“Quite the voice,” Ruth said, appearing at her side and handing her a glass of champagne. “Drink this.”
Carrie did as she was told, but the cold bubbles going down her throat did nothing to temper the heat rising in her body.
“I learned something very interesting about Singing Boy this evening,” Ruth said, sipping from her glass. “Did you know he spent a summer here when he was a teenager?”
“Dad just told me,” Carrie murmured, her attention still on the stage.
Ruth squealed and bounced on her heels beside her, which was finally enough to draw Carrie’s attention away from Nate for a moment. “What?”
“So, was it him?” Ruth asked. “Really? The famous kiss on the terrace?”
Carrie sighed, and turned back to Nate. “I think so.” Suddenly he looked so familiar, and she could feel his hand on her back as they danced on the terrace fourteen years ago.
“Does he know?” Ruth sounded utterly fascinated.
Carrie shrugged. “I guess I’m going to find out,” she said as Nate brought the song to a close, his gaze never moving from hers. She took a breath and stepped forward. It was time to resolve this at last.
Ruth clapped her on the back, and took away her half full glass of champagne. “Good luck!”
But as Carrie approached the stage, watching Nate step down toward her, Izzie came dashing in from the side door.
“Jake, Nate, you’ve got to come now,” Izzie said, breathless. “It’s your gran.”
* * * *
Knowing this was his last shot, Nate had sung his bloody heart out on the stage. Sure, it had been embarrassing as all hell, but if Carrie was as stubborn as her grandmother, and all the evidence suggested she was, she wouldn’t have listened listen any other way. At least now, she couldn’t hide from his feelings, even if she didn’t feel the same.
He’d smiled when he’d seen her approach the stage, just as the band had finished up their final notes. Perhaps, against all odds, something might actually go right for once, he’d thought.
Then Izzie had dashed in, and all thoughts of love and romance had gone completely out of his head.
“Where is she?” he gasped as he raced through the lobby, Jacob and Izzie just behind him. He knew a crowd followed them, but he didn’t know or care who was in it.
“Reception,” Izzie replied between heavy breaths.
Reception turned out to be a bit of an overstatement. “What happened?” Nate asked his gran, when he found her propped up on the steps down to the driveway. “Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Oh, honestly, Nate. Don’t make such a fuss. I’m probably fine.” But the gray tinge to Moira’s face and the way she was clutching at his hand too tightly told him she was lying.
Nate glanced up at Stan in the doorway, who nodded and said, “Paramedics are on their way.”
“It’s probably just a sprain.” Moira gasped and winced as she tried to move her ankle. “Stupid, really. Just wasn’t looking where I was going and slipped down the steps. Could have happened to anyone.”
“Yes, but it happened to you,” Nate said, trying to support her upper body more comfortably, without moving her lower body. He wouldn’t have moved her at all if she hadn’t been trying to stand all by herself when he’d arrived.
Carrie was kneeling on the other side of the steps, he realized suddenly, holding Moira’s other hand. Jacob sat on the stairs behind her, one arm around Izzie, his face pale. “Can I get you anything? Some water?”
“Brandy would be good,” Moira muttered, and Carrie glanced up at Jacob, who said, “I’ll bring water.”
“Are you cold?” Carrie went on. “Do you need a blanket?” Nate closed his eyes and thanked the world in general for giving him Carrie Archer.
Before Moira could answer, they all heard the sound of wailing sirens approaching up the long, winding driveway. Flashing lights started blinking through the trees, and before Nate even really knew what was happening, his gran was on a stretcher, being loaded into the ambulance and he was climbing in behind.
Carrie grabbed his arm, and he turned. “Do you want me to follow in the car?” she asked. “You’ll need someone to bring you home.”
Nate shook his head. “You’ve still got a party to throw.” But all around the ambulance, people were getting into their cars.
“I think it might be over,” Carrie said with a small smile.
