Chapter 4

 

“Can’t we go back to meeting at the Avalon?” Cyb asked. In the corner of the Red Lion, a fruit machine paid out, resulting in flashing lights, chinking coins, tinny music and whoops of satisfaction from the crowd of young men gathered around it. The novelty of their new meeting place had most definitely worn off.

Stan gave her a stern look. “Not exactly the best way to keep our plans secret, now, is it?”

“But why do we have to be secret? We’re helping Carrie.”

Cyb looked to Moira for backup, but the other woman shook her head. “Because she’s Nancy’s granddaughter.”

Which made no sense at all. Cyb sat back in her chair and let her arms droop by her sides. “Well, I’m stumped.”

“Look at it this way,” Moira said with a gentle smile. “If you wanted Nancy to do something, even if it was for her own good, what did you have to do?”

“Pretend you wanted her to do the opposite,” Cyb answered promptly.

“And why was that?” Moira continued.

“Because she was an ornery old...” Stan started, but Moira shushed him.

“Because she always wanted to do everything herself, and do it her own way. You had to convince her everything was her own idea,” Cyb said, finally seeing where Moira was going. “You think Carrie’s the same?” And if so, she wasn’t the only one. Cyb cast a speculative glance at Stan.

Moira laughed. “From the stories Nancy used to tell, I know she is. So we need to tread carefully.”

“Fine,” Cyb said slowly. “But how do we do that?”

“Well, first we need to inform your blessed grandson of the plan,” Stan said to Moira, his voice gruff. “You know he got someone in to raise the terrace this morning? Without so much as a by-your-leave to Carrie.”

“How do you know that?” Moira asked.

“Izzie called me before you ladies got here.” He held up his aging mobile phone, which Cyb happened to know used to belong to his youngest granddaughter, as if it were the latest in modern technology. “Got to stay connected, haven’t we?”

“Did she really mind? I mean, it needed doing didn’t it?” Cyb asked, worried. After all, there was little point putting in new carpets and curtains if the whole building might fall down around them.

“Yes it did,” Moira said firmly. “It’s going to need a whole lot more doing to it, too. But at least this way it won’t have sunk into the marsh before they can get round to it.”

“And who’s going to do all that work, I’d like to know,” Stan muttered. “After Nate got rid of the builder, too.”

“She’s got a builder,” Moira told him, leaving Stan looking surprised. “Nate called some friends of his, and they’re coming out to the inn to give her a proper estimate this afternoon.” She gave Stan a sideways glance. “I imagine it was one of them at work on the terrace this morning.”

Stan stared at her, obviously not wanting to ask how she knew more than he did, until Moira pulled a considerably shinier and more streamlined phone from her handbag. “Nate keeps me informed.”

Cyb held back a fond smile. Yes, he wasn’t without his faults, but Stan was a good man. A caring, passionate man. And Harry had been gone a very long time. Maybe it was time for her to start living again, at last. Once she’d figured out a way to make Stan think it was his idea.

Stan cleared his throat, shrugged, and tried to take back control of the meeting. “Well, obviously the most important thing is that we keep the lines of communication open between ourselves. But let’s get back to the real issue. If we don’t want Carrie to know we’re helping, how are we going to help?”

“And without that awful boss of hers ever knowing we had anything to do with it,” Moira added.

They all sat in silence for a moment, considering their options.

“Well, let’s look at this logically,” Stan said, but Cyb wasn’t really listening. She was remembering how surprised Carrie had looked the night before when she’d realized how detailed their 40s night had been. How much effort they’d put in. “We want to help her, but she can’t know we’re helping...” Stan went on.

“I’ve got an idea,” Cyb interrupted, before she could think about it enough to convince herself it was a stupid idea, like so many of hers. “Carrie needs to deal with the big problems, right? Keep the inn standing.”

Stan sighed. “Yes, Cyb. That’s what we’ve been saying. So how can we help her? Moira? Any ideas?”

Moira shook her head. “I want to hear Cyb’s idea.”

