Homeward Bound

By Toni Noel

Successful businessman Luke Townsend hires Krista Lake to stage his Rancho Santa Fe estate for quick sale. He has unwillingly assumed the responsibility of running the family conglomerate following his father's sudden death and has placed his own plans on hold.

The product of foster care, Krista longs for a home of her own, and promptly falls in love with Luke's. He wrongly believes unloading his house will relieve his stress until Krista points out the obvious -- his mother is also qualified to fill Luke's CEO shoes.

Relinquishing the company reins frees Luke to move to Sacramento and head his favorite charity, a non-profit for fatherless, at-risk boys. He should be happy there, but he's not, even after his estate sells for a nice profit. The sale of the home she'd poured her soul into nearly breaks Krista's heart until Luke comes up with a plan to make everything right.

135 Pages

• Language: English
• Publisher: M P Publishing, S. D.
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386434894

Toni Noel

Flame Arden speaks like a well-bred Southern lady. Nothing could be further from the truth. She claims to write sex scenes with squirm factor. You be the judge as she opens the boudoir door to one-man, one-woman erotic relationships and gives you a glimpse inside. Her happy and lasting marriage has prepared Flame to write sizzling love scenes, and she doesn't disappoint.

Book preview

Other Books By Toni Noel

Decisive Moments

Fairy Dusted

Fragile Bonds

Law Breakers and Love Makers

Lying Eyes

Restored Dreams

Rising Above

Temp to Permanent

To Feel Again

Toni Noel

Writing as Flame Arden

Christmas Eve

And You, Virginia, Are No Lady

Great Balls of Fire

Frankly, My Dear

Copyright© 2013 by Toni Noel

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons - living or dead - are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to my loving parents, who taught me the importance of God and home, and to anyone still looking for their soul mate.

Chapter One

Hair stylist Krista Lake's thoughts reeled as she separated another small section of realtor Penny Hawkins' short, bleached hair and wrapped it around a curler.

You'll never have a better opportunity, Krista, Penny insisted with a determined nod of her head, making the curler fly out of Krista's hand and bounce around on the floor. "You did tell Terry you hoped to stage houses listed for sale in classy neighborhoods, didn't you?"

Stooping, Krista retrieved the curler and dropped it in her apron pocket. Well, yes, but I meant when I finished my schooling—

Your certificate can wait. Readying my client's property for my open house will put your name up there with some of the best stagers in the county.

Quick, say yes before Penny changes her mind. Oh, I want to take you up on your offer, I'm just not sure I’m ready. I have so little experience. I could mess up your client's house big time. I haven't completed my—

You don't need that piece of paper to do the kind of magic I know you're capable of doing. All I have to do is look around this upscale salon and remember how it looked before you designed and supervised its renovation to know you're the right person for the job. Think, Krista. This is the perfect opportunity to prove yourself. Terry had enough faith in you to put you in charge of her remodeling, and I feel comfortable putting my trust in you, too.

Krista secured a roller and parted another section of hair. I don't know. I—

You worry too much. What with my usual stager hospitalized with a broken back and no other experienced decorator available to stage my client's estate, I thought you'd jump at this chance. What's holding you back? Surely you don't plan on sticking your gloved hands in smelly chemicals for the rest of your life.

Well, no, but—

Listing this estate in Rancho Santa Fe is going to put my agency on the map. You, too, if you step up to the plate. Please say yes.

How can I? I—

Penny huffed. How can you not?

Am I ready for this?

All Krista's old fears of rejection came bubbling to the surface. She tamped them back down with a determined shake of her head.

"You're right, Penny. I don't want to be a beautician much longer. That's why I'm going to night school, but I have so little staging experience. My only hands-on experience was the remodel on Drewry Lane I supervised for a class project."

And that house sold in two days without an open house. I checked. That's all the proof I need that you know how to stage properties for quick sale.

Krista glanced in the mirror at Penny, catching and holding her gaze. How big is this house?

Eight-thousand square feet is my guess. The landscaping needs some work, and the main house, guest house, and pool house are only partially furnished and waiting for your unique ideas.

Too stunned to respond, Krista parted a section of hair, rolled it onto a curler, and snapped the curler shut, then sectioned another.

She didn't need to watch her hands, she'd done this so many times, but not staging. How many rooms?

