by Sophia Renny
“You’re so smart for a pretty girl!”
She still remembered that television interview, after all these years. It was one of the first her father had dragged her to. A man with an ugly tie and a jowly face had spoken those words to her and laughed as if he’d said something brilliantly funny.
Her father hadn’t been amused. He didn’t want the interviewers focused on his daughter’s looks; he wanted them to be astounded by her intelligence. Out went the frilly dresses and the ribbons in her hair; in came the khakis and polo shirts and, later, the lab coats. If she hadn’t gone into hysterics, he might even have cut her hair into a bob. She wouldn’t let him get close enough to try. In her mind, her hair was linked with her mother; her most tender memories were of her mother brushing Willa’s long hair every night before tucking her into bed.
Her father had never brushed her hair. Her father had hardly touched her at all, other than to give her subtle pinches and pokes during interviews when she lapsed into one of her daydreams.
She wasn’t allowed to daydream. She wasn’t allowed to cry or complain. Her life was centered on books, formulas and equations. Nothing else was allowed to matter.
If her father had heard her today, he would’ve gone into seizures. A teacher? After all those years of work, all that he had sacrificed for her, that was the only title she chose to give herself on national television?
Willa smiled at her reflection. It was a Collette smile: wicked and brash.
Take that, old man, her smile said.
While the water drained from the tub, she slipped into a clean pair of sweatpants and a baggy cotton shirt, mopped up the damp spots on the floor, hung up the towels.
Turning off the light, she made her way through the kitchen to the backdoor. As if of their own accord, her feet carried her over to the wall unit. She stretched out her hand, traced her fingers along the surface of one of the shelves, then down to the top right drawer.
Funny how Veronica had thought Willa would have trouble understanding that Rhode Island accent. When it was spoken in a low, gruff voice, she loved it even more.
Chapter Four
Veronica called on Thursday evening to ask Willa if she was able to come to the Rossetti Construction office the following afternoon to take a look at the design options.
“They drew them up that fast?” Willa asked, astounded.
“We had to make some adjustments to the schedule for the North Providence project. They had some free time.”
“Can I bring Collette with me? I’d like a second opinion.”
“That actually might work well. She’s quite the character. I think the viewers will like her.”
Collette literally jumped out of her chair when Willa asked her to come along. “Are you kidding me? Wait until the girls hear about this. What should I wear?”
Acting as Collette’s impromptu wardrobe consultant helped ease some of the tension that had been ratcheting inside of Willa since Monday.
Clearing out Pauline’s house had helped a little bit too, keeping her mind and energy focused. She’d finished boxing up all the small items in the living room and was now working on the dining room. According to Veronica, the interior demolition would begin a few days after Willa approved the designs. The construction crew would haul out the larger furniture items and appliances, but everything else was tasked to Willa.
The weather had continued to warm as the week progressed, and Willa had opened up all the windows and doors, letting the fresh spring breeze blow out the musty smells. A vision of what she wanted the new interior to look like began to take shape.
She wondered if the Rossetti brothers’ vision would be similar to her own.
She’d thought about both of them a lot since Monday. She thought about the things she’d said, the way they’d both looked at her. She wondered if they thought she was odd. That thought dropped her into brief moments of depression that were intermingled with sudden, curious sensations of joy, when she felt as though something passionately and mysteriously beautiful was about to happen to her.
She, with her sharp, analytical mind, couldn’t describe these feelings to anyone, let alone explain them to herself. She didn’t like not understanding things. Thus, the tension.
After reassuring Collette for the umpteenth time that the purple eye shadow looked better than the silver, Willa set her mind to the simple pleasure of baking cookies.
Back in February, she’d discovered her aunt’s recipe box tucked in a kitchen cupboard. Of all the things Pauline had baked, it was her cookies that Willa remembered most vividly. Crisp on the outside with soft, chewy centers. Oatmeal and raisin. Chocolate chip. Snickerdoodles. Willa tried every recipe her aunt had written down.
