Room for Love

by Sophie Pembroke

  “They’re fitting it on Friday,” Carrie said, still staring at Moira. “So what’s going on here?”

  “Um...” Moira stalled, and was saved by Jacob appearing from behind the inn. “Jacob!”

  Jacob gave Carrie a wide grin. “Nate’s got some things to show you in the gardens, if you’ve got the time.”

  “Well, I...” She didn’t have the time, really. Her to do list wasn’t getting any shorter, after all. But there was something going on, and Carrie really wanted to know what it was. “Sure.”

  As long as it wasn’t the burnt out remains of the kitchen, how bad could it be, anyway?

  * * * *

  Nate hovered inside the cutting garden, tweaking the occasional piece of twine and replanting the windmills when an overly strong breeze knocked them over. They’d heard Carrie’s car returning almost five minutes ago. Jacob had headed straight round to the front of the inn, and Nate had run for the first stop on the Nate Green Utterly Worthwhile and Self Supporting Prospective Garden Tour. Any moment now, Carrie would arrive and he’d have to convince her of his plans.

  Because if she didn’t go for them, if she didn’t keep the gardens, what place was there for him at the Avalon Inn?

  “Before we start whatever this is,” Carrie said, stepping into the garden between the surrounding foliage and shrubs that kept the area secluded and staring around her at the twirls of twine, “just reassure me nothing has burnt down or broken.”

  Nate smiled. “I promise. Everything is just as intact as when you left.”

  “So it’s just tied up with string, then.” She glanced around the four beds again, her brow crinkling in confusion when she spotted the windmills.

  Jacob was standing behind her, giving him encouraging nods, and Nate realized he had to get on with it. Otherwise Carrie would start asking questions, and he’d never get his well-rehearsed spiel spoken at all.

  “Okay,” he started, after taking a deep breath. Carrie’s gaze flicked to his face, and he reminded himself again to speak slowly and clearly. “So. I know you were concerned about the value of the gardens to the Inn.”

  Carrie shook her head. “That’s not it, Nate. Honest. I know we need them for photos and...”

  “Actually,” Nate interrupted, his tone apologetic. “This is going to be easier and quicker for both of us if you just let me say my bit first.”

  “He’s been practicing all morning,” Jacob put in from the path. Nate wasn’t sure if that counted as helpful or not.

  “Practicing what?” Carrie asked, and Nate just looked at her, trying to convey just listen and find out in a glance. It must have worked, because Carrie tucked her hands behind her back and said, “Fine. This is my best listening face. Go ahead.”

  Nate tried to remember where he’d got to, and decided it was probably best to start from the beginning again. “I know you have concerns about the viability of keeping all the gardens here at the inn going, and think they might be more worthwhile as a commodity to be sold to raise more capital for the renovations.”

  He paused just long enough for Carrie to nod, then went on, “I’m going to show you exactly how our gardens can earn their keep.”

  As prearranged, Jacob came forward and moved Carrie to stand in the center of the cutting garden, and spun her slowly around in a circle.

  “This garden here, along with two other areas behind it, would provide the bulk of the flowers you need to decorate the inn–not just on a day to day basis, but for weddings and other functions too.” Nate watched Carrie’s face as he spoke. She seemed faintly intrigued, at least.

  “That would be useful,” she said, reaching her starting spot again.

  “And that’s not all.” On impulse, Nate grabbed her hand to lead her down the path toward his summerhouse. “We’d have the other cutting gardens here on the right, hidden from the main views from the inn but close enough for guests to walk in, if they’d like.” Carrie nodded again, and he kept plunging forward. “And then back here, tucked out of the way...” He stepped back and let her walk through the archway of trees over the path first, watching as she stopped and stared at the open expanse of grass lined with red twine.

  “This is my favorite bit,” Jacob said, coming up behind him.

  Carrie glanced back at them, her brow crinkled. “What is it?”

  “A vegetable garden,” Nate said, grinning.