“Still.” Nate squeezed her hand. “Finish up here. Jacob’s going to drive up behind us. He’ll bring me back.” Except Jacob would have to get home to Georgia soon, probably before Nate would be willing to leave the hospital, and taxis in Coed-y-Capel were notoriously unreliable. But hopefully Carrie wouldn’t know that, so she wouldn’t worry, and he would just sleep in a hospital chair if it meant he was there for his gran if she needed anything. “I’ve got to go.”
Carrie nodded and let go of his hand, and the paramedics closed the door behind him. Nate sat back, as close to Gran as they’d let him, and wondered how he’d thought, even for a moment, things might be about to go his way.
* * * *
Three hours later, as the clock ticked over to two in the morning, Nate shifted on his chair, opened his eyes and saw Carrie sitting beside him.
She gave him a gentle, apologetic smile and said softly, “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come wait with you, instead. Jacob gone home to Georgia?”
“Yeah.” Nate shifted again, the plastic hard and unforgiving under his thighs, and turned to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“How is she?” Carrie asked, tucking her head against his collar bone.
“Broken ankle,” Nate said. “Doctors said she’s lucky it wasn’t her hip. They’ve plastered her up, and just want to keep her in tonight to make sure she’s okay. Then I get to take her home and act as nursemaid for the next six weeks.” Which wasn’t as unappealing as it might have sounded. Moira played a mean game of Scrabble and tended to stockpile biscuits in the under-stairs cupboard.
“I’m sure the Seniors will give you a hand. And Jacob, of course. We all will. We’ll set up a rota.” For all that she’d said she couldn’t sleep, Carrie sounded like she might pass out on his shoulder. Nate tugged her closer to his body.
“Knowing Gran, she’ll hate it anyway. She can’t stand being looked after.” Nate sighed. “They said they’d lend us a wheelchair, which might help. At least she’ll be able to get out and about.”
“Guess we’ll need to look into better wheelchair access at the inn sooner rather than later,” Carrie agreed, then yawned. “Sorry.”
Nate felt his shoulders twinge. This was ridiculous. “Look, the doctors said she’ll be out until morning. Why don’t we head home and get some sleep. I can come back first thing with my car to pick her up.”
Carrie gave a sleepy nod. “If you’re sure.”
Nate tugged her to her feet and went to give the nurses’ station every possible number he could be reached on, if Gran needed him for anything.
Twenty minutes later, as they pulled in at the Avalon, Nate driving because Carrie couldn’t keep her eyes open, he had a flash of how the night had been supposed to end. With a sigh, he gave Carrie a gentle shake to wake her up and said, “We’re home.”
Carrie blinked up at him through half closed lashes, and Nate wondered if she’d even make it up all the stairs to the attic room. He paused a moment before opening the car door, feeling every bone weary ache that had set up camp in his body. More to the point, could he make it down to the summerhouse? Suddenly, the five-minute walk loomed ahead like a two-day hike.
“Right,” Carrie said, gearing herself for movement. Then, in a sudden burst of energy that Nate found himself envying, she opened the car door, got out and turned back to look at him still inside. “Come on,” she said, with a warm smile. “You’ll never make it all the way to yours. Come and crash with me in the attic. You can help me with the stairs.”
Even though he knew they were both too ti
red to do anything except sleep and he’d probably have to leave for the hospital before she woke up, the prospect of a few hours sleep wrapped around Carrie Archer in her cluttered attic room made the whole day just a little bit better.
Chapter 11
Carrie awoke late the next morning, alone, but surprisingly refreshed. Glancing over at her alarm clock, she saw a small square of notebook paper propped in front it, pulled it closer and read, Gone to get Gran. Thanks. N. X
Not a man of many words, it seemed. But boy, the guy could sing.
Carrie stretched out in the bed, before glancing at the now-uncovered clock face and sitting up fast enough to make her head spin. She had less than two weeks left until the wedding, she was down one gardener, and the bride-to-be, for all that she was her best friend, would decapitate her with her bouquet of imported lavender roses if she didn’t get downstairs and start finalizing the plans for the stag and hen nights.
