Hometown Princess

“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.”