“Rick, you remember our Cari, don’t you?”

“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 the overly interested Jolena’s 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?

LENORA WORTH

has written more than forty books, most of those for Steeple Hill. She has worked freelance for a local magazine, where she wrote monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for the local paper for five years. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-five years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks, sit in her garden and go shoe shopping.

Hometown Princess
Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Commit to the Lord whatever you do,

and your plans will succeed.

—Proverbs 16:3

To my sister-in-law Kathy Baker

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

It was all about the shoes.

Carinna Clark Duncan stood in front of the store window, staring at the pair of red pumps winking at her through the glass. She wanted those shoes. But she couldn’t have them. Not now. Maybe not ever. Her days of extravagant shoe shopping were over. Lead me not to temptation, Lord.

She glanced around the quaint main street of Knotwood Mountain, Georgia, and then looked to her left at the old run-down turn-of-the-century Victorian house she’d inherited after her father’s death a month ago. Duncan House—that’s what her parents had called it. Now it had a dilapidated old sign that said Photography and Frames—Reasonable Prices hanging off one of the porch beams. Her childhood home had been reduced to a business rental, but the last renter had left in a hurry from what she’d been told by her father’s lawyer.

The house was the only part of James Duncan’s vast estate she’d received. The bitterness and pain rose up like bile inside her. But it wasn’t because she wanted the whole estate, even though some cold hard cash would be good right now. No, her deep-seated resentment and anger came from another source. And her prayers for release hadn’t worked.

This anger and jealousy was toward the woman who’d swooped in and wooed Cari’s still-grieving father into marrying her just months after Cari’s mother had died. That woman, Doreen Stillman, and her two children, had managed not only to fool Cari’s vulnerable father for the last few years; they’d also managed to turn him against his only daughter. The daughter who’d loved and adored him and still grieved for her mother and him so much it woke her up in tears in the middle of the night.

Once the apple of her doting father’s eye, Cari had soon become the outcast, the troublemaker who stood against Doreen. And Doreen made sure James Duncan knew this, made sure he heard all about how horribly Cari treated Doreen and her children. Even if it wasn’t true, even if she’d been the one who’d been mistreated, there was no way to convince her besotted, grief-stricken father. No way. And now it was too late to make amends with him. Cari only hoped she’d been able to get through to him enough before he died to make him understand that she loved him.

Staring at the shoes with a Monday morning moroseness, she thought it was pretty ironic that a pair of shoes had started the whole chain of events that had eventually caused Cari to fall out of her father’s good graces in the first place. Cari and her younger stepsister Bridget had been fighting over a pair of blue sandals. They belonged to Cari, but Bridget had insisted she wanted to borrow them. Cari had refused, saying Bridget was too young and her feet too long for the narrow, strappy shoes that Cari intended to wear to a party that night. But Doreen and Cari’s father had sided with Bridget. Cari had not only lost the shoes—Bridget never gave them back—she’d also lost a lot of respect for her father. And apparently, he’d lost respect for her, too. Things had gone from bad to worse after that. Her once storybook life had become miserable.

But he had left her the house.

That alone had sustained Cari after his death. He’d left her the one thing she remembered with happiness and joy—the house where she’d grown up with both her parents. It had been a loving, wonderful, faith-filled home back then, full of adventure and all the things a little girl loved, including a turret room. Cari used to pretend she was a princess; she’d dreamed big dreams in that round little room just off her bedroom on the right side of the two-story house. Now, the pretty memories faded and she was left staring at a harsh reality.

Doreen had immediately moved the family out to a big, modern house on the Chattahoochee River and convinced James to let the town rezone this house for commercial use. Only she’d neglected to take care of this particular piece of property. Doreen wouldn’t know a house with good bones if it fell on her.

The old house was still solid, but it needed a lot of cosmetic work, Cari thought. And so did she. Maybe she could make some sense of things, redoing this old place. Maybe. By leaving her the house, her father had given her a new lease on life. She once again had big dreams—for herself and for the house she had opened up earlier today. She planned to renovate it room by room. And she planned to open a quaint little boutique to showcase her jewelry and trinkets on the first floor. She could live on the second floor. It would be a great arrangement if she could make a go of it. Please, God, let me do this right.

But she did have another big problem. A definite lack of capital. She had to figure out a way to find the money to do everything she envisioned. From the research she’d done, a loan didn’t look possible.

She turned back to the shoes, a longing bursting through her heart. She was a material girl—or at least she used to be. She reminded herself that those days were gone and so she couldn’t afford the shoes. But she sure did admire them anyway.

Just keep on admiring, she told herself. And remember why you’re here. You have something else to focus on now besides shopping. You have a home.

