A whole lot of time, money and effort, Carrie thought, but didn’t say. If people wanted to believe Carrie had magical decor powers, she was all for it.
“Thank you,” she said, instead. “We really wanted the inn to reflect your style, for your wedding.” A half-truth, really. Carrie wanted the inn to reflect her style, but that wasn’t miles away from Ruth’s, anyway.
Patrick was already introducing himself to Izzie at the counter, and it appeared, from the rather sour look on Selena’s face, his wife had finally noticed his interest. Time to move on.
“If you’d all like to come with me through to the drawing room...” Carrie said, holding the door open for them so they’d have no option but to go through. As she turned to follow them, she nodded at Izzie in a way she hoped the receptionist would remember meant bring coffee.
They were an odd-looking family, Carrie thought, taking her seat. Serena’s tall, willowy blondeness, tempered in Ruth with Patrick’s shorter stature, meant their daughter was petite, with bright yellow hair and her father’s hazel eyes. Their newest member to be, Graeme, sat as close to his fiancee as he could physically manage, with Patrick on his other side. Still nervous around the in-laws, she’d bet. Carrie tucked the realization away unless it proved useful later.
Shuffling her papers, Carrie started into her talk. “Thank you all for coming to the Avalon Inn today. I really hope what we have to show you will convince you that the Avalon is the best place for this very important day.”
“Very expensive day,” Patrick joked, digging an elbow in Graeme’s ribs.
Carrie ploughed on. “Now, obviously Ruth and I have been working on the wedding details–”
“They’ve been planning it since they were six,” Patrick put in. Carrie ignored him.
“So I have a pretty good idea of the sort of setup you were looking for. As such, we’ve tried to prepare the inn in a manner sympathetic to what you hope for the day. That said, any changes you would like to make, of course, please let us know.” All business, that was the way to go. Forget they were family, focus on the details.
They all nodded, and Carrie allowed herself a very small feeling of relief. Maybe she would make it through the day after all.
“I also understand there may be some additions to the guest list,” Carrie said neutrally.
Selena glared at her husband. “Apparently so.”
Patrick glared back. “Twenty of them are your family!”
“Anyway,” Carrie broke in, keen to keep things civil, at least, “I just wanted to let you know that we think we may have a solution for that, too. But we’ll come to that at the end of the tour.”
Then, since coffee was clearly not coming, Carrie jotted a note to talk to Izzie about signals later, and led the party into the dining room.
An hour later, things were going better than Carrie had even dared hope. Ruth and Selena still loved the dining room set up, with its charity shop china and up-cycled lace tablecloths. Graeme and Uncle Patrick had looked on, bemused, but apparently decided they’d leave this one to the girls.
“Can we get a band?” Graeme asked, staring at the stage.
“Certainly,” Carrie promised, scribbling herself a note to check on the inn’s entertainment license. She knew Nancy used to have one; she just hoped it was still current. This was the first sign she’d seen that Graeme had any intention of even showing up to the wedding. “What sort of music were you thinking?”
“Has to be big band,” Patrick jumped in. “Only thing worth dancing to.”
“It would go with the china,” Selena added.
Carrie nodded. “I’ll see if I can get you some recommendations.”
The first big bone of contention came in the bridal suite.
“If I’m paying for this whole shindig, I think I should at least get to sleep where I like.” Patrick gave Cyb’s huge wooden four-poster a covetous look.
“And who, exactly, are you planning on sleeping in it with?” Selena asked, ice in her voice.
Graeme sidestepped over to Carrie and murmured in her ear, “I don’t suppose you could find another one of those?”
Carrie shook her head. “Afraid not. It’s one-of-a-kind.” Much like its owner, she added silently, once again wondering how she would ever have got this far without Cyb and the other Seniors, not to mention Nate. So much for standing on her own two feet for a change.
“But, Daddy! It’s my wedding night,” Ruth said, in what Carrie recognized as her best ‘working her father’ voice.
