by Sophia Renny
Whomp!
Damn Tony Rossetti for telling Willa about Julia. For killing the fragile seed of a dream Willa had only just acknowledged to herself today.
Whomp!
Damn Joe Rossetti for holding her hand that way. For treating her with a kindness and tenderness she had never known. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
Whomp!
And damn herself for allowing herself to fall under his spell.
“Willa.”
A hand pressed against her shoulder.
She spun around, the sledgehammer falling from fingers that had gone numb.
Tony jumped backwards, the sledgehammer missing his foot by inches. “Hey, now. Watch it there.”
He kept a grin on his face as he slanted a quick look at the cameraman and then back to Willa. But the grin didn’t reach his eyes; they were filled with worry. “You need to take it easy, Willa. You’re going to injure yourself.”
Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths. She wiped a hand across her forehead, feeling the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her skin. “You asked me to take out this wall,” she pointed out to him.
“Yeah. And you’re doing a fantastic job. But why don’t we let one of my guys take over now? I need to show you something in the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
As she followed him down the hall, she was startled to see how much of the interior had been torn out already. The interior living room wall was down, the carpets were ripped up. Workers were knocking out the tile in the bathroom and laundry room.
Joe was in the kitchen with Collette. They were both covered in plaster dust. Collette looked like a squat mushroom next to Joe’s muscular physique. Safety goggles covered half her face. Her silvery blond hair was sticking up in comical angles. She was grinning from ear to ear.
“Isn’t this fun?” she crowed. “Joe was telling me I could be a permanent member of his crew. Wait until the girls hear that!”
Willa pulled off her own goggles. She brushed a hand through her hair.
“We should’ve given you a hat to wear,” Joe muttered.
She looked at him. “I was going to wash it tonight anyway.”
For a moment, so brief she almost missed it, she saw a flash of heat in his gaze before his eyes went flat and distant. His voice was cool and professional as he directed her attention to the wall unit. “I have good news for you, Willa. We were able to detach this from the studs without doing any significant damage. Before we go any further, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to keep this as one piece. There isn’t anywhere we can put it in the house. But, maybe you’d like it in your garage? I’d have to build an enclosure for it, of course.”
“Why? I don’t need a cabinet in the garage.”
“Storage?”
“This wood is too pretty to be in a garage.” She felt a familiar anxiety rising to the surface. “You said you’d make something out of the material.”
“Yes, I did. I just wanted to check with you first.”
“That’s what I want. I want you to make something that will keep my aunt in this room. Like you said you would.”
“And I will.” The gentle patience was back in his voice again. But his expression remained obscure.
Willa simply stared at him. She couldn’t find any more words to say.
Tony moved forward. “Well, it looks like we’ve answered that question. Let’s get out of the way now and let the crew haul this outside. Willa, do you want to help me rip out the carpet in the upstairs bedrooms?”
Willa chose to stay for the day, although Veronica told her she didn’t have to. But if Willa needed to be available anyway in case the guys needed to point something else out to her, she might as well keep busy. Better that than to crawl into her bed and pull the covers over her head.
She didn’t talk much, only to respond to Tony or one of the crew when they showed her how to do something. Collette’s upbeat chatter filled the voids. Willa envied the older woman’s ease as she bantered back and forth with the entire work crew, just as if she were one of the guys. Amidst the joking and laughter, her voice rang out with frequent “get outta here’s”, “that’s what I’m talking about’s”, and “stop. You’re killing me’s”.
But every now and then, Collette would send a questioning look Willa’s way, her eyes expressing concern.
Finally, at four o’clock on the nose, Veronica called an end to the shoot. The television crew packed up, but the construction crew remained. Tony told Willa he was determined to get the place completely gutted before they left for the day.
“We still have a couple of hours of work here,” he told her and Collette as he walked them to the door. Joe was nowhere in sight. “It’ll be a few days before we’ll be back. We’re at a critical phase with the North Providence project. It could be Friday, but most likely Monday.”