Cyb couldn’t remember the last time anyone actually had wanted to hear one of her suggestions. They were happy to let her ramble on about the good old days, but when it came to things that mattered, everyone turned to Stan and Moira. But not this time. “Well, if we can’t help with the big things, we need to take care of the details, all the little things Carrie won’t have time to think of.”

There was silence, for a long moment. Cyb was just about to laugh and pretend she was joking when Stan spoke.

“Right. So. What sort of details are we talking about here? Perfumed soaps and things?”

Cyb smiled so widely she could feel new laugh lines forming. Maybe convincing Stan about other things would be just as easy. Then she started telling them the rest of her idea.

* * * *

Carrie stared at the piles in front of her and sighed.

She’d finally caved and moved into Nancy’s office, a tiny, cluttered room behind the kitchen, just about big enough for a desk and a chair. Until then, she’d only popped in long enough to grab a file or a folder she needed to compile her lists. The sheer level of disorganization made it impossible to work in there.

But she couldn’t possibly get everything done camping out in the Green Room. It was time to start taking this seriously. Beginning with clearing out the damn office so she had somewhere to work.

She’d hoped to have it done before Nate’s builder friends showed up that afternoon, but she’d barely even cleared enough space to sort papers in. Maybe she could just bin it all and start again from scratch.

Jacob brought her some coffee after she’d been working for an hour or so.

“You are a coffee god,” she told him, taking a grateful sip.

Jacob shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. “I just fill the coffee maker. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.” Carrie didn’t want to tell him she’d cried the first time she came across one of Nancy’s scrawled notes on a printed page. “I think I’ve dug out the computer, at least.” She waved her mug at the yellowing plastic hulk on the corner of the desk.

“Just think, when you finish sorting the actual files, you can see how bad Nancy was at digital filing, too.” With that, Jacob disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Carrie glaring at the computer.

When her phone rang a few minutes later, Carrie knew she’d never find it before it rang off. But since it was either Ruth returning her call or Anna calling with more demands, she had to at least look, so she started rooting around amongst the papers.

The phone, silent again by that point, finally reappeared in one of the file drawers, and when she checked the display it told her she had a missed call from Ruth, which was considerably better than the alternative.

“Carrie!” Ruth said, picking up immediately when Carrie rang back. “I’ve been trying to call you all day. Doesn’t Wales have mobile reception?”

“Apparently not,” Carrie told her cousin, dropping onto the recently cleared desk chair. “How’s the wedding planning going?”

“Mother is already driving me insane over the guest list.”

Carrie thought having Aunt Selena as a mother would have driven her insane years before, but she didn’t mention it. Ruth was amazingly forbearing. “It’s a big day for her too,” she said in a half-hearted attempt to play devil’s advocate. “It’s not every day your only child gets married.”

“Graeme keeps suggesting we elope.” Ruth sighed on the other end of the line. “I’m pretty sure he’s joking.”

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t,” Carrie said, and laughed. “And I can’t say I blame him. One thing I’ve learned from my years of wedding planning is that it’s almost never an enjoyable experience for the groom.”

“Well, I’ll have to make it up to him after all this is over,” Ruth said. “I haven’t got time to do anything that isn’t wedding-related at the moment.”

Carrie resisted the temptation to suggest that the groom was somewhat wedding-related himself. Apart from anything else, she knew from past experience that wasn’t always the case until the big day.

“Well, you have set yourself a tight deadline,” she said instead, nurturing a faint spark of hope that Ruth might decide to push the wedding back by a few months. As long as she still booked, Carrie would have both money and time to make things really special for her cousin.

But Ruth said, “And thank God I did! It’s not my ideas for the day that are the problem. It’s the way my mother keeps trying to derail everything I want. I turn my back for an instant and my color scheme has changed or my cake is going to have butterflies on it. She tried to get rid of my Ecuadorian Cool Water roses the other day.”

Ruth really wanted those roses. She’d emailed a photo of them, along with one of her engagement ring. According to the website link under the photo, they were lavender, rare, and Carrie suspected her cousin might love them more than her fiance.

“It’s not feeling like your wedding anymore,” she said sympathetically. Carrie had seen it before with particularly overbearing parents. And for Uncle Patrick and Aunt Selena, this wouldn’t just be Ruth’s big day. It would be their chance to show their little piece of society that they were richer, better connected and generally more fabulous than any of them.