  “It’ll be so great,” Jacob added. “We can grow all the veg we need for the menus, more or less. Definitely if Nate gets his greenhouse.”

  “How much is this all going to cost?” Carrie asked, and Nate winced.

  “Less than my kitchen will,” Jacob said, his voice cheery.

  “Depends how we do it,” Nate said. “We can start small, see how it goes. That way the garden bits won’t cost too much at any one time. We can wait a bit on the new greenhouse–the one round the back is okay for now.” If he ignored the broken panes of glass, anyway.

  Jacob stepped back up the path, and Nate made to follow. “It’s the next bit that’s going to be really expensive,” Jacob said, and Nate groaned.

  “Not quite how I was going to sell it,” he muttered as he passed Jacob. Jacob just grinned.

  Carrie still wasn’t smiling, though, when he glanced around to check she was following. “Look, I can see the potential in principle, but at the moment, with so many other things...”

  “Just...” Nate interrupted, then bit the inside of his cheek and started again. “Just for five minutes, forget what you think Anna will say about it, and concentrate on what you want for the Avalon, long term.”

  Carrie blinked at him, slowly. “Have you been talking to Cyb?”

  “What?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Carrie shook her head. “Okay, forget about Anna. I can do that.”

  “Although, actually,” Jacob said, looking amused at the irony, “I reckon she’ll love this next bit.”

  * * * *

  Carrie followed Nate and Jacob up the path, already anxious. Yes, Nate’s plans looked good and would help out in a small way with the way the inn was run. But if they couldn’t afford to put them in place early and to full capacity, it wasn’t going to make a lot of difference in the short term.

  And it was all very well telling her to forget about Anna, but Nate had never worked for Anna. He didn’t understand. Anna didn’t do forgotten. She had twisted her way into every last aspect of Carrie’s life, and then persuaded her it was meant to be that way.

  Carrie sighed. She’d be the first to admit she didn’t know a lot about gardening, but Carrie did know plants took time to grow. Probably longer to flower, and even longer to provide anything edible. And however little it cost, it still wasn’t going to be worth more than she could sell the land for.

  She didn’t want to, of course. And the inn needed a certain amount of greenspace around it, or it lost a lot of its appeal. But the areas Nate had cordoned off for his plans were far enough away from the main house that they’d never be missed, and the tree line between them and the Avalon meant whatever they were used for wouldn’t be seen from the inn.

  Which was probably why he’d chosen them, she realized. And why they were now leading her to the only other place that fit that description, the green lawn beyond the tree line behind the inn.

  It would be a shame to lose that spot, Carrie knew. The flowerbeds around its edge burst forth with color and fragrance in the summer, and the grass was luscious and perfect for sunbathing. But it was also probably the most lucrative bit of land she owned.

  Her only concern was its proximity to the inn. Once a guest came out of the terrace doors at the back, there was only the smaller grassy patch before a thin row of trees. There was even a decent gap in the center of the tree line to allow access to the field. They’d have to beef up the number of trees if they wanted to hide whatever ended up there.

  It was a worry. And it might be a terrible move. But Mr. Norton said he could get a really good offer on that patch of land
, and surely it was better to sacrifice it for the good of the inn?

  “Close your eyes,” Nate said, as they rounded the side of the Avalon.

  Carrie pulled a face. “I’m really not going to do that.”

  Smirking, Nate reached out and put a hand over her eyes. “Trust me,” he said, wrapping his other arm around her waist to help guide her.

  Carrie could hear Jacob behind them, but her senses were much more concerned with the warmth of Nate’s skin where it touched her, the softness of his shirt against her arm and the hush of his breath next to her ear.

  “It’s not like I don’t know where we’re going,” she pointed out, trying to distract herself from Nate’s nearness. “It’s the south lawn, right? I should tell you, that’s probably worth more than the Avalon itself.”

  “All the more reason not to sell it,” Nate said.

  “It’s too close to the inn, anyway,” Jacob added, and Carrie felt him brush past her right side to go on ahead. When he spoke again, he sounded farther away. “You’d see whatever they built there from the dining room.”