I think twelve, maybe fifteen.

Whoa. I'm sure I'm not ready for all that.

Of course you are. It's no different from remodeling a beauty salon, it will just require more planning, more fresh paint, and involve more shopping for special accessories to set each room apart.

What if I disappoint you? What if the homeowner doesn't like my ideas?

Like I said, Luke has no expectations other than to get his house sold. He's a nice guy, and he's in no big rush for a sale. He insists his daily commute to La Jolla's Golden Triangle is doable for a while longer. He plans to shop for a condo closer to his work once his house sells.

Penny caught and held Krista's gaze in the mirror. Why are you so hesitant, Krista? And stop shaking your head.

What if I toss my comb-out cape to Terry, walk out that door with you, and screw up your client's house? I might not get another chance.

You'll know if something doesn't look right, and what to do to fix it, just like you always know what the next client to sit in this chair needs. You have good taste, and I'm convinced you can't learn sophisticated style from a book. I'll bet there's not all that much difference in styling hair and arranging furniture. All you have to do to prove me right is step out of your comfort zone and give it a try.

Krista laughed in spite of her misgivings, then sobered. How can we be sure I'm good enough to stage an open house in Rancho Santa Fe? I'd expected to start with something small. A condo in La Jolla, perhaps. Or a Craftsman bungalow in North Park.

You'll never know if you are good enough unless you try. Luke's a bachelor and has no preconceived notions of what a stager is or does, so he should be easy to please. Besides, he won't be around much. He travels on business a lot. He promised to put cash up front for the stager to work with, then step aside.

But a fifteen room house with grounds needing work, too? I don't know anything about landscaping.

Like I said, I'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You'll be paid while you learn. This time when Penny caught Krista's gaze in the mirror and Krista failed to look away, Penny smiled triumphantly. You are weakening, aren't you? I see it in your eyes.

Maybe, but before I make a commitment, I need to speak to Terry about changing my hours here. Then I'd like to walk through this Luke's house.

No problem. Here's a key to the lockbox on Luke's front door. He's taking a redeye flight tonight and will be away several days. Let yourself in and see what you think. It's a fairly new, well-designed house, but most of what decorating has been done needs to be undone. You'll see what I mean right away. If I wasn't convinced you'll know what needs changing there and what to leave alone, I'd never have considered approaching you.

There, Krista said, securing the last curler at the nape of Penny's neck. Let's get you under the dryer. I'll set the timer for thirty minutes and be back to check on you.

Krista waited until the owner's client was also comfortably seated under a dryer, then crossed the salon to Terry's station.

You look like the cat that swallowed something bigger than a canary. What's up? Terry asked.

Penny just listed a multi-million dollar house for sale and asked me to stage it for an open house.

Terry gave Krista a tight hug. Where? I hope you had the good sense to say yes.

Rancho Santa Fe. Accepting this assignment will mean I'll need a lot of time off. Or I could come in late afternoons and close-up for you again.

Your clients are so faithful I don't I think they'll object to the shift. Call them and reschedule.

Thanks, Terry. One hurdle cleared.

So how do you go about staging some rich family's estate?

With candles and fresh flowers like any other house, I imagine, but I'll let you know after I see the property tomorrow. And just so you know everything I know, there is no family, just some supposedly easy-to-please business man.

Terry sucked in a deep breath. A very successful business man from the location of his house. Or is he just another distressed homeowner forced to sell to avoid foreclosure?

I doubt it. Penny talked like the owner is well off. Maybe he's just moving on.

With you helping him, selling his home should be a breeze.

But Terry, what if it isn't? What if I fail?

She squeezed Krista's hand. You won't, but even if you did, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

I'm not so sure. Krista knew all too well the awful feeling of rejection, the bitter taste of defeat, knew how it felt to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime because she didn't have the right clothes to fit in with those around her.

Nagging doubts continued to undermine Krista's hard-earned but tenuous self-confidence, yet she knew she didn't want this opportunity to pass without giving it her best shot.

A timer dinged at her station. Penny's ready to come out from under the dryer. I better get back to my station. You really think I should do this, Terry?

You'd be crazy to miss this chance.

*****

The following morning, Krista turned into a long, circular driveway. Down the drive, a rambling estate rose out of a green sea of well-kept lawn.