Cari thanked God and thanked her father. Maybe this was his way of telling her he had loved her in spite of everything. And she knew in her heart God had never abandoned her, even if it had felt that way since she’d become an exile from Knotwood Mountain.

The sound of shifting gears caused her to turn around. The bright summer sun shone brightly on the battered old brown-and-white open Jeep pulling up to the curb. The man driving downshifted and cut the roaring engine then hopped out, heading toward where Cari stood in front of Adams General Store and Apparel.

“Go on in and try them on,” he said with a grin, motioning toward the shoes.

And Cari turned and faced another dream she’d forgotten. Rick Adams. In the flesh and looking too bright and way too good with the early-morning sunlight glinting across his auburn-brown curly hair. Did he remember her? Cari doubted it. He’d been a few years older and he’d run with a different crowd in high school. The fun football and cheerleader crowd. While she’d preferred reading sappy fiction on most Saturday nights and observing him from afar on most school days. The classic tale of the plain Jane wanting the handsome prince, with no happy ending in sight.

“Hi,” she said with a stiff smile. “I can’t try them on. I can’t afford them.” Honesty was her new policy.

He gave her a blue-eyed appraisal but she didn’t see recognition in that enticing stare. “Too bad. I think they’d fit you just right.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. And don’t tempt me. I’ve got to get going.” She didn’t give him time to talk her into trying on the gorgeous shoes. Cari hurried to the rambling house next door and quickly went inside.

“Did you see Cari out there?”

Rick looked up at his mother’s words, spoken from the second floor of Adams General Store and Apparel. Gayle was leaning over the timbered banister holding an armful of women’s T-shirts with the words I rode the river at Knotwood Mountain emblazed across them, grinning down at her son.

“Cari? Cari who?”

“Cari Duncan. I thought I saw you talking to her.”

Rick glanced outside then back up at his mom. “That pretty strawberry-blonde looking at the red shoes in the window? That was shy little Cari Duncan?”

“That’s her—back home and about to open up her own shop right next door in the old Duncan House, according to Jolena.” Gayle put the shirts on a nearby rack and came down the stairs. “Jolena told me all about it when I went by the diner this morning.”

Rick looked up at his mother, his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

Gayle let out a chuckle. “Maybe because you missed the chamber of commerce meeting last night—again. Everyone was talking about it, Jolena said. And apparently, Doreen was fit to be tied because she planned to sell the house and turn a tidy profit on that corner lot.”

Rick groaned. “I completely forgot the meeting. I had to get all this fishing gear and our rafts and floats ready for the summer crowds.” He couldn’t believe he’d just talked to Cari and hadn’t even realized it was her. “Well, I’m glad someone’s taking over the old place. It’s an eyesore and last time I did attend a meeting, everyone on First Street agreed something needed to be done about it.”

Gayle busied herself with straightening the bait-and-tackle rack by the cash register. “Doreen didn’t worry about the upkeep on the place. I’m sure she’s unhappy that it no longer belongs to her.” She pursed her lips. “You know, that’s all Cari got from the inheritance.”

“You’re kidding?” Rick went back to the window. “Her father owned half the property in town and she got stuck with that old house. That building needs to be overhauled. It’s gone to ruin since the last tenant left.”

“Doreen kicked the last tenant out,” Gayle replied as she poured him a cup of coffee off the stove at the back of the store. “She’s not an easy landlady from what I’ve heard.”

“Then she probably wasn’t an easy stepmother either,” Rick countered. “I hope Cari can stand up to the woman. She was always so passive and shy in high school.” Not that he hadn’t noticed her pretty turquoise eyes and nice smile back then. But that was about as far as Rick had ever gotten with Cari. His girlfriend hadn’t liked him being kind to a girl she considered “a boring little spoiled princess.”

The girlfriend was long gone, and well…Cari was back and right next door, and she didn’t look boring at all. The hometown princess was all grown-up. He’d have to go and visit her, apologize for not recognizing her.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know it was her,” he said to his mother. “She’s changed.”

“Yes, lost weight and cut her hair. She’s downright spunky-looking now,” Gayle said as she grabbed one of Jolena’s famous cinnamon rolls and headed back up to the women’s department of the sprawling store. “And she’ll need to be spunky if she intends to renovate that place. We’ll have to offer her some help. Be neighborly.”

Rick grinned then headed to the stockroom. He’d have to be neighborly another day. He had lots to do today. Only a few weeks until the Fourth of July and the flood of tourists who’d come to Knotwood Mountain to camp, fish, swim and go tubing and rafting on the nearby Chattahoochee River. And hopefully shop at Adams General Store and Apparel for all their outfitter needs.