  “I meant to ask you about that,” Carrie said, swallowing when Nate’s grip around her waist tightened as she stubbed her toe against a stone. “Could we plant more trees there? Hide it?”

  “If you want to spend a fortune on mature trees,” he answered. “Or wait a few decades for them to grow up.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  Nate stopped moving, and kept his hold on her to stop her as well. “It doesn’t need to be,” he said, his voice very close and his words warm in her ear. “Because you’re not going to want to sell, once you see this.”

  He moved his hand from her eyes, and Carrie blinked in the daylight. Ahead of her, stood the empty lawn. “I’m not really sure...”

  “Look closer,” Nate said, and released her waist.

  Carrie stepped forward.

  There, just in from the four corners of the lawn, were four pegs, each tied together by the now familiar red twine. And, smack in the center of the grass next to a beaming Jacob, was an easel, which looked remarkably similar to the one usually at home in the inn lobby.

  She glanced back at Nate, who was smiling smugly. “Go on,” he said.

  Apparently this was part of the master plan after all, and not just a weird oversight.

  Carrie did as she was told, and moved over to the easel. Jacob stepped aside to let her get closer, and she peered at the single A4 printout pinned to the board.

  “What do you think?” Nate asked from behind her, too close again.

  “I think Jacob’s right. This is more expensive.” Of course, it could also be exactly what she needed to win Selena over.

  “We could always hire one, to start. Pass the cost on to the client, of course.” Nate reached out and tapped the printed box detailing the measurements. “It’s a perfect fit, even with heaters.”

  “And it’s close enough to the kitchens to work,” Jacob put in. “Or there’s space for a catering tent with heated trays just behind it.”

  Carrie stepped back again, and looked at the field with new eyes. This time, she didn’t see the fading flowerbeds, or the soft grass. And for the first time, she didn’t even see a building site, someone else’s land and someone else’s dreams.

  Instead, she saw a bright white marquee, filled with music and food and high spirits.

  She saw the answer to Aunt Selena’s extra thirty guests.

  Chapter 7

  Two weeks later, the Avalon was almost unrecognizable from the ramshackle inn she’d found on her arrival. Standing on the front steps, Carrie waited for Ruth’s family, and please God, this time, the prospective groom. Either side of her, Nate’s flowerbeds were still blooming bright pink, but tempered by some pale white lobelia spreading out to fill the gaps, and dimming the luminous quality of the pink. Above the flowerbeds, the new windows, while hugely expensive, kept the feel of the building with their dark gray leading and, more importantly, kept out the wind. Behind them, new curtains, new carpets and a few carefully selected pieces of new furniture were ready and waiting to wow.

  And most importantly, Anna had called the night before to say she couldn’t make it. She had utmost confidence in Carrie, anyway, she’d said. Carrie had glowed, just a little bit, at that.

  “Any sign?” Nate’s head appeared over her shoulder, as he peered down the driveway.

  “Not yet.” Carrie sighed. She should probably be doing something more productive than just waiting. She contemplated checking The List again, but decided she couldn’t bear it.

  Nate stepped around her, and hopped down the steps onto the gravel driveway. “Well, we’re ready for them when they do get here.”

  “I hope so.” Carrie dropped to sit on the top step, her binder and notes resting on her knee.

  “Of course we are.” Nate looked affronted at the suggestion. She supposed he had a right. Everyone had put in a phenomenal amount of work everyone over the past few weeks, but Nate had done more than most.

  They waited in companionable silence, Carrie running through her talking points in her head, until Jacob stuck his head out the barroom window.

  “Are these people habitually late?” he asked, flushed red and looking rather cross. “Because that’s the sort of thing you should warn a chef about, you know.”

  Carrie winced. Jacob had been talking about precise timings and cooking schedules for several days, and she’d tried to listen, really she had. It was just pretty dull, and she had bigger concerns. “Will the food be all right?”

  Jacob looked even more offended. “The food will be magnificent. Not least because I know rich people are always late, and made a last-minute adjustment to the cooking schedule this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Although, if they’re not here in half an hour...”

