At Long Last, a Bride Read online

  Kincaid nodded. “I’ll have the appraiser out sometime tomorrow, if that works for you.”

  Joe held up his cell phone. “You know how to find me.”

  They walked out of the diner together, but headed in opposite directions. Joe climbed into his truck just as Kincaid reached his silver SUV. He didn’t get in but continued on up the street, lifting a hand now and then to people driving by. Even though he kept to himself mostly, he was well liked. Or at least, Joe had never heard any rumors about the man….

  Including about women.

  He wasn’t a player. Stable. Beyond comfortable financially. Steady. Committed to Chance City.

  Like Dixie.

  Joe shifted in his seat. His breath went shallow. If he could find someone to watch over Dixie, the kind of man she deserved, Joe could leave in peace. She’d given up all those years waiting for him. This could be his gift to her.

  He could put them together, Kincaid and Dixie. He could make sure that she was the one to handle the sale of the house, force them to communicate, spend time together.

  Kincaid had said, “My pleasure,” when Joe had mentioned he would be gone a lot, leaving Kincaid to work with Dixie on the sale.

  Hell, who wouldn’t want her? She wanted what Joe couldn’t give her, not for a long time to come—marriage and babies. He had to do the right thing and let her be with someone who could. He would get it all set up before he left town. Kincaid would be a good choice, Joe thought.

  Even if it killed him.

  Chapter Two

  Dixie looked at herself in the mirror at the beauty shop where she worked, where she’d gone to hide. Her eyes looked hollow. She’d stopped herself from crying several times since she’d walked out on Joe an hour ago, midconversation. She knew he’d had more to say, but she couldn’t stand there a second longer.

  He’d decided to end their relationship with a final blow—selling their house.

  She’d gotten in her car and left with no direction in mind. She couldn’t go back to Nana Mae’s. She couldn’t go to her home away from home, Aggie McCoy’s. Dixie couldn’t involve Joe’s mother in this, or any of the other McCoys, who were closer to her than her own family, even her parents.

  She’d had no place to go to but here, Bitty’s Beauty Shoppe, where she’d worked since graduating from cosmetology school a few months ago.

  Her future now. Her whole future, apparently.

  Even with her heart breaking she understood Joe’s need to go places and do things. All his adult life, after his father died when Joe was barely out of high school, he’d been taking care of everyone. Because his brothers were off creating exciting careers for themselves, Joe had taken it upon himself to watch over his five older sisters, his mother and grandmother. But now his brothers lived in Chance City again. His sisters were all married and settled.

  As Joe had said, it was his turn.

  Someone tapped on the front window. Kincaid smiled through the glass at her, then, as the owner of the building used his key to unlock the door and come inside. He’d been her first client when she’d started working at Bitty’s, had immediately established a standing 9:30 a.m. appointment every third Friday.

  “You’re fast,” she said. She’d called him barely ten minutes ago.

  “I was in the neighborhood.” He came toward her.

  She extended a hand, preventing a hug, if that was what he’d intended. She felt raw and exposed, and didn’t want anyone close, especially the megabusinessman Kincaid.

  He eyed her closely, kindly, as if he could see her broken heart. It unnerved her a little.

  “I take it you’ve made a decision,” he said.

  “Yes.” She drew a shaky breath. “I want to do it. I want to buy the shop, rent the apartment upstairs. All of it.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “I said I want to. I’m not sure how I’m going to swing it financially, but I’ll get it figured out. Bitty will work with me on it, I’m sure. She’s anxious to move to Seattle before Christmas, in time for her first grandchild to be born. Maybe if I can give her enough down payment, she’ll carry the loan.”

  Dixie looked around, picturing the changes she would make. She knew exactly what she wanted, had already gotten estimates for the work to be done. “She’s not asking much, actually. It’s like starting from scratch, since Bitty and I have been the only beauticians since Carole Ann left. The biggest expense will be the renovation. I plan to turn it into a day spa. I want this place to be a destination, so aside from lining up a couple more beauticians, I’ll have to bring in a massage therapist, manicurist and an esthetician, build more rooms that are private and luxurious. I’m going to check with some bed-and-breakfasts and work out getaway-weekend deals with my spa.”

  “You’ve thought this through.” He sat in one of the chairs as she wandered.

  In her mind’s eye she saw it finished, could even hear music playing, and voices, talking and laughing.

  “I’ve been thinking about it for years, actually,” she said. “It’s timing, you know. Bitty decides to sell. The shop next door shuts down, so I can expand into that space. Luck was on my side.”

  “Oprah says luck is preparation meeting opportunity. I like that. It applies to me, too,” Kincaid said.

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way, but it’s true. I may be new to the salon business, but I managed my parents’ hardware store for years, so I understand how business works, especially customer-service-oriented ones.” She crossed her arms, looking around the room. “I’ve studied this particular business upside down and backward. I know what to do and how to do it. I surveyed my clients. I visited a whole bunch of spas so that I know what works, and what doesn’t, and how to adapt for this particular location.” She stopped her rapid-fire monologue and took a breath. “I just need someone to believe in me as much as I believe in myself. I want a chance to prove myself.”

