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 silly since her credit history wasn’t the best, but she had to try.
Determination and the financial budget she’d worked so hard to create and maintain over the past couple of years driving her on, Cari put away her bag and decided, now that she’d cleared and cleaned the downstairs open area, she’d give the bathroom one more thorough cleaning. She could then tackle the upstairs again, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.
First on the list would be to make sure the stairs were safe. They’d seemed a bit wobbly yesterday when she’d ventured up to see her turret room. That was another thing on the list—the turret room was intact but dirty and waterlogged from broken windowpanes. The pigeons seemed to love to roost there, too.
“Too bad about that.”
She remembered the room when it had been all bright whites and feminine blues and yellows, with a tiny little table and chairs and a real porcelain tea set where she’d entertained her dolls and, sometimes, her father and mother, too. Cari had clopped around in a big hat and a pair of feather-encrusted plastic high heels, a princess content in her own skin. And very innocent and naive in her security.
“Too bad about that, too.”
But she intended to restore the room in those same sky-blues and sunshine-yellows, using a hydrangea theme since the old bushes out front were still intact and blooming to beat the band.
Hearing the front door squeak open, she wondered if the contractor was here already.
“Ye-hoo? Anybody home?”
Doreen. Cari gave herself a mental shake. She wouldn’t let that woman get to her. Taking a deep, calming breath, she called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Doreen came through the arched doorway to stop just inside the empty kitchen, her gaze sweeping the room with distaste. “I just had to come and see for myself if all the rumors I kept hearing were true.” Patting her bright red teased hair, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious, Cari.”
Cari prayed for patience. Putting her hands down beside her jeans so she wouldn’t use them to do physical harm, she lifted her eyebrows. “Serious? Oh, you mean about reopening Duncan House? Yes, I’m very serious.”
Doreen dropped her designer bag on the table. “I heard about it at the chamber of commerce meeting the other night and I just couldn’t believe my ears. I mean, I knew your father left this old place to you—why, I’ll never understand. But honestly, I expected you to call me, begging me to list it, just to get it off your hands.”
Cari couldn’t believe the audacity of this vile woman. “Why would I do that, Doreen? This is all I have left. You managed to get the rest.”
Score one for Cari. The woman bristled to the point of turning as red as her dyed hair. “Your father left everything to me because he knew you’d just squander it away. I mean, c’mon, now, Cari, you don’t actually think you can make a go of things in this old building, do you? The last tenant found out pretty quick that this place is way too far gone to run a business in. The utilities alone are over the top.”
“From what I heard, you charged the last tenant too much rent and made too many demands for him to keep his photography and frame business going. I heard he moved to a new strip mall out on I-75 and he’s doing great.”
“That obnoxious man—I was glad to be rid of him. Always calling wanting something fixed, something changed. Impossible to deal with.”
Doreen wouldn’t give an inch, Cari knew. So she didn’t try to argue with the woman. “I’m here to stay, Doreen. Get used to it.”
Doreen grabbed her purse. “We’ll see how long you last. You know, if you get desperate and want to sell, I’ll cut you a deal. I’d planned to have this place torn down and if we both play our cards right, that can still happen. I’ll be glad to take it off your hands and for a fair price, too.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Cari asked. “Especially since you didn’t
