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But she intended to restore the room in those same sky-blues and sunshine-yellows, using a hydrangea theme since the old bushes out front were still intact and blooming to beat the band.
Hearing the front door squeak open, she wondered if the contractor was here already.
“Ye-hoo? Anybody home?”
Doreen. Cari gave herself a mental shake. She wouldn’t let that woman get to her. Taking a deep, calming breath, she called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Doreen came through the arched doorway to stop just inside the empty kitchen, her gaze sweeping the room with distaste. “I just had to come and see for myself if all the rumors I kept hearing were true.” Patting her bright red teased hair, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious, Cari.”
Cari prayed for patience. Putting her hands down beside her jeans so she wouldn’t use them to do physical harm, she lifted her eyebrows. “Serious? Oh, you mean about reopening Duncan House? Yes, I’m very serious.”
Doreen dropped her designer bag on the table. “I heard about it at the chamber of commerce meeting the other night and I just couldn’t believe my ears. I mean, I knew your father left this old place to you—why, I’ll never understand. But honestly, I expected you to call me, begging me to list it, just to get it off your hands.”
Cari couldn’t believe the audacity of this vile woman. “Why would I do that, Doreen? This is all I have left. You managed to get the rest.”
Score one for Cari. The woman bristled to the point of turning as red as her dyed hair. “Your father left everything to me because he knew you’d just squander it away. I mean, c’mon, now, Cari, you don’t actually think you can make a go of things in this old building, do you? The last tenant found out pretty quick that this place is way too far gone to run a business in. The utilities alone are over the top.”
“From what I heard, you charged the last tenant too much rent and made too many demands for him to keep his photography and frame business going. I heard he moved to a new strip mall out on I-75 and he’s doing great.”
“That obnoxious man—I was glad to be rid of him. Always calling wanting something fixed, something changed. Impossible to deal with.”
Doreen wouldn’t give an inch, Cari knew. So she didn’t try to argue with the woman. “I’m here to stay, Doreen. Get used to it.”
Doreen grabbed her purse. “We’ll see how long you last. You know, if you get desperate and want to sell, I’ll cut you a deal. I’d planned to have this place torn down and if we both play our cards right, that can still happen. I’ll be glad to take it off your hands and for a fair price, too.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Cari asked. “Especially since you didn’t take care of it when you were the landlord?”
“I had other priorities,” Doreen shot back, the crow’s feet around her eyes lined with too much concealer. “But now that your father is gone, well, I’m being a bit more aggressive in buying up more property.” She swept the room with a harsh glance. “This should have stayed mine anyway. But I’m willing to buy it back and then maybe you can get out from under that mound of debt you brought back with you. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t,” Cari said, seething underneath her calm. Buy it back? Over her dead body.
She waited until the annoying clicking sound of Doreen’s pumps had left the building then turned and ran out the back door to catch her breath. Leaning over the old railing, Cari felt sick to her stomach. Feeling tears of frustration she didn’t dare shed, she held her head down and stared at an efficient ant trail moving steadily along the crack in the steps.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
She looked up to find Rick standing there staring at her, his smile friendly, his eyes calm.
Cari inhaled a deep breath. “You mean out in the alley, while I’m having a hissy fit?”
“Is that what you’re having? I would have never guessed.” Even though he was smiling, she appreciated the concern in his eyes.
Cari shook her hair off her face. “The wicked stepmother just paid me a friendly visit. Offered to buy me out. Can you believe that after the way she let this place get all run-down?”
Rick could tell she was hanging on by a thread, so he decided to keep things light. “Interesting that she’d even suggest that. I saw her taking off on her broom a couple of minutes ago so you’re safe for now. If it’s any consolation, she looked madder than a wet hornet.”
“That does make me feel better,” Cari replied, her eyes brightening. “I shouldn’t let her get to me, but she does. She always has.”
He sat down on the steps. “Got a minute to chat?”
She looked back inside. “Sure, none of this is going anywhere soon. And if I don’t get a bank loan, it’s not going to change anytime soon.”
Rick understood she had a lot on her mind, but he needed to clarify something. “Look, Cari, about earlier at the diner when you asked me why I came back here?”