  “I’ll give you that chance, Dixie. I’ll act as your banker.”

  Stunned, she struggled to find words. “I couldn’t poss—”

  “I do it all the time. The Bank of Kincaid, not open to the public, but loans available at reasonable rates.”

  Surprise lodged in her throat. “Um. That’s a generous offer, thank you. But I want to establish my own credit, you know? Part of being a responsible businesswoman.”

  “I understand that, and I admire you for it. But if the bank turns you down, remember I’m your backup. Frankly, the amount you need is small potatoes. One way or the other you’ll own this business.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I think you’re a low risk for default,” he said. “You have skill and passion. People with a passion have a much better chance of succeeding.”

  Something bothered her about him. He said the right things, so it wasn’t that. It was the way he looked at her, she decided. As if he knew something she didn’t.

  He stood then. “Full disclosure here, Dixie, before we go any further. Joe just asked me to be the listing Realtor on your house. I agreed.”

  She was taken aback by how fast Joe had set the process in motion. And he hadn’t bothered to consult her on which Realtor to use—

  “You don’t approve?” Kincaid asked.

  “No. I mean, yes. It’s fine, I guess.”

  “I advised him it wasn’t a good time to try to sell. Market’s flat. We’re headed into winter. He said he didn’t want to wait. Is that how you feel, too?”

  “My nest egg isn’t very big. I could use the money from the sale. Even though my appointment book has been almost full since I started here, there are dry spells in any enterprise. I’ll need a security net beyond the loan.”

  “If I may offer some advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “The bank will want collateral, secured by your assets. Joe would have to be involved, because until it sells, your house is your collateral, and he owns half. After it sells, your cash will be your security on the loan, and made part of your contr
act. But until then, he’s part of the deal. Do you think that will be a problem?”

  “I doubt it, but I won’t know without asking.” After a year of avoiding each other, they were now being thrust together in order to end things. The irony didn’t escape her.

  “Show me some numbers, Dixie. Tell me what Bitty wants, what it’ll take for the renovations. I can better advise you.”

  They spent the next half hour going over figures and estimating future costs, something that hadn’t yet occurred to her, as she hadn’t made her decision until today.

  “When do you think you’ll be open for business?” he asked, putting aside the pad of paper with numbers written all over it.

  “I figure we’ll be completely ready to go in three months. A Valentine’s weekend opening,” she said. “I’ve found a motor home to rent that’s been set up as a mobile salon. I’ll park it in the back lot. But I’ll have the main room done first so that I can take the business indoors as soon as possible. Clients will be willing to put up with that temporary situation for only so long.”

  He shook his head. “I think you’re being overly optimistic about the timing. Renovations could take up to twice that long, probably, speaking from experience.”

  “Two months to move back inside,” she repeated. “Three months to completion.”

  “Care to make a friendly wager on that?”

  She saw a glimmer in his eyes. “Sure. What’s the prize?”

  “For me, free haircuts for a year. You?”

  “You pay for the new sign out front.”

  “Deal.” They shook hands. “When will you be moving into the upstairs apartment?”

  She stuffed her fists into her pockets. “I want to paint first, add my own colors, plus I have to get someone to replace me at Nana Mae’s house. I won’t leave until I know she’ll be taken care of.”

  His sharp blue gaze pierced her. “Why haven’t you asked me to do the remodel, Dixie? You know I’ve fixed up a lot of houses and several businesses.”

  “I need to handle it on my own.” Everyone saw her as independent minded, but it wasn’t the same as being a self-sufficient woman. She hadn’t done much on her own before. Never lived alone. Never owned a business. She had a lot to prove, at least to herself. She’d always been proud—and a little envious—of how Joe had built a business from nothing. She would be starting with something already in place but turning it into something different—and hers.

  “I understand that need,” Kincaid said, giving her arm a slight squeeze. “Keep me in the loop, please, about the shop and your house.”

  After he left, she unlocked the door to the upstairs apartment, which had been without a tenant for a few months. Someday maybe she could buy a house of her own and expand the business into the upstairs. Or perhaps create a different business there.

  Excitement and anxiety merged as she looked around the space. Kincaid had updated the apartment a couple of years back, so the kitchen and bathroom were contemporary and clean. He’d replaced the windows with dual panes, keeping the Main Street noise to a minimum, and offering a good view of Chance City’s downtown. Bundled in warm jackets, tourists wandered along the wood-plank walkways, enjoying the mother lode town and its gold-rush-era history. “Quaint,” people called it.

  Dixie had lived here her whole life, so it was just home to her. And this apartment? She might be a country girl at heart, but she was a romantic, too. She would give it a feminine touch, not having to please anyone but herself. She’d found a white eyelet bedspread at the consignment shop yesterday and snatched it up. She would design her space around it.

  She would put her stamp on the salon, too, make it her own. Make it work.

  After that, she would get serious about finding someone to love, to marry and have babies with. She’d waited a long time for that already, had always believed the man by her side would be Joseph McCoy. Their mostly on, occasionally off relationship had lasted sixteen years. Now it was over. No more making up.

