Hometown Princess. Lenora Worth

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.