They’d made this store a nice place since he’d come back five years ago. His mother had taken over the top floor for her women’s apparel, knickknacks, souvenirs and artwork and he had the bottom floor for more manly stuff like rafting and fishing gear, rugged outdoor clothes and shoes and cowboy and work boots. And since his older brother Simon designed handmade cowboy boots in a studio just outside of town on their small ranch, Rick also had the pleasure of selling his brother’s popular boots both retail and online. A nice setup and, finally, one that was seeing a profit. He wished his father was still alive to see how he’d turned the old family store into a tourist attraction.

But…wishes didn’t get the work done, so he went into the stockroom and headed to the back alley, intent on unloading and inventorying stock in between customers for the rest of the day.

First, he had to gather the empty boxes from yesterday and take them out to the recycling bin before the truck came cruising through. Always something to do around this place, that was for sure. But Rick liked the nice steady work and the casual atmosphere. It sure beat his hectic, stressful lifestyle back in Atlanta.

He’d put all of that behind him now. He’d come home.

He stopped at the trash dump and stared at the leaning back porch of Cari’s place, wondering what had brought her back. Surely not just this old Victorian diamond in the rough.

He was about to turn and head back inside when the door of the house creaked open and he heard a feminine voice shouting, “Shoo, get out of here.”

Out swooped a pigeon, flapping its wings as it lifted into the air.

The woman stood on the porch with her hands on her hips, smiling up at the terrified bird. “And don’t come back. I’m the only squatter allowed on these premises now.”

Rick let out a hoot of laughter. “Poor little pigeon.”

Cari whirled, mortified that Rick had heard her fussing at the innocent pigeon. “Oh, hi. Sorry but it was either him or me. He’s made a mess of what used to be a storage room, I think. And I’m pretty sure he’s had a few feathered friends over for some wild parties, too. First thing on my list—fix that broken window-pane.”

Rick strolled over toward the porch then looked up at her. “Cari,” he said, his smile sharp enough to burn away all the cobwebs she had yet to clear out of the first floor. “You’ve changed.”

Cari pushed at her shaggy, damp hair. This pleasant morning was fast turning into a hot afternoon. “Same old me,” she said, wondering if he was even taller now. “I figured you didn’t recognize me, though.” And he’d aged to perfection, curly brown hair, crinkling, laughing eyes.

“No, sorry I didn’t. But it’s sure nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”

She leaned on the rickety old railing, the sound of the river gurgling over the nearby rocks soothing her frazzled mind. “Yep. Last time I saw you, you were off to Georgia Tech with a cheerleader on your arm. How’d that go for you?”

He shook his head, looked down at his work boots. “Not too well at first. I partied more than I studied and the cheerleader found her one true love—it wasn’t me. Just about flunked out. My old man didn’t appreciate my lack of commitment, let me tell you. But I finally got things together and pulled through.”

Cari nodded, noting the darkening in his eyes when he mentioned his father. “I did the same thing—didn’t party too much, just didn’t much care. I did flunk out at the University of Georgia. But I eventually went back and studied design and got a major in business. Little good that did me, however.” She didn’t want to elaborate and she hoped he wouldn’t ask her to.

He didn’t. Instead he looked off into the ridge of mountains to the west. “But here you are, about to open a business right here in Knotwood Mountain.” He moved a little closer, one booted foot on the battered steps. “What’s the plan, anyway?”

Cari eyed the old porch and the broken steps. “The plan is to get this house back the way I remember it.” Except it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. “Why is it when a house is shut down it seems to wither and die?”

Rick lifted his gaze to the dormer windows and the gabled roof. “I guess because houses are a lot like people. They need to be needed.”

Surprised that he’d turned all mushy about things, she decided to stick to a safer conversation. “I’ve got my things stored in Atlanta but I’m bringing them here in a few days. All the inventory left over from the shop I had there. And I want to order lots of other things. It’ll take a while to get it going, but I think with the tourist traffic I might be able to make it work. I checked around and Knotwood Mountain doesn’t have a shabby-chic boutique.”

He squinted up at her. “That’s a mighty big plan.”

“Yes, it is. And I have a mighty tiny budget.”

“You been to the bank for a loan?”

“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.”

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.”

“But—”

Rick went in for the kill. “No buts, just a good solid plan to keep First Street pristine and tourist-ready. That’s why we’re here, Mr. Phillips. To do our civic duty.”

Cari tried to speak. “But—”

“No buts,” Jolena said, elbowing her in the ribs. “Work with us here, suga’.”

“I can’t let y’all do this,” Cari said, trying to stand. Two strong hands grabbed her and put her back in her place.

“Yes, you can,” Rick replied. “Because we’re not actually doing this for you—although we like you and we’re glad you’re back. It’s for the overall good of this community.” He winked at her then turned back to Mr. Phillips. “I’d hate to have to take this matter before the city council later this month. You know how revved up those good old boys can get when they think we’re losing tourist dollars.”

