Hometown Princess

“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.