Hauling herself out of bed to the shower, she realized she was still smiling anyway.
At some point, Carrie thought, as she headed down the stairs, she’d have to talk to Nate about their teenage kiss, if only for her own piece of mind. It hadn’t really seemed the time, the night before. But she had to know. When had he realized who she was? Before she’d even arrived?
She suspected so. It would explain the first night’s kiss on the terrace, anyway.
At the foot of the main staircase, Carrie bumped into Ruth, exiting the dining room with a cup of coffee. Ruth broke into a wide smile when she saw her, and before Carrie knew it she was being dragged into the drawing room for girl chat.
“Can’t I go get breakfast first?” she pleaded as Ruth shoved her into a chair. “Or coffee?”
“You know Jacob’s bound to show up with some, once Izzie tells him you’re up.” Ruth settled into the chair opposite. “We have more important things to discuss.”
Carrie picked up her clipboard from where Ruth had tossed it onto the table. “Absolutely. Now, the stag and hen nights. I think we need to think about...”
Ruth waved a hand. “Never mind that for now. Much more importantly, I happened to be up very early this morning...”
Which explained a lot, Carrie thought. “How many cups of coffee have you actually had?” Ruth looked like she was about to vibrate off her chair.
“Six. But that’s not the point. I was up early, and as I was heading downstairs to find my first cup of coffee, I bumped into two people.”
Carrie sighed. Cryptic riddles about which party guest had spent the night where weren’t going to get the hen night sorted. “Are you sure about the Kir Royales for the hens?”
“Carrie! Listen to me.” Ruth took a deep breath, and Carrie tried to focus her attention on her friend, rather than her list. “The first person I saw was Nate, coming down the stairs from your attic.”
Carrie felt a smile threatening to break out on her face again. “Actually, it wasn’t what it looked like. I went to pick him up from the hospital, and...”
She paused as the door opened behind her. “Sweetheart? Can I have a word?” Carrie turned at the sound of her dad’s voice from the doorway, until she felt Ruth tugging at her sleeve again.
“The second person,” Ruth whispered in her ear, “was your dad.”
Her smile suddenly stiff and aching, Carrie whispered back, “Of course it was. You couldn’t have mentioned it a little sooner?”
Reluctantly, she followed her dad into reception for what she imagined would be one of the more awkward conversations of her life, even if she was rapidly approaching thirty and perfectly entitled to take anyone she liked to bed.
Tackling things head on might at least get it over with quicker, and there was no way it could be more embarrassing than hearing her dad say it.
“Look, Dad, Ruth told me you saw–”
But Peter interrupted her. “I was just coming to tell you I need to get on the road. Your mum’s expecting me back.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Carrie tucked her hands in the pockets of her suit trousers, and found her eyes drawn to the unicorn wall hanging behind the reception desk. “And I need to, uh, work. Or something.”
Peter smiled, in a knowing, Dad sort of a way. “Nate seems to have grown up into a very responsible man.”
“He just... I gave him a lift back from the hospital last night, and he was too tired to walk down to the summerhouse.” The words came out in a rush, sounding more improbable in the morning light that they had in the dark of the night.
“And you seem very fond of him.” Peter smoothed a hand over her hair. “I just wanted to see that you were happy, sweetheart. That they were looking after you out here.”
“And now you’re satisfied?”
“And now I’m satisfied.” With a final kiss to the top of her head, her dad moved away and picked up the bag and coat sitting on one of the new lobby chairs. “I’ll have a word with that boss of yours, too. Tell her not to worry. You’ve got everything under control here.”
Carrie didn’t think Anna was really spending much time worrying about her. More, finding ways to screw her over. Still, it couldn’t hurt. “Thanks, Dad. And I’ll see you and Mum soon, for Ruth’s wedding.”
Peter nodded, then he was out the door and striding off to his car in the sunlight, leaving Carrie alone again.
Ruth stuck her head out of the drawing room. “By the way? I had a thought about the soundtrack for the hen night. Do the rooms have surround sound built in?”