She put a hand over her eyes. “Oh, you mean when I was being completely nosy and out of line?”
“You weren’t out of line. Nosy, yes, but out of line, no. It’s just that I don’t like to talk about my reasons for coming home. It’s…complicated.”
She slapped him on the arm. “Tell me something I don’t know. I’m the queen of complicated homecomings.”
His expression relaxed as he let out a long sigh. “Seems we both came back here to prove something to somebody, maybe?”
“Now who’s being nosy?”
“Okay, I admit I’m wondering why you did come back and especially to such a challenging project?”
She put her head in her hands and stared down at her pink toenails. “My father left me this house. After our rocky relationship, that was enough reason for me.”
Rick knew right then and there that Cari Duncan was someone special. And he could certainly understand the concept of needing something to hold on to, some sort of validation from a loved one. “Well, my father left the general store to my mother and my brother and me and one of the reasons I came home was to make sure we kept the legacy of his hard work alive and thriving. My brother Simon is an introverted artist, a boot maker who lost his wife a few years back. He didn’t want anything to do with running a retail store and, honestly, he doesn’t have time. And my mom tried her best to keep things going but she was working herself into an early grave, just like my dad. I had to come home to help. And…I needed to get away from Atlanta. You know, that same old crowd—hard to shake.”
She didn’t respond at first. She just sat looking at her feet. Then she said, “Funny, I loved the crowds. I lived in Athens after college and then moved to Atlanta. I had a good job—a career, with my own boutique and employees who worked hard selling my designs and other brands. I was in an upscale part of town and I was making pretty good money. I partied and laughed and played and spent way too much money trying to keep up with the crowd, trying to live up to this image I had of myself. It caught up with me when I fell for the wrong man. He decided he liked my cash flow a lot more than he loved me. I carried him after he lost his job—bad idea. I went into debt trying to buy his love. But I got rid of the slacker boyfriend and I got help from this very strict financial advisor who put me on a tough budget. I’ve managed to pay off a lot of it and I’ve even saved a little bit—a first for me.”
“So you came home to start over.”
She looked up finally, her eyes glistening like muted turquoise glass. “Yes, and to fix the mistakes I made with my father. Only, it’s too late, I think.”
Rick looked around at the pines and oaks out beyond the honeysuckle vines lining the alley wall. A cool breeze moved over the oak trees and played through the wind chimes his mother had hung at the back door of the general store. “I’m sorry you lost your father, but if he left you this place then it has to mean something, right?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” she said. “And that’s what I want to figure out. Why did he leave me this house when he seemed so distant in life? Is that too weird?”
The little catch of doubt in her words held him. “Not weird at all. I think it’s rather noble to want to fix this place up, to honor your parents.”
“But foolish?”
“Nope. Just as long as you don’t let she-who-won’t-be-named get to you. That kind of distraction can derail you.”
She stood up, her hands on the splintered banister again. “That will be the biggest challenge.” Then she smiled down at him. “But thanks for explaining things to me about why you came back. I don’t think my reasons are nearly so clear-cut, but here I am.”
“I didn’t explain everything. There was a woman involved. She wanted more than I could give, so we parted ways. Took me a while to get my head straight. So just like you, here I am.”
“Who would have thunk it, huh?”
He got up, shaking his head. “I guess we’re the next generation.”
“I guess so. Knotwood Mountain has lots of potential. I never planned to leave here. I was just kind of driven away. And I thought I’d never be able to come back. But this opportunity came along at the right time.”
“And so now you’re back and you seem to have a lot of potential yourself,” he said before he could hold back. Then he turned to get back to work. Even a good distraction was still a distraction, after all. “I guess I’ll see you out here a lot, considering how I deal with women every day in the store and I have one very temperamental mother. I know how many hissy fits a woman can throw.”
“You got that right,” she said. “I’m pretty sure this won’t be my last one. I’m waiting to hear from the contractor then I’m going begging at the bank. If I can’t get a loan for an overhaul, I guess I’ll just fix up the downstairs and open for business. Start out small and work my way up, hopefully.”
Rick took in that bit of information. He had connections down at the bank, but Cari would be insulted if he offered his help. Still, he wanted to help. “Good luck,” he said, his mind spinning as he watched her head back inside.