“Right then,” Graeme said, and took a deep breath before stepping forward. “Patrick, Selena,” he said, his voice louder, firmer and deeper than Carrie had heard all day. “I think it would be helpful at this time if we remembered exactly whose wedding this is—Ruth’s and mine.”
“And I think you should remember who’s paying for it, son.” Uncle Patrick’s face was turning a rather violent shade of red.
Graeme smiled, and for the first time, Carrie could see why Ruth found him attractive. Nate had a very similar smile. “If money is all that’s at stake, I’m more than happy to pay for it. I might not be as rich as you, but I’m a professional with a good job. I can take care of your daughter. And I intend to make sure she has the wedding she’s always dreamed of–not whatever party you want to throw to show off.”
Carrie bit her lip to stop from speaking, and Ruth moved from her mother’s side to stand next to Graeme. “Besides,” she said, smiling up at her fiance. “If we don’t have to pay for all your friends to attend, it’ll be a lot cheaper, I’m sure.”
Aunt Selena blinked very quickly, and the color drained from Uncle Patrick’s face. “Well,” he said, blustering. “I don’t know how we got onto the subject of money, anyway. I was just admiring this bed, was all.”
The tension in the room dropped slightly, and Carrie stepped into what was left of the fray. “What about a compromise?” she suggested, her voice mild. “Your parents could stay here tonight, Ruth, to...try out the bed. Then you can use it for the hen night, the night before the wedding, and the wedding night itself.”
She glanced over and Graeme, who gave a slight nod, and Ruth brightened immediately. Uncle Patrick rolled his eyes. “I suppose so,” he said. But, as they started to leave the suite, he cornered Carrie and asked, “I don’t suppose you’d let me buy that bed off you, would you? After the wedding, of course.”
For a fleeting moment, Carrie tried to guess how much he’d be willing to pay for it, and what the Avalon Inn would do with the money. Then she shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. You see, it’s on permanent loan from a supporter of the Avalon Inn, and she’s really very fond of it.”
Patrick glanced into the room for a last look at the bed. “I’d like to meet the woman who owned a bed like that.”
Carrie smiled. “Well, you’re in luck. I think she’s downstairs.” Although she wasn’t sure Cyb was really what her uncle had in mind.
* * * *
They finished their tour in the gardens. Graeme seemed interested in the plans for the vegetable garden, at least, but Ruth and Selena both looked utterly unconvinced by Nate’s cutting garden.
“And you’d do the flowers. Here.” Selena frowned. “Really. How...interesting.”
Carrie could see the thought of her Ecuadorian Cool Water lavender roses on Ruth’s face, even though her cousin kept bravely quiet. Carrie decided to put her out of her misery. “Of course, I know Ruth has some specific desires for her flowers, so it might be best to stick with Anna’s planned florist for them. With the wedding being in December, we’ll have a limited selection of blooms anyway, but we can certainly provide some nice seasonal arrangements for the bedrooms and bar.”
“Sounds good to me,” Uncle Patrick said, obviously keen to move on. “Now, is that it?”
Carrie smiled. “Just one more thing.” Leading them down the path toward the field at the back of the inn, she said, “Remember I told you we had an idea for if you needed a larger recep
tion space?”
“The thirty extra guests,” Graeme said, and Carrie knew from his tone he had no idea who any of the people his future in-laws wanted to invite were, or why they would want to see him make his wedding vows.
“Exactly.” Carrie paused before they turned the corner of the inn. “Obviously, if your numbers remain as they are, you’re more than welcome to use the main dining room. I know how taken you were with the set up in there.” Ruth smiled, and Carrie went on, “But just in case, we wanted to give you another option.”
With that, she waved a hand around the corner, and the string quartet started up with Pachelbel’s Canon. It was cliche, Carrie knew, but she suspected cliche would appeal to Patrick and Selena. “After you,” she said, stepping back to let them through.
It looked better than Carrie had imagined it could. The marquee, hired for the day, shone bright white, even in the weak late afternoon sunlight. It had been a risk, laying out that much cash just to impress them, but Stan had got her a deal from one of his apparently numerous nephews, and it was worth it just to see the stunned look on her guests’ faces. And they hadn’t even seen inside yet.
