If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) Read Free

bedrooms up there. You
stayed there that time you came to visit. Do you remember?”
    “No. None of this
looks familiar to me yet. But I don’t remember it being so cluttered. I would
have remembered that much, I think.”
    Willa’s father had
been obsessively neat. It couldn’t have been like this that day before he’d
left for Europe; he wouldn’t have stayed the night otherwise.
    “Your aunt was
eighty-three years old. She wasn’t untidy. She just couldn’t keep up with
things these last couple of years. I came in twice a week to dust and vacuum.
After…” There was a slight catch in Collette’s voice. “After she passed, I
wasn’t comfortable touching her things. They belong to you now.”
    “You’ve been her
neighbor for a long time,” Willa said, keeping her tone neutral, uncomfortable
and unfamiliar with showing emotion.
    Collette paused
outside an open doorway. She pulled a tissue from her coat pocket and dabbed at
her eyes. She gave Willa a wobbly smile. “Twenty-five years. We moved next door
right after we got married. My ex-husband and me. Pauline took me under her
wing when I needed her advice. She was a wonderful lady.”
    Hesitantly, Willa
placed her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Thank you for being her friend and
for watching out for her. I… I wish I could have known her better than I did.”
    Collette wadded up
the tissue and stuffed it back in her coat pocket. She straightened her
shoulders and sniffed. “She never blamed you for that, Willa. It was that
brother of hers. Your father…  Ah, well, water under the bridge, she used to
say. Here’s her bedroom. I put fresh sheets on the bed this morning.”
    The bedroom was
almost as cluttered as the living room. There were clear, well-trod walkways
from the door to the bed and from the bed to the bathroom. The bed itself—a
wooden four-poster antique monstrosity—took up most of the floor space.
Matching nightstands, a dresser and a wardrobe occupied the remainder. The
walls were done in the same dark panels as the living room. Heavy drapes
blocked the one window.
    “I vaguely remember
this bed,” Willa said. “She would read me stories here sometimes. But the room
was different then. Lighter. Warmer.”
    “It was summertime.
She would’ve had the windows open.”
    Willa shivered.
“Did she…?” She couldn’t finish the question.
    “Pass away in here?
No. She was in the hospital. She had a stroke, but it was pneumonia that got
her at the last.”
    “You said there are
two bedrooms upstairs?”
    “Yes. But it’s too
chilly up there, hon. Those are just for the summertime.” Collette heaved a
deep sigh, her eyes scanning the room. “It is a little depressing in
here. The winter makes this house seem dark and cold. It was meant to be just a
summer cottage.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on.
I’ll make us a pot of tea. That’ll warm us up.”
    Willa glanced at
her watch. It was only six-thirty in the evening, but it felt much later. She’d
been up before dawn to catch a direct flight out of San Francisco.
    Her aunt’s home did feel dark and cold and it smelled musty. That only added to the tired,
depressed feelings that assailed Willa as she followed Collette into the
kitchen.
    The moment she
stepped into the kitchen, her spirits lifted. She remembered this room. She
remembered sitting in that breakfast nook in the corner while her aunt baked
delicious things. She remembered the pale blue appliances, the yellow linoleum
floor, the white cupboards and countertops, the pretty flowered curtains above
the porcelain sink. Taking up the entire width of the far wall was a massive
built-in cabinet. She guessed it was either oak or walnut. The lower portion
was split into four sections of drawers. Open shelving framed a center cupboard
in the upper portion; the cupboard had pretty stained glass doors.
    She’d enjoyed
spending time in this cozy room. She latched on to that memory, unaware