Carrie wasn’t entirely sure how the Avalon Inn would fit into those plans.

Not for the first time, she gave thanks that Peter Archer had been happy with an ordinary life, rather than trying to make a million before he turned twenty-five, then marrying into money when it hadn’t happened, as his brother had done. She liked Uncle Patrick well enough, but she was still glad he was her uncle, not her father.

“That’s it exactly.” Ruth’s voice sounded a bit hysterical around the edges, and Carrie heard her gulp back a sob before she calmed down to say, “I’m sorry. You’ve got enough to worry about. I know everything will be so much better once we’ve all been up to the Avalon and Graeme can picture us really getting married there.”

Carrie glanced around Nancy’s office. She was really going to have to do more tidying.

“About that,” she said. “Do you think you might be able to come up a week on Friday?”

“Probably. I can check Graeme’s diary, see what he’s got on.” Ruth paused. “Why then?”

“Oh, no reason. I just thought...”

“Liar.”

Carrie sighed, and wished she was better at lying to family members. “Because Anna’s given me two weeks to sell this place to a bride. Otherwise she’s pulling out of the deal.”

“Not happening,” Ruth said, her voice firm. “I’ll call Graeme now, get him to cancel any meetings he has that day. We will be there, checkbook in hand, ready to book.”

Carrie felt her shoulders start to relax for the first time that morning. “Oh, thank God for that.”

“I’ll probably have to bring mother, too, I’m afraid.” Ruth sounded more regretful than apologetic.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have to bring Anna.” That was far, far worse.

* * * *

That went well, Nate congratulated himself, waving goodbye to Matt as he drove away from the inn. Matt would be the perfect builder for Carrie, and the inn. Not only would he not try to rip her off, he was clear and honest and actually explained his reasoning for the suggestions he made.

“That went well,” he said out loud, as he heard Carrie come to stand behind him.

“Mmm.”

Okay, that went well apart from Carrie’s apparent indifference, he amended.

“Did you like Matt?” he asked, unable to imagine what she could possibly have not liked about him. He was just...Matt. What you saw was what you got.

“He seems fine,” Carrie said. “I wish he could start work sooner...”

“Two weeks is pretty good going.” Nate jumped to defend his friend. “We were damn lucky he had that cancellation.” Besides, Carrie wouldn’t have had the money to pay him before then, Nate suspected.

“Oh, I know that.” Carrie looked up and gave him a half smile. “I just wish he could have started work about three months ago.”

Ah. That, Nate could understand. It might all be over and ready by now.

“So, what are you going to do for the next two weeks, then?” he asked, teasing. “Lie around and eat chocolates while you wait for Matt to come and save you?”

“Not exactly.” Carrie’s gaze darted back to the interior of the inn. “I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for Anna’s next visit.”

“That’s true,” Nate said, frowning. There was something more he was missing here. “So I should let you get–” But Carrie had already wandered off in the direction of Nancy’s office, leaving Nate talking to himself by the open front door. “Right then.”

Time, he decided, to go find the Seniors. If anybody knew what the hell was going on now, it would be those gossip hounds.

He found them, rather surprisingly, in the kitchen. “Did the Red Lion run out of gin?” he asked, slipping in through the door and shutting it behind him.

“Shhh!” Cyb and Moira said together, turning to glare at him.

He held up his hands in apology, and his gran explained, “Carrie’s just next door.”

“And you don’t want her to know you’re here?”

“We don’t want her to know we’re talking about her,” Cyb corrected, and Nate thought, gossip hounds, again, with some satisfaction.

He hopped up to perch on the countertop, earning himself a glare from Jacob who, apparently, was trying to work through the invasion of his kitchen. “So, what’s the latest, then?”

“It’s Jacob who heard it,” Cyb said, clasping her hands together with excitement. “He should tell you.”

“No, please,” Jacob said, without turning around. “You go ahead. Elsewhere, for preference.”

They all ignored the last bit. “It seems,” Stan said, “Carrie received a phone call this morning. From our prospective bride.”