“There are heaters, of course. December will be very chilly,” Carrie said, keeping her tone professional. No reason to let them know this sort of thing was in any way out of the ordinary at the Avalon Inn. “Why don’t you take a look inside?”
At the entrance to the marquee, Cyb had strung ribbons around the potted bay trees from her garden, and Nate had run left over fairy lights around the doorway, then through the trees either side. With dusk just starting to fall, they twinkled like sequins on a vintage dress–a touch of sparkle, but not enough to distract from the surroundings.
Inside, Jacob had set up a long serving table with heated trays and chilled wine. Apparently whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen had reached perfection, as he was still smiling.
“If you’d like to take a seat,” he said, motioning to the single round table in the middle of the marquee, laid with the same lace tablecloths and vintage china as the dining room, and surrounded by high-level heaters. “Your waiter will be with you now.”
Nate stepped forward, decked out in a tux he’d found from somewhere or other and poured the first glasses of champagne. And when Patrick looked over and said, “Carrie, why don’t you join us?” she knew it was all going to be a success.
With a sigh of relief, Carrie sank into the optimistically laid extra place, let Nate pour her a glass of champagne and pretended she didn’t feel his hand give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed.
* * * *
They retired to the bar after the meal, where Izzie served them cheerfully and put up with Uncle Patrick’s smiles and looks without comment. Carrie left poor Graeme being interrogated by Selena about exactly how much he made in his professional life and dragged Ruth off to view the terrace again, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard.
The air on the terrace smelled sharp and clear, and Ruth leaned against the possibly rotting wood and breathed in deeply, while Carrie hung back in the pool of light from the dining room, watching her.
“So?” she asked, withholding her cousin’s glass of wine until she answered.
“It’s wonderful, Carrie,” Ruth said, turning to smile at her, and Carrie handed her the alcohol with some relief. Ruth couldn’t lie convincingly to save her life. She liked it, Carrie was sure.
“Okay. Good.” Carrie moved to stand beside her and stared out at the Avalon grounds. If she squinted, she could almost see Nate’s summerhouse. “It’s everything you wanted?”
Ruth nodded, and said, “Absolutely. Especially now I know for sure that Graeme really wants to marry me.”
Carrie let out a long, slow breath. “Yeah, that was starting to worry me a little bit, too. But I think he made his intentions pretty clear today.”
“Yeah,” Ruth said, staring dreamily out into the dark.
“And what were you two whispering about at dinner, anyway?”
“The honeymoon.” Ruth’s smile turned naughty. “He’s got it all planned out, Carrie, and it’s going to be perfect. It’s like you said. He can’t wait to be married to me. He’s just not got much patience for the wedding itself.”
“Or your parents,” Carrie added.
“Exactly.” Turning to Carrie with an even more wicked grin, Ruth said, “So, this is the famous terrace, then?”
“Famous? You saw it earlier, Ruth.” Carrie pulled a face. “I think we can agree there isn’t anything glamorous about this terrace yet. Although, obviously, by Christmas Eve it will be–”
Ruth interrupted her with a roll of her eyes. “I meant the famous site of your oft-described first kiss.”
Carrie blinked. “When did I tell you about that?”
“Endlessly, when we were fifteen.” Ruth grinned. “In your defense, it wasn’t as if we had any other experiences with boys to discuss.”
She did remember long nights curled up on twin beds in the Pink Room talking about every moment of their lives, Carrie supposed. It was only natural it would have come up. “Oh. Well, yes. This is where it happened.”
Ruth threw an arm out along the terrace railing in an expansive gesture. “I can picture it now–you with that awful hair cut, him covered in spots...”
“You do realize we’re not fifteen any more, right?”
“You, dancing alone to the music inside. Him, sweeping you up in his arms, singing in each other’s ears while you danced...” Carrie could almost hear the music as Ruth spoke. “And then, he leans down and–”
“I’m never telling you anything again,” Carrie said, and Ruth laughed, high and bright and happy.