Perhaps not quite alone. With a sigh, Carrie went to explain the concept of refurbishing in stages to her cousin. Again.
* * * *
By the middle of her second week home from hospital, Nate knew his gran was already bored out of her mind. She was certainly driving him out of his. Jacob had managed one afternoon of watching both Moira and Georgia and declared it had to be one or the other. And since he had no desire to watch Hurricane Georgia, Nate got stuck with his gran. So he called Cyb.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked, his coat already half on as he let Cyb into Moira’s house.
Cyb hoisted a plastic bag full of supplies and waggled it at him. “I’ve got cards, chocolate gingers and Strictly Ballroom on DVD. Should keep us going for an hour or two.”
While two hours out of the house sounded like bliss, Nate wasn’t sure it was going to be quite enough. “Carrie’s got the stag and hen nights tonight... I’m not sure how long she’s going to need me.”
Cyb waved him away toward the door. “Don’t worry. I’ve got Stan coming over at eleven with one of his nephews’ cars. Should be big enough to get the wheelchair in. We’ll all be up there to help for a few hours before the hordes descend.”
Nate paused in the doorway, wondering if three senior citizens, one in a foul mood and a wheelchair, were really going to provide the ambience Ruth and Graeme were looking for at their celebrations. Then he remembered how much they’d achieved before Carrie had even known they were helping, and let it go. “Fantastic. See you up there.”
By the time he reached the Avalon Inn, hens were already arriving. The plan, as Nate understood it, was for the girls to check into their rooms and get the one limo in the county to take them down to the luxury day spa Ruth had fallen in love with. Then they were back to the bridal suite for too much alcohol, snacks and weepy movies. Nate had big plans for avoiding as much of this as possible.
Luckily, that shouldn’t be too hard, as Carrie had put him in charge of supervising the Avalon-based part of the stag night. The guys’ schedule had them starting off with paintballing at an outdoor center a few miles away, then sampling the delights of Coed-y-Capel’s pubs. Nate figured by the time they made it back to the Avalon and became his responsibility, they were going to be plastered, and in need of black coffee and pouring into bed. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but he wouldn’t have wanted to let Carrie do it, either.
“Nate!” Ruth bounced down the steps of the inn toward him, dressed entirel
y in pink, followed by a collection of other girls, all in varying shades of cerise. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Cyb and Stan are watching Gran.” He shrugged. “I felt your need was greater.”
Ruth laughed, a low and dirty chuckle. “Liar. She driving you crazy already?”
To Nate’s relief Carrie appeared in the doorway before he was required to answer that question. “You made it,” she said, and the smile on her face made a lot of things more bearable. “Will your gran be all right?”
“I think you can expect to see her and her temporary carers up here later, desperate to help.” Nate moved past Ruth to the inn steps. He could feel himself echoing Carrie’s slightly foolish grin, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.
“I’ll take all the help I can get,” Carrie said, her smile slipping, and Nate suddenly realized how tired she looked.
“Then put me to work,” he said, just to make her smile come back.
It did. “Come with me.”
Three hours later, the bridal suite looked like a Russian millionaire’s daughter’s sweet sixteen party, the bar was stocked with every drink under the sun, and Nate was wondering exactly when in the next forty-eight hours he would find the time to put up an eight foot Christmas tree in the lobby, and get the gardens into a fit state for the wedding photos. Ruth was hoping for a crisp, sunny day, he knew, to make full use of the new terrace. Nate was secretly hoping for snow, to cover up the bare spots in the beds and the weeds he hadn’t had a chance to pull up. It didn’t seem very likely, though.
Deciding that with a bit of caffeine he might be able to keep going for another hour or two, Nate stuck his head into the kitchen, looking for Jacob.
“I think the sausage and bacon butties are still the best idea.” Carrie stood at the kitchen counter, looking even more tired than Nate felt. “Anything to mop up the alcohol.”
Room for Love Page 21