Nate blinked. This wasn’t exactly the big drama he was expecting. “Was this before or after Matt came to give his estimate?” Because that might at least explain her lousy mood, if the phone call was a bad one.

“Just before,” Jacob confirmed, attention still on his knife as he sliced potatoes.

“Any idea what it was about?”

They all looked at Jacob again, and the chef sighed, put down his knife and turned to face them. “All I heard was Carrie saying that all grooms hate weddings, and then, later when I popped back to get her coffee cup, she was arranging the show ’round for a week on Friday.” Jacob paused, apparently getting into the drama of storytelling after all. “And then...she suggested that they stay overnight. Have a romantic weekend here at the Avalon.”

“So we might possibly have our first overnight guests since Carrie took over,” Nate summarized, shrugging. “Well, at least we know the bride is predisposed to like the place.”

“There’s more than that going on today, boy,” Stan boomed, clearly forgetting Carrie was still in the next room. “We’ve got a plan.”

Which sounded ominous. Nate sighed. “Okay. Why don’t we go and discuss this plan somewhere farther away from Nancy’s office?”

They settled on the front drawing room, since Carrie was no longer using it to work from, and Jacob brought them a tray of tea with some of the staff digestives before disappearing back to the kitchen. The inn might be falling apart, he told them, but there were still people who’d risk falling bricks for his steak and kidney pudding.

It was a good sign, Nate supposed, that the inn was still getting diners in, even if it was just the locals. Now they just needed to make it habitable enough for people to stay. And get married.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, helping himself to a biscuit. “Find out about this possible sleepover?”

Stan nodded. “And why a newly affianced couple need a romantic night away. Don’t want either of them getting cold feet. That’s your job. You’re officially our intelligence arm.”

“Me?” Nate asked through a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. His gran glared at him, so he chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Why me?”

“Well, after your success at dance night, you’re the best way in we’ve got,” Stan told him, and for a moment Nate was back on the dance floor with his arms around Carrie Archer. It was, he had to admit, a much more pleasant reality than one that involved plotting some sort of inn-related revolution with his gran and her friends.

“She trusts you, Nate.” Moira sounded a lot more rational about the whole thing, at least. “Especially after this thing with the builder. She’s a lot more likely to tell you what’s going on than the rest of us.”

Nate leaned back in his chair and considered. “Okay, so, supposing we know what’s happening, what exactly are we going to do about it? This place needs to be irresistible in two weeks time. If the groom is getting nervous, we don’t want to give him any excuse to put things off.”

Stan grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t elaborate, so Nate turned to his gran. Moira gave a broad smile, and said, “Cyb’s had a wonderful idea.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard those words put together before. Trying not to wince, Nate turned his attention to the fourth member of their group. “Cyb?”

“It’s sort of like a Secret Santa thing,” Cyb said. “Except all year round. And really, more like a Secret Good Samaritan, now I think about it.”

Which cleared absolutely nothing up at all. Nate looked back at Moira, who sighed.

“It’s a good plan,” she assured him, and Nate nodded and said, “Tell me.”

“The premise,” Stan interrupted, “is that Carrie is just as stubborn as her grandmother, and wants to do everything herself.”

Nate thought of Carrie, buried deep in the depths of Nancy’s office, refusing to ask for help. Remembered the look on her face when he’d interfered with Tom the rip-off-builder, and when his mate Tony had come by to shore up the terrace. “Okay, I can buy that. So, how do we help her if she doesn’t want our help?”

“This is where the secret Good Samaritan bit comes in,” Cyb whispered across to him, and Stan glared at her.

“We take care of the little things,” Moira told him, ignoring the other two. “The things she won’t have time to think of.”

“Soaps and things,” Stan put in, and Nate blinked at him in surprise. “Or so they tell me.”

Moira rolled her eyes. “More than that. We try to take on all the details while Carrie deals with the building.”

“It sounds like a good start,” Nate said, not wanting to dampen their spirits. “But are the details really going to make that much of a difference?”

“The devil is in the details,” Cyb told him unhelpfully.

“Curtains? Linens? Fresh flowers? Stationery? New menus? Updating the website?” Moira smiled at him smugly. “I think they’ll make a lot of difference.”