“Bit late now,” she said, but she stopped talking and Carrie sipped at her wine and allowed herself to start to relax. She had nothing else to do that night, no more convincing to do. It was going to be okay.
“What happened to Anna today, anyway?” Ruth asked, after a long moment’s companionable silence. “Not that I’ve been missing her or anything.”
“She couldn’t make it. Said she trusted me to take care of everything.” Carrie smiled at the memory. Anna might not always be the nicest boss, but she was successful. And she thought Carrie could do this. That mattered.
“Oh. Well, that’s good, I suppose.”
“Yes,” Carrie reassured her cousin. “It really is. Now, let’s go save your fiance from your mother before he changes his mind.”
“Never happen,” Ruth said with what sounded like absolute surety. But she followed Carrie back into the bar all the same.
It was gone midnight before Ruth, Graeme, Patrick and Selena finally retired to their assigned bedrooms, well-fed and dosed up on champagne, wine and liquor. If nothing else, Carrie thought, it had given her an insight into how much to order for the bar.
And by tomorrow morning she should have the money to do so. Uncle Patrick had been in no fit state to write any sort of deposit check by the time his wife dragged him up the stairs to bed. He probably wouldn’t even enjoy the wonderful four-poster he’d been so determined to stay in.
Nate caught up with her at the foot of the stairs, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck and his tuxedo jacket long since abandoned. “It went well,” he said, his voice soft. He caught the sleeve of her suit, his fingers warm through the fabric. “Better than I’d imagined.”
Carrie smiled. “It did, didn’t it?”
“This is going to work.” Nate sounded so sure, so certain, that for a moment Carrie couldn’t help but believe him. “All of it. Even Anna.”
“We’ll see,” she said, ducking her head to hide her smile.
“Trust me.” Nate bent down and tucked a finger under her chin, pulling it up again. “You’ve done wonderful things here.”
Carrie felt her shoulders relax and drop, as Nate’s other hand came up to wrap around her waist. Maybe he’d kiss her again. That would certainly help her get off to sleep.
They were silent, leaning against each
other in the darkness of the empty lobby. “You all helped,” Carrie said eventually. “I wanted to do it on my own, but...”
“You don’t have to do everything alone,” Nate said, and his voice was so low and wonderfully resonant against her body, that Carrie found herself swaying forward closer and closer to him.
“I’m starting to realize that,” she whispered.
Nate lowered his head just enough for her to catch his warm eyes. Carrie blinked and moved her gaze to his lips. They really were very close.
But then, suddenly, they were pulling away, and Nate was letting go of her waist and saying, “Well, time for you to get to bed.”
Carrie nodded, and held on to the banister for balance as his hand dropped from her arm too. “Guess so.”
Nate smiled, warm and still close enough for her to see the faint lines at the corners of his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. And he was away, through the front door, back to his summerhouse and farther away from her.
Carrie stood at the bottom of the stairs and thought about following him. Except he hadn’t invited her, had he? And she needed to be there in the morning, when her guests came down for breakfast. And she still didn’t know why he hadn’t kissed her. It’s not like he hadn’t done it before.
With a sigh, Carrie turned and made her way up the stairs toward the attic, pausing at the top of the first flight to listen to Uncle Patrick snoring away in Cyb’s old four-poster bed.
She fell asleep in Nancy’s bed, still wondering why Nate hadn’t kissed her.
* * * *
The thought lingered until the following morning when, after inhaling one of Jacob’s substantial breakfasts, Patrick handed her the deposit check, and Carrie managed to forget all about Nate Green and his lips for almost half an hour.
In fact, until Izzie said, “We should celebrate!” Then, suddenly, all Carrie could think about was exactly how she would like to celebrate with a certain gardener.
“We could have a party,” Jacob suggested, passing through with an English muffin and scrambled eggs for Carrie. “You forgot to eat breakfast again,” he said, handing it to her. For all that she was supposed to be their boss, Carrie was starting to think she was really just there to be looked after.
Room for Love Page 15
