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“Working on it.” She wondered if the local banker would even talk to her. Doreen carried a lot of weight in town. But the Duncan name still stood for something. At least Cari had that. That and about two nickels to rub together.
Rick looked up and down the alley then back up at her. “Well, maybe it’ll work out for you. What about your business? What kind of establishment will this be? And what exactly is shabby-chic?”
That was a subject she could talk about for hours. “I design jewelry. I take old estate jewelry and rework it then resell it. I also carry unique women’s clothing and I fix up picture frames and jewelry boxes, trinkets—I like to take old things and make them pretty again. Sometimes I redesign tote bags and purses.”
“Purses?” He grinned up at her again. “Maybe you can make one to go with those red shoes in my window.”
“I told you, I can’t afford those shoes.”
He pushed off the steps. “Nobody can. My mother ordered them at market on an impulse and now they’re just sitting there waiting for the right feet—and the right amount of money. Maybe those pumps have been waiting for you. And something tells me you’ll work hard until you can afford them.”
Cari’s heart soared. It had been a while since anyone had expressed belief in her. A very long time. “You think so?”
He tipped a finger to his temple in salute. “If you can take on this old house then I’d say you can do anything.” Then he smiled and walked back toward the open double doors of the general store’s stockroom. But he turned and gave her a long, studied look. “Good to have you back. And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me, okay, Princess?”
“Thanks.” Cari watched him go back inside then looked up at the mountain vista just beyond town. The Blue Ridge Mountains had always brought her peace. Even while she’d lived in Athens and later in Atlanta, she’d often come up here to the mountains just to get away. Of course, she’d never come back here to Knotwood Mountain, but there were other spots nearby she loved, where the rhododendrons bloomed in bright whites and pinks and grew six feet tall. She stood listening and silent, the sound of the river gurgling through the middle of town continuing to bring her a sense of peace and comfort.
“Can I do this, Lord?” she asked. Had she made the right decision, leaving Atlanta to come home? What choice did she have? she wondered.
After all, this old house was all she had now.
She’d pretty much wasted away her bank account and she’d maxed out her charge cards. All in the name of looking good, looking up-to-date and in style while trying to keep up with a man who never intended to settle down and marry her. All in the name of a facade that could never quite fill the void inside her heart.
Turning to head back inside, she thought about the red shoes and all they represented. Once, she would have marched inside the store and bought them without giving it a second thought. Just to make herself feel better.
Looking over at the general store, she whispered, “Sorry, Rick, but I’m not a princess anymore.”
Once, when she’d been frivolous and impulsive and careless, she would have spent money she didn’t have. But that Cari was gone, just like the passive, shy Cari from high school. This new, more assertive Cari was going to have to reinvent herself, one step at a time and on her own two feet.
Only this time, she wouldn’t be wearing fabulous shoes or be hiding behind a carefully controlled facade when she did it.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Cari opened the door to Jolena’s Diner and smiled at her friend. “Hello.”
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Jolena, big, black and beautiful, said with a white, toothy grin, reaching to give Cari a tight hug. “How was your first day home, suga’?”
Cari sat down on one of the bright red stools at the long white counter. “Different.” She’d managed to get the kitchen clean enough to boil water and make toast and she’d slept on an air mattress in a small room upstairs. “I cleaned all day and unpacked enough clothes and essentials to get me through for a while. I’m going to pick up a few groceries and toiletry items. And I’m praying the bathroom upstairs will stay in working order until I can have a plumber check the whole place.”
Jolena looked doubtful. “You could have stayed with us, you know.”
Cari took the coffee Jolena automatically handed her, the hustle and bustle of this bright, popular diner making her feel alive. The smell of bacon and eggs reminded her she hadn’t eaten much since early yesterday. The buzz of conversation reminded her how lonely and isolated she’d become in the past few weeks. But Jolena’s smile held Cari together.