Then his cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Rick, how you doing?”
“Jolena, what’s up?”
“I need to talk to you. About a mutual friend.”
“Oh, yeah, and who’s that?”
“Cari Duncan,” Jolena replied. “I’ve got a plan but I need your help.”
“Name it,” Rick said, wondering what Jolena had up her sleeve. And wondering why her timing always seemed to be just right.
When he heard her idea, he had to smile. This just might work and if it did, Cari would have to go along with it. She’d be crazy not to.
Chapter Four
Cari sat down with the bank officer, her palms sweaty, her breath held. Feeling the cool bump of the old leather chair against her legs, she waited for her fate, a sensation of ultimate doom sifting in her stomach. “So, Mr. Phillips, what’s the verdict?”
The older gray-haired man stared through his bifocals at her, his stern expression and apologetic discomfort shouting out the answer she already knew. Clearing his throat, he glanced down at the papers in front of him. “Well, young lady, you seem to have a long history here. Lots of credit problems.” He put the papers down and leaned back in his squeaky chair, the tuffs of peppered hair on the top of his head looking like twisted fence wire.
“Carinna, I have to be honest with you. It doesn’t look good. Especially in this economy. Any kind of business loan is risky these days, but this…well…the boutique idea is a good one and it worked for you in Atlanta, but while we always want to help new businesses here in Knotwood Mountain, financing a major renovation of that old house, well, that’s just not something we’re ready to do, I’m afraid.”
“But you’ve seen my business plan,” she said, ready to fight for herself. “It’s solid, based on my success in Atlanta. I’ve paid off most of my credit card debt and I even have some start-up money saved. I know it’s not much, but I’m willing to do a lot of the work myself to save money.”
“What about your projections? We need to be sure you can make your monthly payments.”
“My cash flow projections are low, but I did a conservative estimate on that. I fully expect business to pick up once I get some advertising out there. I’ll find a way to pay back the loan.” She hoped.
“All good points, but you don’t have anything for collateral. Or anyone willing to cosign on this.”
Cari didn’t like his condescending tone or the implication that she didn’t have another soul willing to take a risk on her. “I have the house sitting on a prime corner lot on First Street. That should be collateral enough.”
“Not in this day and time,” he replied, his ink pen thumping against his desk pad. “But you could probably sell it for a tidy sum and start over in some other location within the town. Your stepmother could help you there, I’m sure.”
Cari sat still, refusing to have a meltdown in front of this grumpy old man. She’d done her homework, learned all about small business loans, talked to her financial advisor about the risks. She’d even joined the Small Business Association and found lots of online tips. And there was the slight possibility of getting grant money if she registered the house as a historical landmark.
All of that aside, it seemed this man was going to be her biggest obstacle, because he controlled the purse strings. But, she reminded herself, he was just doing his job. “I understand, Mr. Phillips. And I was shocked at the amount the contractor quoted me on the renovations, too. What if I did a little bit at a time? I don’t have to do everything he’s suggesting. I can just get the bottom floor updated and in working order so I can open my boutique. If I have it up and running before the Fourth, I know I’ll clear enough to make the monthly loan payments as the year goes by. Christmas is always a good season here, too, with the winter tourists.”
“You can’t predict that,” he replied, taking off his glasses. “Look, I knew your father. He was a solid businessman—knew a good piece of real estate when he saw it. Maybe he left you Duncan House so you could sell the whole thing and turn a nice profit. It’s in an ideal location for a new business.”
“Just not the new business I’m proposing,” Cari replied, disappointment coloring her words.
“I’m afraid so. I can’t lend you money on your name alone, although the bank did take that into consideration.”
“But my good name just isn’t enough, is it?” she asked, her finger hitting the report in front of him. “I got myself into a financial mess. But I worked hard over the last couple of years to straighten things out. My business plan worked in Atlanta. I just let my personal finances get out of control.”
“It takes longer than a couple of years to clear up bad credit and you know it,” he retorted. “I do admire your fortitude, however.”
Cari stood, her fingers grasping the strap of her bag. “And I admire your complete and unwavering honesty. But I’m not going to give up on this. I came to you first because this is where my father did his banking. I’ll just try somewhere else.”
