-snapped the leather strap over his holstered gun as he stepped into the room. Adjusting the firearm securely at his side, the police officer eyed her with concern.

  “Everything all right?” he asked. He sounded cautious, perhaps anticipating trouble.

  “Yes, yes, everything’s fine.”

  He came closer, bringing with him the hint of spicy cologne, security, and old high school dreams. As always, it was a heady combination, all wrapped up in a handsome, sexy package.

  Madison liked to think she out-grew her teenage crush years ago, but the butterflies in her stomach danced a different tune.

  “Are you sure?” he worried. “Excuse me for saying so, but you don’t look fine. Something’s wrong.”

  His words brought to mind a similar compliment from a few weeks ago, when first their paths re-crossed. She had just found a dead body, and she looked and smelled worse than death itself. That day, the actual words had been silent, the message clear: she looked horrible.

  His words also brought to mind a true compliment a few days later, this one as warm and flattering as his brown eyes when he saw her cleaned up and properly dressed. That was the beginning of several subtle attempts to flirt with her.

  It brought to mind the eager way she craved his attention, even when she believed him a married man. Madison’s hand instinctively went to her shortened hair, remembering how Brash had unknowingly inspi
red her new hairstyle. Much to her chagrin, she admittedly wanted to impress him, in spite of her firm belief in marriage vows. She almost allowed him to kiss her, still believing he had a wife. Never mind that she had resisted at the last minute. She chastised him for cheating on the mother of his child, but his reaction was one of hurt, not shame; he had been divorced for over ten years. He was disappointed that her opinion of him was so low. Since that time, encounters between them were awkward and few.

  His words brought to mind the situation she was in now, with no money, no home, no clear path for the future. They brought to mind the dilemma of the day; walking through the Big House—seeing it through the eyes of Nick Vilardi and Amanda Hooper—made her yearn deep in her soul for something that could not be. She would love to own the house, to be the one to restore it and fill its vacant halls with love and laughter, to finally make the empty old house a home. The irony of today’s tour was that it showed her how much she wanted to live here, and how impossible that dream really was.

  Brash’s words brought to mind Nick Vilardi, and the fool she had made of herself. How embarrassing, jerking like that from a simple touch. When had she become so pathetic? It seemed to be a special talent she had, behaving like an idiot in front of men she was attracted to.

  “Maddy?” Brash repeated, coming close enough to touch her cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Ridiculously close to tears, Madison closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his large palm. “That would take too long,” she whispered.

  “I have time, if you do.” His words were warm and reassuring, the first real promise she had not done permanent damage to their budding . . . what? Relationship? Romance? It was still too new and foreign to even have a name.

  Madison opened her eyes to look into Brash’s face, hopeful she might find the answer there.

  Her attention, however, was snagged by the smiling man entering the room behind Brash. Nick Vilardi stepped into the parlor with his producer close behind.

  Nick’s stormy-blue gaze went immediately to the uniformed man touching her face. When his eyes flickered back to hers, they held a quick flash of accusation. The look was gone in an instant, right along with the smile from his face.