There was a science to baking that intrigued her. Currently, she was working on fine-tuning the ingredients for a mixture that could potentially become the base for a dozen different cookie recipes. Her detailed, vigilant notes now filled almost every page of a previously blank journal she’d found in the nightstand next to her aunt’s bed. Note: try half teaspoon of salt on next variation. Note: see what happens if I switch vegetable oil with coconut oil. Note: sea salt and milk chocolate, salty and sweet combo. Note: Cornflakes?
Good thing she didn’t eat all of the cookies she made, or she’d end up being one of those people hauled out of their home on a forklift. Every week, she sent Collette to her job at the library with a few dozen cookies. Sometimes Mercy took a batch or two to her church choir practice. Audrey would take a plate to set out for customers at her jewelry store. Shirley was waiting for Willa to come up with a gluten-free recipe. That was next on Willa’s to-do list.
She found herself getting lost in her baking the way she’d once gotten lost in her books.
Tonight, she decided to add chocolate chips and walnuts to the base. Men liked chocolate, didn’t they?
The interns, Sam and Tiffany, greeted Willa and Collette when they arrived at the building that housed the Rossetti Construction office. It was a three-story red brick structure just off Chalkstone Avenue in Providence. Willa, still not comfortable finding her way around, had asked Collette to drive.
“Veronica’s upstairs talking with the guys,” Sam explained. “She wanted us to walk you through the shoot. Jake will get you mic’d. Do you mind if Tiffany touches up your hair and make-up?”
While he was speaking, he led them into a small conference room just off the lobby. Jake, the audio technician, was waiting inside with the microphone equipment.
“I just want to add some powder,” Tiffany said. “It can get hot under the lights. This will cut down the shine.”
Collette and Willa stood still while Jake attached their lapel mics and did a sound check, and Tiffany applied the face powder.
Sam flipped through his notes. “This will be pretty simple. We’re going to walk upstairs in a few minutes. The cameras will shoot you entering the room, the guys greeting you. You’ll sit down at the conference table. The designs will be projected from Tony’s laptop to a screen. Feel free to ask anything you want. Take your time reviewing everything. Don’t worry about long pauses. We’ll have those edited out. Once you select the design you like the best, we’re done.”
“I can talk, right?” Collette asked.
“Sure! Willa can introduce you when you first walk in. Just be natural, like the cameras aren’t even in the room.”
Collette fluffed her hair. “I’ll do my best, kiddo.”
Sam eyed the tin container Willa had been clutching to her chest since she’d stepped out of Collette’s car. “What’s that you got there?”
Willa lifted the lid. “Chocolate chip cookies. Have one.”
Sam grabbed a cookie and bit in. His eyes turned into saucers. “Oh, wow! These are awesome.”
Willa gave him a questioning look. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. This is the best cookie I’ve ever tasted.”
Jake sidled closer. “Can I have one?”
His reaction was almost
a mirror image of Sam’s. “Oh, my God. You made these?”
“She doesn’t believe me when I tell her how much all my co-workers rave about her cookies,” Collette said, beaming proudly. “She could open a bakery, don’t you think?”
“I’d be the first in line,” Jake said, grabbing another cookie. He offered it to Tiffany first, who winced. “Can’t,” she said. “I’m vegan.”
“I’m working on vegan and gluten-free recipes,” Willa said.
Tiffany’s cellphone chirped, signaling a text. She glanced down at the screen. “Veronica says they’re ready for us. Let’s go.”
She and Sam led them upstairs, pausing on the landing outside a wide, wood-paneled door. A discreet brass sign next to the door displayed the words Rossetti Construction. Tiffany thumbed a text, waited a few seconds and then gave Willa a nod. “Go on in.”
“Hang on a sec,” Collette said. “Let me catch my breath after going up those stairs. Is my face shiny again?”
Seeing Collette’s nervousness helped settle some of the butterflies in Willa’s stomach. “You look lovely,” she soothed.
