Lenora Worth - Hometown Princess

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. But I worked hard over the last couple of years to straighten things out. My business plan worked in Atlanta. I just let my personal finances get out of control.”

“It takes longer than a couple of years to clear up bad credit and you know it,” he retorted. “I do admire your fortitude, however.”

Cari stood, her fingers grasping the strap of her bag. “And I admire your complete and unwavering honesty. But I’m not going to give up on this. I came to you first because this is where my father did his banking. I’ll just try somewhere else.”

“You’ll have a tough row to hoe, Carinna. I wish you luck.”

Cari turned to leave, dignity and the Duncan name making her spine straight. Too bad she hadn’t considered coming to the bank before moving into the old house. But she wanted to live there, remodel or no remodel. She’d find a way to make this work, if she had to redo the house in square yard increments. And if she had to find a job somewhere else until she could get the boutique going.

She was on her way out the double doors when they swooshed open, the morning heat and sunshine warring with the sterile air-conditioning and doom and gloom of the annoying bank. Cari looked up and found herself blocked by Jolena and—

“Hi, Rick, what are you doing here?”

“He’s with me,” Jolena said, lifting a thumb toward Rick. “I mean, we’re together—here to see you.” She looked past Cari to Mr. Phillip’s office. “Let’s go back in and talk to the man, honey.”

“What?” Cari tried to protest, but Rick’s strong hand on her elbow stopped her. When he guided her back toward the big office, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“We have a plan,” Rick said, not bothering to slow down. “Just be quiet and listen.”

Not sure she liked being ordered around, even if he did look yummy and forceful in his white shirt and crisp jeans, Cari glanced from Jolena to Rick. “Jo, what’s about to happen?”

“You getting your loan approved,” Jolena replied, her dark eyes wide with intrigue and triumph. “Let Rick do the talking, okay?”

Cari didn’t have much choice. Rick was already shaking hands with Mr. Phillips. What were they going to do, hold a gun on the man and demand he give her some money? Not a half-bad idea, although that would look like bank robbery to all the other customers.

“This is…highly unusual,” Mr. Phillips said, his expression bordering on perturbed. “Rick, care to explain this unexpected visit?”

Rick directed Cari to a chair and gently pushed her down. “Yes, sir. Mrs. Beasley and I are here as concerned citizens of Knotwood Mountain. Since we’re both business owners on First Street and since Miss Duncan wants to renovate Duncan House and move her already successful business here, and since she is the daughter of one of the town’s most prominent citizens—now deceased—we’re here to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

Both Cari and Mr. Phillips asked the same question. “Which is?”

Jolena grinned and nodded toward Rick. “Tell him, Rick. Go ahead.”

Rick pressed his hands onto the big desk, his knuckles splayed across the unfortunate report regarding Cari’s finances. “We want to cosign a loan for Cari Duncan.”

“What?” Cari gasped, shaking her head.

“Impossible,” Mr. Phillips retorted.

“Not so quick,” Rick said, finally sitting down to talk business. “Think about this. Jolena and I both have a vested interest in the upkeep of First Street, and let’s face it, Duncan House had been an eyesore for years now. While we appreciate that Cari’s father was ill for many of those years and that his wife, Doreen, did her best to run his real estate company, we couldn’t help but notice the second Mrs. Duncan tended to neglect Duncan House.”

He gave Cari an encouraging look. “It’s been vacant for over a year now and, well, it just doesn’t sit well with us that the house has become so unappealing and run-down.” He sat up, his tone going from conversational to serious. “It doesn’t sit well with the chamber of commerce or the city council either. And I’m sure it doesn’t impress the locals and the tourists, not at all. I get complaints on a daily basis.”

Mr. Phillips lifted a hand. “But—”

Rick went right on talking. “I’ve thought of buying the place myself, but you know I have my hands full with the general store. And Jolena has a good thing going with the diner, but her customers have to stare at that boarded-up old house all the time. And that’s a shame.”

“A real crying shame,” Jolena added, her chin bobbing.

“Why, just the other day, Mrs. Meadows asked me what we intended to do about that old house. And when I told her none other than little Cari Duncan herself, the daughter of James Duncan, was coming back to fix up the place, well, I can’t tell you how excited Mrs. Meadows was. She even said she’d get the Garden Club in on helping with the landscaping. Something about getting the place on the National Historic Registry, too. And you know she’s one of those Daughters of the Revolution—those women can sure stir up a stink when they want something done. And Mrs. Meadows really wants something done about Duncan House. But only if she knows someone is willing to invest in the renovations. And do them up proper, of course.”

“But—”

Rick went in for the kill. “No buts, just a good solid plan to keep First Street pristine and tourist-ready. That’s why we’re here, Mr. Phillips. To do our civic duty.”

Cari tried to speak. “But—”

“No buts,” Jolena said, elbowing her in the ribs. “Work with us here, suga’.”

“I can’t let y’all do this,” Cari said, trying to stand. Two strong hands grabbed her and put her back in her place.

“Yes, you can,” Rick replied. “Because we’re not actually doing this for you—although we like you and we’re glad you’re back. It’s for the overall good of this community.” He winked at her then turned back to Mr. Phillips. “I’d hate to have to take this matter before the city council later this month. You know how revved up those good old boys can get when they think we’re losing tourist dollars.”