“I appreciate the offer, but I didn’t want to put your girls out of their bedrooms.”
Jolena grunted. “Those four—honey, they’re always in each other’s way so one more wouldn’t even be noticed. Even a cute one with freckles like you.”
“I did just fine on my own last night,” Cari said. Never mind that she hadn’t actually slept very much. But the moonlight coming through the old sheers in the room had given her a sense of security at least. “I have a bed and I scrubbed the kitchen and the storage room yesterday. Of course, I need a new stove and a refrigerator. That ice chest isn’t going to work in this summer heat.”
Jolena nodded. “I can hook you up with my friend down at the appliance store. He’ll make you a deal.”
Cari laughed at the woman who’d been friends with her mother, Natalie, since they were both little girls. Finding pen and paper, she wrote down the name and number. “You always have connections.”
Jolena let out a belly laugh then waved to two departing fishermen. “Yes, I sure do. And speaking of that—you need a makeover, honey. You look a little peaked.”
Cari pushed at her hair. “I guess I do look bad, but I wasn’t too concerned with my appearance this morning. I don’t have any groceries yet and I just needed coffee, badly.”
“And so do I,” said a masculine voice behind her.
Cari pivoted so fast she almost fell off her perch. “Rick, good morning.” Pushing at her hair again, she wished she’d at least bothered to put on lipstick.
Jolena leaned over the counter, her long thin braids tapping her robust shoulders. “Rick, you remember our Cari, don’t you?”
Rick sat down next to Cari and took the cup of coffee a waitress brought him. “I do now. Didn’t at first but we talked a bit yesterday afternoon. Good to see you again, Cari. Hope you had a good first night home.”
“It was okay,” she said, the warmth of his dark blue eyes washing over her. Could it be possible that he had matured into an even better looking man than the boy she remembered? Highly possible.
Jolena’s gaze shifted from Rick to Cari, her grin growing with each blink. “You two went to school together, right?”
Cari felt the crimson moving over her freckles. “Yes, we did but Rick was the big man on campus. He…we…didn’t hang out together too much.”
“And that’s a shame,” Rick replied, winking at Cari. “But high school’s always hard, you know. I’m sure we’ve both changed since those days.”
When Jolena’s overly interested eyebrows shot up, Cari slumped on her stool, wishing she could just dive under the counter. Did the man know the effect he had on women? Or did he just do this to her? She felt all mushy and soft-kneed. Which was just plain crazy. She wasn’t in high school anymore. And she had changed. She didn’t trust pretty boys anymore and she sure didn’t indulge in adolescent crushes these days.
Finally, because he was still smiling at her, she said, “So why’d you come back to Knotwood Mountain, Rick?”
The smile softened and his rich blue eyes went black. “That’s a long story and, unfortunately, I don’t have time to tell it right now. I’ve got people waiting to rent tubes for the day.” He got up, took his to-go cup of coffee and lifted it toward Jolena. “Put it on my tab.” Then he turned to Cari. “I’ll see you around, neighbor.”
Cari waited until she heard the screen door slap back on its hinges then looked at Jolena. “What? Did I ask the wrong question?”
Jolena, known as much for her gossip as her soul food, leaned close, her dimples deepening. “I heard it had something to do with a bad breakup. I think the man was heartbroken and hurting when he came limping into town. But he’s good now, real good. And real available.”
Cari almost spit out her sip of coffee. “Yes, so available that he practically ran out of here. If he can’t talk about her, then he ain’t over her.”
“He might get over her better if he had someone sweet to talk to, know what I mean?”
“I do know what you mean, but I’m not here to find a man, Jolena. Just like Rick there, I, too, went through a bad breakup—with the man and with my money that the man took.” She pointed across the street. “You see that wilted wedding cake of a house sitting over there. I’m here to fix that house up and get my boutique going. That’s about all I have any time or energy for. And I don’t want a man standing around telling me what to do and making me feel guilty about everything from the shoes I wear to the friends I have. I want to do this my way.”