Collette’s face relaxed into a cocky grin. “So do you.”
Heeding Veronica’s advice, Willa had chosen to wear a lightweight lavender tunic sweater over black leggings. Black pumps added three inches to her petite frame. She’d pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail. She tucked an errant strand behind her ear. Her fingers only shook a little bit.
Tiffany’s phone chirped impatiently. “Ready now?” she urged.
Exchanging another look with Collette, Willa straightened her shoulders and reached for the door handle.
Stepping inside the room, her initial glance took in a large, high-ceilinged brick and beam interior with floor-to-ceiling windows along the exterior walls and a maple hardwood floor. But the warm surroundings faded as her gaze zoomed in on the two men walking towards her.
“Hello, Willa,” Tony said, extending his hand. “Good to see you again. How are you?”
Willa cradled the cookie tin in her left arm and held out her right hand to shake Tony’s. She kept her attention concentrated on him as she released his hand and gestured to Collette, who was hovering slightly behind her. “I’m well. This is my next-door neighbor, Collette. She was friends with my aunt for over twenty years. I brought her along as an advisor. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Tony said enthusiastically. He offered his hand to Collette. “Great to meet you, Collette.”
As he exchanged pleasantries with Collette, Joe moved closer. “Hello, Willa,” he said.
His raspy voice grabbed her low.
“Hello.”
He held out his hand. She placed hers in his grasp. His grip was warm and firm. She looked down at their hands, struck by how small her hand appeared in his. All coherent thought escaped her as her gaze slid from his hand to his body. He was wearing a cobalt blue dress shirt tucked inside black slacks. Her eyes flickered from the silver on his belt buckle to the buttons on his shirt—there were six of them—then slowly drifted farther upwards, noting how the perfectly tailored shirt emphasized the breadth of his chest and shoulders.
His grip tightened, and she looked at his face, her eyes tangling with his. She swallowed, alarmed by the intensity she saw in his expression, all directed at her.
Tony said something. Joe slowly released her hand. He turned to Collette, said something as he shook her hand. Then both brothers returned their attention to Willa.
Flustered, she held out the cookie tin. “I made cookies,” she said bluntly.
Both men appeared caught off guard as they looked at her and then down at her offering. It was Tony who spoke first. “You made these for us? Are you sure you want us to have them now? You haven’t seen the designs yet. You might change your mind.” He laughed with mock self-deprecation.
“Yes, I made them for you,” Willa said, frowning at the question. “They’re fresh. I made them last night. Have one.”
Joe smiled at her. He took a cookie and bit into it. His eyes lit up. “Oh, my God.”
Tony nudged him aside. “Let me at them.” He took a bite and let out a groan. “Oh, my God is right.”
“Willa,” Collette said with a chuckle, “I think you have a name for that recipe: Oh my God Cookies.”
“These are wicked good,” Tony raved. He chewed slowly, puzzling out the flavor. “What’s this interesting ingredient I’m tasting?”
“One cup of sugar, one cup of brown sugar, a cup of butter, one egg, oil…” Willa’s words, spoken in a clipped tone as if she were reading the recipe from her journal, drifted into an awkward silence as she recognized the befuddled look Tony was giving her. He cocked his head to one side, brow wrinkling. It was the kind of look she’d received too many times to count over the course of her life.
She felt her cheeks turning red. She wanted to dig a hole and crawl inside. Panic looming, she shot a helpless look at Collette, who gave her an encouraging smile.
She felt a hand touch her arm, drawing her attention to Joe, who’d stepped closer. His brown eyes crinkled at the corners; his face creased in a warm smile. “Oil, you said? That’s interesting. Any special kind?”
She swallowed. “Safflower oil. I tested the recipe using coconut oil, but the cookies didn’t have the same consistency. They were too dry.”