Collette reached up to give him a quick hug. “I haven’t had so much fun in a long time. Thanks for letting me help out.”
Tony grinned. “The work seemed to go a lot faster with you here, Collette. I think half my crew’s already in love with you.”
Collette glowed.
He turned to Willa, started to hold out his hand, but then bent forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. “Thanks for hearing me out this morning,” he whispered in her ear. “I know today was rough. It’ll get better.”
Willa gave him an awkward pat on the back, her body stiff. “I’m fine.”
She stepped back. With a beckoning nod to Collette, she walked out the door.
“What the heck was that all about?” Collette hissed as they walked across the yard.
“This morning Tony told me that Joe is engaged.”
“Get outta here.”
“He’s known her all his life. He asked her to marry him last Christmas.”
“Then why was he giving you those looks? A man who’s in love shouldn’t be giving another woman those kinds of looks.”
“I don’t know.”
They stopped at the bottom of the apartment steps. Collette turned to face Willa directly. Her expression was a mixture of anger and bewilderment. “Something’s not right here. I can feel it.”
“Maybe he was just being nice to me. He’s a kind man.”
Collette rolled her eyes. “Some of the looks I saw him give you weren’t about kindness, hon. Those were looks from a man who wants to drag you into his bed.”
Willa flushed.
Collette shook her head. “Something’s not right,” she said again. “I’m going to talk with the girls about it.”
“Please. Don’t waste your time.”
“Do you like him, Willa?”
“I do. But he’s an engaged man.”
“He’s not married yet.”
“I don’t condone cheating.”
Collette sighed. “I don’t either. Though my asshole ex didn’t have a problem with it. But, hon, if there’s something real there between you two, it’s better for all of you—including his fiancée—to discover it before, not after the wedding vows.”
“You make this sound like some grand passion. Maybe he was just flirting.”
Collette reached out and gave Willa a fierce hug. “I know what I saw, hon. Don’t give up on this just yet.”
That night, Willa woke up in tears, feelings of profound loss overwhelming her. These emotions had nothing to do with her father, nothing to do with regret over her lost childhood. She’d been dreaming about Joe. He’d been holding her hand, his head close to hers as he whispered something in her ear. She couldn’t remember what he said, but it had made her heart beat like crazy.
She didn’t understand why she should feel such powerful emotions for a man she’d only just met. A man she’d never had a private conversation with, other than that brief exchange at Tony’s car.
It simply wasn’t logical.
She swiped the bed sheet over her damp face, forcing the tears to stop. She practiced her deep breathing exerc
ises. In through the nose. Hold. Out through the mouth. Slowly.
Sleep eluded her.
Finally, she got of bed, threw a sweater over her cotton pajamas, and headed for the kitchen.
One cup of sugar. One cup of brown sugar. Blend in the butter, add one egg…
Think of what an amazing and wonderful challenge that would be, Audrey’s voice sang in her head.
Willa didn’t know a damn thing about running a business. What the hell was Audrey thinking?
Here’s a space next door with all the equipment already in place. It’s almost one hundred percent turnkey.
It was ridiculous. She wasn’t a people person. Not really. Okay, maybe she’d emerged from her shell a little…a lot…since January, thanks to the girls. But she’d never be a social butterfly. She could just see herself behind a bakery counter, stiffly counting out the cookies in a monotone as she placed them in a box.
Who said she’d have to be the one doing the actual selling? She could remain in the kitchen, researching, experimenting.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t have enough money to buy half a dozen bakeries if she wanted to, with just as many employees at each one.
Her father may have been tightfisted when doling out her monthly allowance, but he’d never stolen from her. Upon his death, she’d discovered that he’d invested her earnings wisely. Combined with the profits from the sale of his house and the smaller inheritance she’d received from her aunt’s estate, Willa could choose to not work for the remainder of her life.
But was that what she really wanted?
Fold in the flour. One teaspoon baking soda. One teaspoon salt.
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.