Welcome to Paradise.
The sky-blue sign welcoming Charlotte to the town of Paradise, Colorado, brought both a jolt of anger and a bittersweet lump to her throat.
She was home.
Leaning forward in the backseat of the taxi, she peered out the window and absorbed her familiar surroundings. Georgia would probably scold her for vetoing the stretch limo idea and taking a cab instead, but a limo was way too pretentious for Charlotte’s liking. She’d also decided against bringing her usual crew of bodyguards, much to her manager’s irritation. But no way was she coming home with an entourage. Growing up, she’d hated drawing any attention to herself, and old habits died hard.
“Pretty town,” the cab driver spoke up. “My granddaughter just moved here.”
Yes, she couldn’t deny Paradise was pretty. With the mountains looming in the distance, Paradise was home to lush forests, big lakes and secret creeks, an outdoorsman’s dream. As they ventured into the heart of the town, she noticed that not much had changed. Aside from the outlet mall they’d passed half a mile ago, Paradise had stayed immune to big city interference. Main Street still featured a variety of little shops and family-owned restaurants, and as the taxi stopped to let a few pedestrians pass, she noticed a construction crew working hard in the town square, evidently getting ready for tonight’s big event.
They drove past the beautiful historical buildings that housed the Paradise Post, the courthouse, and the offices of Lockhart and Lockhart Attorneys, all of which made Charlotte smile ruefully. The Price and Lockhart families owned nearly everything in town, even co-owned some, which was ironic since the two families despised each other. Charlotte wasn’t much of a history buff, but everyone in Paradise knew of the Price-Lockhart feud. The two town founders, Jeremiah Price and Edward Lockhart, had once been friends according to the legends, but a falling out between them had led to a rivalry that still existed today.
It had been fun, watching Lexie Price and Bree Lockhart claw each other’s eyes out during high school. Charlotte always found it funny how prejudice was passed down from generation to generation.
“Here we are,” the driver announced, coming to a stop in front of the quaint Victorian that housed the Anderson B&B.
As Charlotte got out of the cab, the driver hopped out to get her suitcase from the trunk. She’d packed light—she only planned on being here for a few days—and she carried her own suitcase down the flower-lined pathway toward the wooden wraparound porch.
The front door flew open before she could even knock and a pair of chubby arms engulfed Charlotte in a big hug.
“My Lord!” Sue Anderson exclaimed. “Look at you, all grown up! Why, Charlotte Hill, you are stunning!”
The first smile of the day sprung to Charlotte’s lips. Unlike everyone else, Sue Anderson had been good to her back then, and she knew there was nothing false about Sue’s excitement or compliments.
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. A,” she said, genuinely pleased by the sight of Sue’s familiar cornflower-blue eyes and short curly hair, which was now more silver than blonde.
Sue ushered her inside, barraging her with questions about her music, her career and life in general. When Charlotte assured her that everything was going well, Sue gave a beaming smile and led her upstairs to the suite she’d prepared for her.
“Everyone is so excited that you’re back,” Sue gushed.
I doubt it.
She kept the thought to herself and admired the pretty bedroom, complete with a canopy bed, thick cherry-red curtains and antique mahogany furniture.
“I am so proud of what you’ve accomplished, Charlotte,” Sue said as she lingered in the doorway. “I’m sure your mama would be too.”
Bitterness seeped into her mouth, making her swallow down the sour taste. Her mother, proud? Not likely. Tiffany Hill—Tiff, as she’d liked to be called—had only cared about one person when she’d been alive: herself. And maybe her vodka. And the parade of men she brought into their home.
Her daughter, on the other hand, never even made a blip on Tiff’s radar.
“It’s a shame you had the old house torn down,” Sue added, referring to the childhood home Charlotte had ordered to be demolished less than a week after her mother’s death.
“Mayor Price wanted the land,” Charlotte replied with a shrug. “And since I didn’t plan on using it, I figured it would be of better use to the mayor.”
“Well, he did make use of it. Little Lexie lives there now. Mayor built her a gorgeous house up there.”
Charlotte almost tripped over her own feet. Lexie Price lived on her former land? Wasn’t that something. She suddenly felt like laughing as she wondered if Lexie had performed an exorcism prior to moving in, so she could eradicate the spirit of Tiff the town whore.