“But how are we going to pay for everything?” Nate had some savings, but not enough to save the Avalon Inn. And the others were living on their not-that-impressive pensions.

“The old-fashioned way,” Stan said. “We’ll beg and borrow–things not money, mind.”

“We’ll make do and mend,” Cyb added.

“And you,” Moira said, an unholy smile on her face. “You can dig for victory.”

* * * *

The deadline column on Carrie’s to do list had taken on a frightening urgency, dates written in red ink and underlined several times. Ruth and Anna would be arriving at the Avalon Inn in less than two weeks, Aunt Selena and Graeme in tow. Carrie had spent the previous afternoon, evening, and a good portion of the night building her schedule for the next ten days.

Ruth had called back to confirm that she and Graeme would stay overnight and get the train back the next day, so Graeme could make some meeting or another. She’d sounded cross about it, so Carrie hadn’t asked what sort of a business had meetings on a Saturday. Aunt Selena, unsurprisingly, wasn’t willing to risk a night at the Avalon Inn, and Anna hadn’t been invited to. Which meant only one bedroom had to be in habitable condition, probably the bridal suite since that was what Ruth would want to see most. She had to find somewhere on the grounds suitable for photos. She had to talk to Jacob about romantic dinner menus. She had to....

It's all on The List, she told herself, taking a deep breath. All she needed to do now was actually achieve everything on The List, and not give in to a massive panic attack.

When her heart had slowed down again, she glanced at The List and read just the top item. Baby steps. One thing at a time. Starting with, apparently, the lobby.

First impressions were important. She needed her guests to be besotted from the moment they walked in. Ruth would see past any problems because she loved the Avalon, but with Aunt Selena, first impressions were everything. Graeme was an unknown quantity, but if he liked the inn enough to let Ruth hold her wedding there, Carrie might be able to pay Matt the builder for all the work he’d need to do before it happened.

But all that could only happen if Aunt Selena agreed.

Carrie was under no illusions that either her cousin or her cousin’s fiance would actually have the final say on where the wedding took place. It was a miracle Ruth’s plan had gotten this far. Now everything relied on Carrie and the Avalon Inn wowing Selena Archer.

Except the foyer wasn’t the first thing Selena would see, was it? The first thing she’d see was the driveway, with the overgrown shrubs, and the empty flowerbeds outside the front of the Inn.

Damn. She needed to talk to Nate.

She found him already outside, kneeling beside the beds under the windows of the front drawing room, a tray of late-blooming bedding plants beside him.

“Thought the place needed brightening up a bit,” he said, smiling up at her as she paused on the steps.

“That’s...great,” she said, looking over at the suddenly neat shrubs along the driveway. He’d been working on them the other day, she remembered, but had stopped to take her to call Matt. When had he had time to finish them?

“Yet you don’t sound thrilled.” Nate dropped another bright pink flower into a hole he’d made in the soil. “Should I have checked with you about the color scheme?”

“No, no.” Carrie winced as she caught another glance of the glaring pink. “They’re very...”

“Bright,” Nate finished. “I know. But they were, well, reasonably priced.”

Carrie blinked. She hadn’t even thought about that. “I’m sorry. Do you have access to the accounts? Or do you need me to...”

“I’m fine,” Nate assured her. “Nancy used to give me a garden allowance every season. I’ve still got some of the summer’s left.”

Carrie wasn’t sure why she was so certain he was lying, but he was. But since she didn’t have any extra money to give him to pay for tastefully colored flowers, she wasn’t going to argue.

“They look great,” she told him, sincerely. “I was actually just on my way out to ask you if we could do something with these beds. You taken up mindreading in your spare time?”

Nate laughed. “No. But I’m afraid you have an inn full of eavesdroppers and gossips.”

“Oh?” It might have got her flowers, but otherwise that wasn’t in any way comforting.

“Jacob overheard your phone call yesterday. I understand we have a date for your bride and groom to visit. And maybe even some overnight guests?” Nate looked up at her again, his eyes a dark, dark grey in the September light.