Jolena wasn’t to be hushed. “You got a point there, honey. But you need to take time to be friendly to the other merchants along the street. We stick together around here. You’ll see. Don’t be all mean and stand-offish with Rick Adams. You might need a friend, too. But that attitude will surely scare people away.”
Cari couldn’t deny that she needed to make a connection. But with Rick? Friend and neighboring merchant, maybe. But that would have to be it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know more about him—just so she’d know what not to ask him next time she saw him.
“Okay, so he is good-looking,” she admitted on a low whisper. “It won’t be very hard to be nice to him. But that’s as far as it goes.”
Jolena made an exaggerated frown. “Girl, that man is so pretty, well, as my mama used to say, you could spoon him up like sugar.”
Cari had to laugh. “Your mama would tell you to put your big brown eyes right back inside your head, too, if she were here—since you’re married and have four children.”
“You are so right,” Jolena said, waving a glitter-nailed finger in Cari’s face. “But what’s your excuse, honey? Beside thinking all men are the scum of the earth, I mean?”
Cari frowned right back at her friend. “Me? I am not the least bit interested, especially in someone like Rick Adams. From what I remember back in high school, he had a new girl on his arm every Friday night.”
“This ain’t high school, girl, and you’ve changed since then. Maybe he has, too. He said as much himself.” Jolena fluffed her heavy reddish-brown weave, her words echoing Cari’s own earlier thoughts. “His mother is a good Christian woman, you know. Gives to the local food bank and works there, too. Helps out with the youth at church just about every Sunday night. And my mama says Rick has settled down, changed his wild ways since his father passed.”
That caught Cari’s attention. Had Rick had father issues just like her? “Tell me more,” she said, smiling over at Jolena. “And while you’re at it, can I have a short-stack with fresh strawberries?”
Jolena was more than happy to oblige.
Rick Adams. The second son of the late Lazaro Adams and widow Gayle Miller Adams. After her husband’s death, Gayle Adams had turned her husband’s Western and outfitter store into a haven for artists and craftsmen, including herself and her oldest son Simon. Then she’d put in a women’s clothing department on the second floor. According to Jolena, the big old store had struggled after Mr. Adams had died, but now her good-looking second son was back from the big city and working hard in the family business.
Wonder what the whole story there is, Cari mused as she waited for Jolena to ring up a customer. She knew why she’d come home, but Rick? Could a woman have messed him up that badly? From what she’d heard from Jolena, he’d had it made in Atlanta. Big-time marketing guru, all-around business tycoon, etc. While she’d been mostly miserable and alienated from her father, and definitely messed up from too many bad relationships. But maybe being successful didn’t help in the love department. It sure hadn’t helped ease her misery and unhappiness.
“So that’s supposed to make me sit up and take notice?” Cari asked when Jolena came back. “Just because he’s successful in business does not mean he’s ready for a relationship, especially if he’s been burned before. And we can’t know if he’s changed from high school. Some people change, some people don’t.”
“You gotta have faith, honey,” Jolena said, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t I told you, if you turn it over to the Lord—”
“The Lord will turn it all to good,” Cari finished, her voice low so she wouldn’t attract attention. “Well, you know how I feel about that. The Lord hasn’t provided me with the answers I need lately. Not since the day Doreen Stillman and her two spoiled children walked into my father’s house.”
Jolena’s dark face turned serious and somber as the conversation shifted to the subject Cari couldn’t get off her mind. “Cari, honey, it’s been over eight years and your father has left this earth. You need to make peace with what happened. And with what didn’t happen.”
Cari shook her head, causing sprigs of curling strawberry-blond hair to fall around her face. “I can’t do that, Jolena. I barely got to visit him when he was ill, and that’s because of Doreen’s hovering over him. He never once told me he’d forgiven me. And I prayed for that every day. I tried to tell him that I loved him, but I think it was too late. He was too sick to understand.”