  Dixie relaxed her shoulders and rolled her neck, releasing the remaining tension. She felt good. Better than that—great. She was embarking on a new adventure into risky unknowns. Anticipation surged in her. She could be the Dixie she was before, but better. Stronger. More confident. Successful.

  She would make her mark.

  Dixie got in her car and headed for Sacramento, an hour’s drive south, trusting the fact she would at least be able to move into the apartment, even if nothing else came through. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with Joe and the loan.

  Today she would escape and stay out of range, do a little shopping, because by the time she returned to Nana Mae’s house tonight, the rumors would have spread, arousing if not satisfying curiosities.

  But that was life in Chance City.

  Chapter Three

  Anticipation raced through Dixie early the next morning as she toweled off from her shower. She was excited and nervous at the same time. So much to do. First, she needed to talk to Joe. He’d left several messages yesterday on her cell phone that she’d decided to put off until today, but now was anxious to take care of.

  She couldn’t believe they were going to be tied together by the property, now that they’d decided to sell it. She hoped he would cooperate.

  The dryer buzzed downstairs. Yanking on her robe, Dixie hurried to retrieve her clothes before the buzzer sounded again and woke up Nana Mae. At the bottom of the stairs she ran into Joe, literally. He grabbed her by the arms to stop her from knocking him down, then let go of her so fast she did almost fall.

  Since she’d moved in six months ago, he’d stopped coming to visit his grandmother, even to do her yard, unless Dixie was gone.

  “Why didn’t you call me back?” he asked. “I—”

  “Shh,” she interrupted, taking him by the arm and pulling him into the kitchen, shutting the door. “Nana Mae is still asleep. Wait here.”

  She rushed into the laundry room, set the dryer on the cool-tumble cycle and turned off the buzzer, which she’d forgotten to do earlier.

  Joe was filling his to-go cup with coffee when she returned, then he made himself at home at the kitchen table. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She took a seat across the table, suddenly aware that she was naked under her robe, which was thick and fluffy, not showing anything that shouldn’t be shown. But still, she knew she wore nothing underneath it. And he was wearing her favorite look—plaid shirt, down vest, jeans and boots. His cuffs were rolled up, exposing his forearms. She’d always loved his forearms.

  Dixie squirmed a little in the chair as heat built inside her. Need. It’d been a whole year since he’d used those powerful arms to carry her to bed, something he’d done frequently….

  “What’s up?” she asked, her throat tight.

  He frowned. “I needed to let you know that I talked to Kincaid about listing our house.”

  “I heard.”

  “You did? He called you?”

  Implied in Joe’s tone was, “You answered the phone for him but not me?”

  “I called him,” she said. “He’s about to become my landlord. I’m buying the salon from Bitty, and I’m moving into the apartment upstairs.”

  Joe sat back. “Big changes for you.”

  “For sure. Did you ever picture me as a businesswoman?”

  “I call what you did for your parents for all those years being a businesswoman. Don’t you?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She appreciated his recognition of her abilities. “But I’m facing some roadblocks, and I need your help to get over them.”

  “Whatever I can do, Dix. You know that.”

  “You may change your mind.” She linked her fingers in her lap. “In order for me to get a loan for the purchase and remodeling, I need collateral. The only collateral I have is my share of the house. Which means you’ll have to be involved, since you also own half. It’s complicated.”

  Complicated because he would have some control over her
future, and that was scary. She had to stay friendly with him, at a time when she also needed to keep away and let her heart heal.

  “Actually, it’s simple,” he said. “You can count on me.”

  “I won’t default on the loan.”

  “Of course you won’t.” He spun his coffee cup back and forth. “So, you’ll be working with Kincaid?”

  “To a point. He owns the building, not the business. But we spent time together, and he gave me good advice.”

  “Do you like him?”

  Dixie cocked her head. What a strange question. What did it matter if she liked him or not? “I trust him, at least as far as business dealings are concerned. Why?”

  “Because I expect you’ll end up being the one to handle the house-sale business more than I will. It’s good if you like him. Trust him.”

  “I do.” She didn’t tell him she’d been personally uncomfortable a couple of times, because she couldn’t put her finger on why. Maybe she’d just been oversensitive, given how fresh her heartache was. But he’d seemed too interested—personally interested—and she wanted them to have a strictly business relationship. She got the sense he wanted more.

  Which was perhaps why he’d been willing to lend her money. But did he want her beholden to him, or did it make good business sense? That was the question.

  “But?” Joe asked, having waited through her silence.

  “Oh. Nothing. Just normal fears about embarking on such an endeavor.”

  “When will you move out?”

  “When I’ve lined up someone to take over here. I won’t leave Nana Mae in the lurch.”

  “In what lurch?” the woman being discussed said as she swung the kitchen door open.

  Joe popped up and led her to the table. She was a strong woman, a true matriarch, but Dixie always thought she looked fragile in the morning, before she was dressed for the day, before she applied a hint of blush and lipstick to brighten her face.

  “I’m moving into my own place,” Dixie said. “I’ve never lived alone. I need to.”

  Nana Mae nodded. “I agree, my dear.”