  “Are they running late?” Cyb asked, popping up next to Jacob in the window.

  “Apparently,” Nate said, shading his eyes to look up at her. In the sunlight, his dark hair shone, and his skin turned a shade or two darker. And against the backdrop of the Welsh mountain view, he somehow looked even taller than normal.

  Carrie blinked. Not what she should be focusing on. “I’m sure they’ll be here any moment now.”

  “What sort of car do they drive?” Izzie asked from behind her. Carrie turned to her erstwhile receptionist and wondered if having Izzie on the front desk today would prove to be a mistake. Too late now, anyway.

  “I expect we’ll find out when they arrive,” she said, adding a hint of so get back to your desk to her voice.

  Izzie carried on regardless. “Only, Henry the part-time barman just called from the village to say there was some huge four-by-four thing clogging up High Street. Wondered if it might be them.”

  Groaning, Carrie got to her feet. Of course they’d have come through the village. The Avalon Inn stood just outside the town of Coed-y-Capel, and just before the village of Felinfach. There was a perfectly serviceable dual carriageway past Coed-y-Capel that let off just before the Avalon driveway. So of course they’d have come through the village instead. “Almost certainly. And that means they’ll be here any moment, I’m sure.”

  Nate gave her a wicked grin. “Places, everyone,” he said. “The show’s about to start.”

  As the bar window closed and Izzie scooted back behind her desk, they heard the telltale noise of wide tires on gravel.

  Carrie stood, transfixed by the approaching vehicle, every single point and question on her list forgotten. What the hell was she going to show them? Tell them? How was she going to convince...

  Nate stepped forward, cupped a hand over her shoulder, and suddenly everything came back into focus. Carrie took a deep breath and met his eyes.

  “Good luck,” he said, but in his face she saw more: reassurance, belief and a touch of concern. “I’ll be down on the south lawn if you need me.”

  Carrie shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you on the tour.”

  Nate nod
ded and stepped away.

  Carrie watched him go, and almost forgot about the car coming up the driveway.

  “Carrie!” One hand clutching her fiance’s, Ruth stepped down from Uncle Patrick’s ridiculously oversized car and dashed toward her. Carrie, in turn, braced herself for an overenthusiastic hug. Ruth was always desperate to remember she had family members she actually liked after forced proximity to her parents.

  “Wine’s chilling,” she whispered to her cousin.

  “Good. Because I’m not going to make it through dinner without it,” Ruth murmured back. Just the sort of mood she wanted her bride in, Carrie thought.

  Pasting on a smile, she turned her attention to the rest of the group. “It’s lovely to see you all. Won’t you step inside?” Carrie moved aside to let them pass, concentrating on observing their apparent states of mind.

  Graeme, Ruth’s intended, hovered at the back, looking like he might bolt, until Ruth grabbed hold and tucked her hand through his arm. Then he smiled, weakly, eyes on his shoes more than the inn. Not good.

  Uncle Patrick gave Carrie a warm hug on the steps, but Aunt Selena only managed a vague smile as she passed, keeping a good foot of air between her and her husband. Uncle Patrick wasn’t going to give Carrie anything she hadn’t earned, even if Selena agreed to it. He hadn’t got rich by giving money away, he always said. Still, Uncle Patrick doted on his only daughter. And the idea of making all his guests trek from around the country up to the wilds of North Wales would appeal to him. He liked making people work for the benefits of his wealth.

  “Good morning, and welcome to the Avalon Inn,” Izzie said, smiling broadly from behind the reception desk. The sunlight streaming through the doorway lit up her blond hair, and Uncle Patrick suddenly looked a good deal more engaged with the visit. Carrie bit back a smile. Perhaps having Izzie on reception today wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Well, it certainly looks brighter in here,” Selena said, apparently unaware of her husband’s new interest.

  “It’s stunning,” Ruth added, spinning around in the center. “I can’t even really tell what you’ve done, but whatever it was...”