“I know things were rough,” Jolena said, her sequined mauve sundress flashing with each wave of her hand. “Prayer is good but wanting to get back at your stepmother even after the man is dead and gone is not so good. Eight years is a long time to hold that kind of grudge, honey.”
“The woman used my father.”
“You think. You haven’t seen anything to indicate that and she did stick around for all those years you were gone, remember?”
Cari cringed but held firm. “I lived with them before he kicked me out. I saw her in action. She married him for one reason. She wanted his money. And now, she has it.”
Jolena twirled a plump dark ringlet. “She might have his estate, but if what you say is true that woman will pay her dues one day, mark my words. I just don’t want you to be the one who gets hurt all over again trying to see that she does.”
“I understand,” Cari said, the words a low growl, her fork stuck to a fluffy chunk of pancake. “But my mother had only been dead three months when Doreen moved in on my still-grieving father. I became a stranger in my own home, and she somehow alienated my father from me to the point that he practically threw me out on the street. I left before that happened but things sure went downhill from there.”
Jolena’s dark eyes filled with understanding. “So you made a few mistakes, did some things you’re not proud of. We’ve all been there, suga’. But look at you now.”
“Yes, look at me,” Cari replied, her voice shaking in spite of her stiff-necked pride. “I don’t exist anymore, Jolena. I didn’t exist to my father and we lost precious time. Now I have to do something to honor him. Renovating this house will do that. And give me something solid to focus on, at least.”
Jolena grabbed Cari’s hand and held it in hers. “I understand you’re in pain, you’re hurting, baby. But I promised your dear mother that I would watch over you. I can’t do that if you keep insisting on giving me the slip and going off to do foolish things.”
“You mean, like trying to confront Doreen?”
“Exactly,” Jolena said through a sigh. “I like it better when you’re positive and purposeful. You know the Lord wants you to have a purpose.”
Cari laughed at that. “A purpose is one thing, but not having the funds to make purposeful things happen is another.”
“Are you going to the bank?”
“Yes, in a couple of days. I have to get everything together and ply my case.”
Jolena put her hands underneath her chin and smiled over at Cari. “Eat your pancakes and let me do the worrying. You want that old house to shine? Well, you can’t do that all on your own. Just let Jolena here do some thinking. I might have an idea to help you out.”
Cari was afraid to ask what that idea was, but knowing Jolena, it would be big and bold. And it would probably involve a certain handsome businessman, too. Jolena never tired of matchmaking and being bossy for a good cause.
Could she allow that to happen? Could she become a true part of the town she’d fled all those years ago? Could she ask for help, knowing that Doreen now held the upper hand? If Cari wanted her business to work, she’d have to learn to be more decisive and assertive instead of hanging back in the shadows. That would be the only sure way to get even with Doreen, to prove the woman wrong. She’d have to work at getting to know people she’d long ago forgotten. And that might mean being civil to a woman she detested. And becoming close to a man she’d never really forgotten. Fat chance of anything other than friendship with Rick Adams, however.
She needed to find the strength to stand on her own two feet, once and for all. Self-control and fortitude—that was what she needed now. And if that meant being nice to her neighbors, including Doreen Duncan, and working for the good of this beautiful little village, then she could do that, too. Her father had left her this house for a reason. It was time Cari tried to figure out that reason.
She’d play nice with the community leaders and she’d work hard to make a go of her business. She knew how to do that, at least.
And one day maybe she could finally be proud and self-assured enough to accept that in his own stubborn way her father might have loved her and believed in her after all.
Chapter Three
Armed with a cheeseburger for lunch, Cari headed back to the house to get busy. She had to call the contractor she’d hired and find out when he could start the renovations, that is, if he could give her a good quote. Then she wanted to call the phone company to get a landline for the boutique. Eventually, she’d need a computer for both the cash register and for placing orders. She’d also need to rebuild her Web site with the new location. But for now, her old laptop would have to do for some of that.
