LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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