“Whatever you put in this recipe, don’t change it. They’re perfect.” Joe nodded at the cookie tin and held out his hands. “Why don’t I take those for now, before my brother eats them all.” With a light tug, he took the tin from her. He swept his hand toward the far corner of the room. “Let’s go to the conference area. We have a couple of different designs for you to look at.”
Collette stuck close to Willa’s side as they followed the brothers across the room to an oblong conference table. “Stop worrying,” Collette whispered. “You’re doing fine.”
Willa gave a curt nod, suddenly aware of the other people in the room: Veronica, watching them both with a keen eye, one hand cupping a headset closer to her ear, Curtis, his camera aimed directly at her, red light glowing, Steve, the other cameraman, in another corner of the room, lens pointed towards the brothers. She averted her eyes, keeping her gaze directed toward the conference table where Joe and Tony stood waiting.
Tony pulled out chairs for both Willa and Collette and invited them to sit down. He sat at the head of the table, to Willa’s immediate left. Joe sat directly across from her.
“So, we put together a couple of design options for you, Willa. Joe and I are really enthusiastic about this project, in case you couldn’t tell.” He touched the laptop keyboard in front of him and pointed towards the large plasma screen attached to the wall facing them. There was the black and white photo of Pauline and her mother standing in front of the house. “We were curious about this picture because it shows a portion of the house that’s no longer there. We were able to get a hold of the original building plans. That extension there used to be part of the kitchen.”
“Yes,” Collette said. “Pauline said that was damaged in the ’38 hurricane.”
“Right,” Tony said. “So now the kitchen is less than half of its original size.” He clicked to the next screen. “But we’ll save the kitchen layout for last. Let’s take a look at the upstairs first.”
Willa watched, fascinated, as Tony led them on a virtual 3-D tour up an open staircase to the second floor. “We’ve relocated the stairs to the left interior side of the house, creating additional floor space on both levels. We’ve also adjusted the pitch of the stairs so they aren’t as steep. The stairs open up to a common use area. Here’s a perfect corner for a window seat and bookcase, or maybe an exercise area. Down this hall we have two bedrooms with a shared bathroom. And here…”
Tony paused at the closed door, intentionally building the anticipation. Collette sent him an impatient glower. “Come on, Tony. Open the door.”
Willa heard Joe laugh softly, but she kept her eyes on the screen.
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Tony clicked forward. The door opened. Collette oohed. Willa leaned forward in her chair. “This,” Tony said, “was all Joe’s design. We’ve exposed the beams, extended the ceiling height and added in skylights. All windows along these two walls.”
“We’ve incorporated as many energy-efficient products into the design as possible,” Joe said. “These are triple-paned windows with low-emissivity glass. I suggest using bamboo floors in here with matching window trim, and keeping the walls a neutral shade of white.”
“Ooh, I like that!” Collette nudged Willa. “Isn’t that gorgeous, hon? The room’s so light and airy. It’ll be like sleeping on a cloud.”
Willa could only nod her head. Her eyes shifted rapidly from one design detail to another. It was almost too much to process. She was aware of both brothers watching her, waiting for her reaction. “I love it,” she whispered.
“Wait until you see the master bathroom,” Tony said, sounding relieved. “Joe designed this, too.”
A wide, smoked glass and wood sliding door was pushed aside, opening into an enormous bathroom with a walk-in shower, Jacuzzi tub, and a spacious counter with his and her sinks.
“This carries over the theme of the bedroom,” Joe explained. “Again, keeping it light and bright. We’ll put tiled flooring in here. Click forward, Tony. This door here opens into your walk-in closet with another door that takes you back into the bedroom.”
“Holy Crap!” Collette slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Can I say that on TV?” She looked over at Veronica who gave a ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture with her hands. Curtis was grinning.
Collette nudged Willa again. “That closet is almost the size of my bedroom. I am so jealous.”
Tony laughed. “If either of you are anything like our sister, Sylvie, even this is probably still too small.”
“I don’t have that many clothes,” Willa said. “This is more than I need.”