If she could get the bottom floor repaired and updated over the next few weeks and generate some revenue, she’d worry about the upstairs later. She’d read up on renovating old homes and all the advice said to take it one room at a time, starting with the most urgent ones. Maybe she could save some money by starting the preliminary work herself and leave the hard stuff to the contractor.
Doreen had left several pieces of antique furniture scattered throughout the house. The woman didn’t know a thing about high-quality furniture but that would work to Cari’s advantage now. She’d dusted and polished the old Queen Anne buffet she’d found in the parlor. That would make a nice display table and she could use the drawers to store jewelry and small items such as scarves and belts.
There was an old four-poster oak bed upstairs. It was rickety and needed some tender loving care, but it would be a jewel when Cari refinished it. She’d put it in the turret room and make it her own. With the few other pieces she’d found, she had enough to do some sparse decorating.
“Well, I’d say the kitchen and bathroom down here are both really urgent.” But they were both clean now and she had the callused, rough hands to prove it. The bathroom was in fairly good working order, but it needed new fixtures and, well, new everything.
She put the cheeseburger bag on the now clean but chipped linoleum counter then turned to admire her handiwork in the old kitchen. The rickety white table and chairs had been scrubbed and looked halfway decent, but the old cabinets needed to be completely redone. They were high and big with plenty of good storage space. That was a plus. She’d gone through them and wiped them down then placed shelf liners in each one. She had a few mismatched dishes she’d unpacked and her coffeepot. Fresh daisies in a Mason jar made the old white table seem almost happy.
Some groceries would help. And a refrigerator. Standing in the long wide kitchen, she called the man Jolena had suggested. He immediately gave her some quotes on various sizes and styles. Cari thanked him and told him she’d be out to look this afternoon. Having taken care of that, she surveyed the kitchen again, memories washing over her with a gentleness that reminded her of her mother.
The room was long and wide and filled with windows that had once looked out over a vast backyard that ran all the way down to the nearby river. That backyard had been sold in increments as First Street commercialism had continued to grow right into the old suburban Victorian neighborhood built along the Chattahoochee River.
Duncan House was one of the few remaining original homes built here at the turn of the century. Most of them has been razed or renovated beyond recognition to make way for progress. And while Cari was thankful that her small town was now a tourist mecca, she sure wanted to bring back some of that Victorian charm that had once colored the place.
“Starting with Duncan House.”
Maybe she’d update the kitchen to make it functional for events and turn it into a nice sitting area for customers. She could bring over some cookies and pies from Jolena’s Diner and serve them with coffee and tea from the old antique sideboard shoved up against one wall. Just like her mother used to do when they’d invited company over for Sunday dinner.
“And where will I get the money for that?” she wondered, thinking she only had a few thousand in her bank account and her one remaining charge card was for emergencies only. Getting a bank loan scared her silly since her credit history wasn’t the best, but she had to try.
Determination and the financial budget she’d worked so hard to create and maintain over the past couple of years driving her on, Cari put away her bag and decided, now that she’d cleared and cleaned the downstairs open area, she’d give the bathroom one more thorough cleaning. She could then tackle the upstairs again, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.
First on the list would be to make sure the stairs were safe. They’d seemed a bit wobbly yesterday when she’d ventured up to see her turret room. That was another thing on the list—the turret room was intact but dirty and waterlogged from broken windowpanes. The pigeons seemed to love to roost there, too.
“Too bad about that.”
She remembered the room when it had been all bright whites and feminine blues and yellows, with a tiny little table and chairs and a real porcelain tea set where she’d entertained her dolls and, sometimes, her father and mother, too. Cari had clopped around in a big hat and a pair of feather-encrusted plastic high heels, a princess content in her own skin. And very innocent and naive in her security.
“Too bad about that, too.”