Mr. Phillips looked like a whipped puppy. “This is highly unusual and a bit unorthodox.”

Jolena let out a bubbling giggle. “It’s all about a good cause, Mr. Phillips. Just think what a glowing report we could give for the bank, knowing that you took a risk on a hometown girl and her dreams? Her daddy would be so proud. And I’m sure it will make a favorable impression on others who might want to do business with you.”

Rick nodded. “Cari gets the loan and we both cosign as collateral. If things don’t work out and she can’t pay, Jolena and I will take over the payments and co-own the property then we’ll decide what to do with it. How’s that for a solid plan?”

“I just don’t know,” Mr. Phillips said.

But Cari could see the wheels spinning in his head. The man knew he was sitting across from two prominent members of the community, two people with a lot of pull and power. Two people with determined looks and a lot of name-dropping to back those looks. As surprised and shocked as she was, Cari was glad to have them in her corner. Not sure if she should be thankful or full of denial and refusal, she had to speak up.

“I can’t allow this,” she said. “I just can’t.”

“You don’t have any other choice,” Mr. Phillips said. “If these two are willing to take the risk then I guess I’m willing to loan you the money. But not the whole amount, Cari. I’ll give you fifty thousand to get you started—that’s half, and that’s generous for a small-business loan. If you fail, your friends here will be out twenty-five thousand each. Unless you can find a way to salvage this crazy plan.”

Cari couldn’t breathe. She’d just gone from being broke and with no hope to having money and a lot of new hope. But it would mean she owed Jolena a great deal. And Rick Adams, too.

Was she so pathetic that the best-looking man in town felt sorry for her? Sorry enough to float her a loan? That didn’t make a bit of sense, but it was so sweet. Wasn’t it?

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted to do this on my own.”

“You will be doing it on your own, honey,” Jolena said, her hand touching Cari’s. “It’s a loan from the bank—and that’s what you needed. We’re just the insurance policy. And we talked this over good and thorough and we both agree you won’t let us down.”

Before Cari could form another protest, the handshake agreement was in place and the paperwork was being drawn up.

“You can all meet back here in a few days to sign the papers,” Mr. Phillips said, smiling at last. He reached out a hand to Rick. “Good doing business with you.”

Rick pointed to Cari. “You’re doing business with this woman, Mr. Phillips. She’s the boss. Don’t forget that.”

Cari appreciated the way he’d shifted the power back to her. But she wanted to have a long talk with him when she could find her pulse again.

“Thank you, Mr. Phillips,” she finally said. “I’ll be in touch.”

The old man nodded and gave her a grudging smile. “You must be a lot like your father, Cari. He always had champions, friends willing to vouch for him no matter what. That’s how he formed such a solid business.” He glanced down at his desk and mumbled, “Too bad his current wife can’t be the same way.” Looking embarrassed, he quickly amended that. “But it seems you have two very high-up champions of your own. Not a bad way to start out, let me tell you.”

Jolena pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “She has one very, very high-up champion—the Lord wants Cari to grow and prosper. I think that’s why He brought her home.”

“I can’t fight that kind of power,” Mr. Phillips replied with a grin. “Now, if y’all don’t mind, I do have some scheduled appointments today.”

Cari waited until they walked out onto the sidewalk before she turned on them. “I can’t believe you two. You steamrolled me into this. Now I not only owe the bank, but I owe both of you, too.”

“A simple thank-you would be nice,” Jolena said, giving her a stern look.

“Thank you,” she said, letting out a long breath. “But honestly, I don’t know how to thank you. I feel like a charity case.”

“You are no such thing,” Rick replied. “Jolena and I had a long talk and decided this would be a good business decision. Doreen purposely let that house go to ruin. This is our way of taking care of business. So don’t go all noble and self-righteous on us. We intend to see a return on our investment, let me tell you.”

Jolena chimed in. “Yeah. Our best hope is that we never have to take over that loan, honey. While we’d love to own rental property on First Street, we’d rather just sign off and be done with it when push comes to shove.”

“No pressure there,” Cari said, wondering how she’d managed to get herself in this fix. “But I am grateful. I can’t begin to tell you what this means to me.”

Jolena gave her a quick hug. “I’ve got work to do.” Then she leaned close. “Your parents gave me a start twenty years ago. They sold me the diner at a rock-bottom price and even did owner financing for me. I owe them both, honey. This is my way of paying back a grateful debt.”

A grateful debt. Cari liked that concept. And she was grateful. “I’ll work hard to make sure I do the same, then.”

She watched as Jolena pranced down the flower-lined street toward the diner. Then Cari turned to Rick. “Okay, I get why Jolena helped me. She’s obligated since she’s my godmother. But you, Rick? I don’t understand that part. You barely know me. Care to explain why you just put your neck on the line for me?”

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