“You’ll have a tough row to hoe, Carinna. I wish you luck.”
Cari turned to leave, dignity and the Duncan name making her spine straight. Too bad she hadn’t considered coming to the bank before moving into the old house. But she wanted to live there, remodel or no remodel. She’d find a way to make this work, if she had to redo the house in square yard increments. And if she had to find a job somewhere else until she could get the boutique going.
She was on her way out the double doors when they swooshed open, the morning heat and sunshine warring with the sterile air-conditioning and doom and gloom of the annoying bank. Cari looked up and found herself blocked by Jolena and—
“Hi, Rick, what are you doing here?”
“He’s with me,” Jolena said, lifting a thumb toward Rick. “I mean, we’re together—here to see you.” She looked past Cari to Mr. Phillip’s office. “Let’s go back in and talk to the man, honey.”
“What?” Cari tried to protest, but Rick’s strong hand on her elbow stopped her. When he guided her back toward the big office, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“We have a plan,” Rick said, not bothering to slow down. “Just be quiet and listen.”
Not sure she liked being ordered around, even if he did look yummy and forceful in his white shirt and crisp jeans, Cari glanced from Jolena to Rick. “Jo, what’s about to happen?”
“You getting your loan approved,” Jolena replied, her dark eyes wide with intrigue and triumph. “Let Rick do the talking, okay?”
Cari didn’t have much choice. Rick was already shaking hands with Mr. Phillips. What were they going to do, hold a gun on the man and demand he give her some money? Not a half-bad idea, although that would look like bank robbery to all the other customers.
“This is…highly unusual,” Mr. Phillips said, his expression bordering on perturbed. “Rick, care to explain this unexpected visit?”
Rick directed Cari to a chair and gently pushed her down. “Yes, sir. Mrs. Beasley and I are here as concerned citizens of Knotwood Mountain. Since we’re both business owners on First Street and since Miss Duncan wants to renovate Duncan House and move her already successful business here, and since she is the daughter of one of the town’s most prominent citizens—now deceased—we’re here to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Both Cari and Mr. Phillips asked the same question. “Which is?”
Jolena grinned and nodded toward Rick. “Tell him, Rick. Go ahead.”
Rick pressed his hands onto the big desk, his knuckles splayed across the unfortunate report regarding Cari’s finances. “We want to cosign a loan for Cari Duncan.”
“What?” Cari gasped, shaking her head.
“Impossible,” Mr. Phillips retorted.
“Not so quick,” Rick said, finally sitting down to talk business. “Think about this. Jolena and I both have a vested interest in the upkeep of First Street, and let’s face it, Duncan House had been an eyesore for years now. While we appreciate that Cari’s father was ill for many of those years and that his wife, Doreen, did her best to run his real estate company, we couldn’t help but notice the second Mrs. Duncan tended to neglect Duncan House.”
He gave Cari an encouraging look. “It’s been vacant for over a year now and, well, it just doesn’t sit well with us that the house has become so unappealing and run-down.” He sat up, his tone going from conversational to serious. “It doesn’t sit well with the chamber of commerce or the city council either. And I’m sure it doesn’t impress the locals and the tourists, not at all. I get complaints on a daily basis.”
Mr. Phillips lifted a hand. “But—”
Rick went right on talking. “I’ve thought of buying the place myself, but you know I have my hands full with the general store. And Jolena has a good thing going with the diner, but her customers have to stare at that boarded-up old house all the time. And that’s a shame.”
“A real crying shame,” Jolena added, her chin bobbing.
“Why, just the other day, Mrs. Meadows asked me what we intended to do about that old house. And when I told her none other than little Cari Duncan herself, the daughter of James Duncan, was coming back to fix up the place, well, I can’t tell you how excited Mrs. Meadows was. She even said she’d get the Garden Club in on helping with the landscaping. Something about getting the place on the National Historic Registry, too. And you know she’s one of those Daughters of the Revolution—those women can sure stir up a stink when they want something done. And Mrs. Meadows really wants something done about Duncan House. But only if she knows someone is willing to invest in the renovations. And do them up proper, of course.”
