Hometown Princess. Lenora Worth
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