Where are the thoroughbred horses I'd expect to see grazing on a lawn this deep?

She glanced around. No white fences to keep the horses in or trees to soften the horizon dominated by the homeowner's massive house.

I'll soon remedy the absence of trees.

Whoa. When had she decided to take this job?

It's still a little early on this tour to be having such thoughts.

Krista parked her Dodge Dart with only one rusty fender and strode up the walk. Tall windows reaching well into the second story flanked the formal entrance.

She pulled Penny's key from her pocket, unlocked the lockbox then the massive teak door, and stepped inside, momentarily distracted by the total lack of street noise. No birds singing. No lawnmowers trimming a quarter inch from well manicured lawns. Only silence.

It's as if this empty house has drawn its last breath.

Krista rubbed her arms, the silence giving her the creeps. She pulled a notebook and pen from her tote bag, preparing to make notes. To the right of the entrance hall she stepped into what should have been the primary place to entertain, the spacious living room.

Sun streamed in through the uncovered windows, hurting her eyes. A plaid sofa, much too casual for its elegant surroundings, hugged the far wall of a sparsely furnished but well-designed room.

Good bones. Krista stepped down the hall and stopped abruptly outside a totally empty room.

I'll have a blank canvas here, provided I do take the job. Better check out the rest.

Add a few spots of color to the nicely designed kitchen facing a good size pool, but not a lot more, she wrote in her notebook.

At the head of a curving staircase, six open doors invited the prospective stager's inspection. The first, a good size bedroom, held a treadmill, and nothing else. Further down the hall, a solitary laundry basket commanded the center of interest in an otherwise empty room.

Appalled by the red color seeping into the wide hall from inside a room further along, giving the hall a rosy glow, Krista paused just outside the door of what must be the master suite, and peered inside.

Heavy drapes covered the window wall. Curious, she strode just far enough into the room to gape at the oversize four-poster bed complete with ruffled tester, silk bed skirt, and bright scarlet floor-length drapes to match.

Am I ready for this?

She'd need at least a month to right the wrongs committed by Luke's decorator and put this house in shape.

A wonder he hasn't smothered under all that ruffled silk. How could the poor man possibly sleep?

Krista moved across the room and opened the door to a large walk-in closet obviously designed for his and hers, the woman's side well appointed but depressingly empty, the well-tailored Italian suits hanging on the man's side neatly arranged. Shiny pairs of dress shoes lined a low shelf. Recently laundered shirts still in plastic bags from the cleaners matched a rack of expensive looking suits and ties.

The lucky spouse who moves her Jimmy Choo shoes in here will feel like a queen.

Backing out, she closed the closet door.

Even with the red glow this room is gloomy. She crossed the room and opened the drapes. The sudden wash of sunlight blinded her.

She staggered back.

A door opened. Surprised, she turned toward the sound.

A trim man stood in the bathroom doorway wearing a lecherous smile and nothing else.

Uhh! Krista stumbled over her feet in her hurry to hide behind the window coverings.

My face must match these ugly drapes.

The man's hearty laugh followed her. Okay. I get it... Give me a sec to get decent.

The bathroom door clicked shut.

One moment passed. Two.

Get out of here while you can.

Krista stepped out from behind the drapes just as the bathroom door swung open again.

She froze.

The same well-built man, now wearing a towel around his hips, emerged.

Morning, beautiful. Did my brother put you up to this? If he did, I swear I'll—

Giving her a hasty appraisal, he cleared his throat. On second thought, I'm indebted to Kurt.

Her skin heating, Krista headed for the hall. You have your realtor to thank. I'm your stager. I'll wait for you downstairs.

That's too bad. I was rather enjoying myself. Laughter followed her down the hall.

She hurried to the stairs and descended them two steps at a time. The living room seemed the best place to hold a business conference, so she headed there, her knees quaking from her forced flight.

A glimpse into what should have been the formal dining room stopped her cold.

Leather chairs and a wicker sofa surrounded a boxy, glass-topped cocktail table.

Leather? Too cold. She wouldn't be moving those to the living room.

This house might have a game room. If so, these chairs are heading there.

And the wicker?

It's out of here.

A massive dining table and ten chairs, plus a few well-chosen accessories, and this room will please the most discriminating guest. Soften