Carrie thought of the ever-growing to do list and remembered Anna saying “the first rule of management is delegation.” Nate was her employee, after all. He needed to know what was going on. And maybe he could take on one or two of the items on the list. Under her strict supervision, of course. But if she told him exactly what she needed doing, how badly could he mess up? And Nate had seemed fairly competent so far.

As long as she didn’t tell him exactly how awful Aunt Selena was, of course. Didn’t want to scare the poor man away.

She dropped to sit on the steps and watched his strong, muddy hands settle the hideous flowers into their new homes. “Ruth and Graeme could do with a little alone time,” she told him. “Wedding planning is very stressful, you know.”

“And they’re definitely still planning a wedding.”

Carrie nodded. “This one, Ruth will go through with. Even if it’s only to have her bouquet of Ecuadorian Cool Water Roses.”

“She’s a flower lover?” Nate looked around at the surrounding gardens. “Then I’m going to need some more plants.” He patted down the earth around the last pink flower and got to his feet, looming tall over Carrie as she sat. “Let me know what else I can do to help,” he said, wandering off toward his wheelbarrow, plant trays in hand, totally unruffled.

Carrie wondered what he’d say if he saw The List.

* * * *

With only three days to go until Carrie’s cousin and her entourage arrived, things were looking pretty good. Nate had done what he could in the gardens, given his limited finances and the fact that it was mid-October and most of the plants were ready for a long, peaceful sleep. Not unlike himself.

Carrie had been dragging furniture from one room to another, painting over the wallpaper in the bridal suite with a thick, creamy paint that would probably do for a week or two, until the pattern started to show through again. “I know we’ll have to do it properly later,” she’d said to him a few days earlier, as he helped her shift a chaise longue into the newly painted room. “But for now, I just want things to look clean and bright. We can work on actually making them that way when we have a bit more time and money.”

She was working on the lobby today, cleaning rather than painting, Nate had seen, passing through on his way to the kitchen. The unicorn tapestry was down and draped across one of the armchairs in the drawing room. He wondered if she was going to put it back.

The Seniors had been squirreling around the inn for the last week and half, doing God only knew what. Nate had decided early on in the plan that the only way he was going to get through the whole enterprise without losing it with Stan or one of the others, or Carrie, was to let the Seniors get on with whatever they wanted, and to look after his area–the garden–and anything else Carrie needed him to do.

But today, he had a much better plan. Jacob was doing a trial run of his romantic three-course dinner for Ruth and Graeme, and Nate figured he’d need a tester, right? Unfortunately, it appeared he wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea.

“Let me guess,” Jacob said, defending the pan on the stove from Izzie’s wooden spoon. “You thought you’d come and see if I needed someone to taste the duck.”

“Many hands make light work,” Cyb said from her position next to the cheesecake. Nate used the distraction to sidle up to the rack where the duck was resting.

“Too many cooks,” Jacob muttered before smacking Nate’s hand away from the meat. “Not yet. Wait until it’s got the berry sauce on it.”

Nate obediently stepped back, knowing the full dish would be worth waiting for. “Did you make the garlic potatoes?” he asked. As he moved toward the staff counter to put the kettle on, something hit him at thigh level and held on.

“Uncle Nate!” Georgia squealed. “Are you going to play with me next?”

Glancing up, Nate saw his grandmother appear in the doorway, her usually immaculate hair in disarray. “Someone else’s turn to babysit now,” she said, leaning heavily against the frame. She looked exhausted, Nate realized. What on earth had they been up to all week? “Stan needs me to do something with pictures up on the landing.”

“I’ll watch her,” Izzie said, abandoning her spoon. Georgia went happily to the receptionist, reaching out a hand for her to hold. Nate wondered how much time they’d been spending together, and whether that was related to how much time Izzie wanted to be spending with Jacob. Probably without his daughter around. “Come on, Georgie. We’ll go play hide and seek with the curtains in the dining room.”

They followed Moira out, and Nate turned to his cousin with a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s a one-off, I swear,” Jacob said, holding up his hands. “Her mum couldn’t have her, the childminder’s sick, and Gran was already here helping Stan. She’s going to take her home in a little while.”

“None of my business,” Nate said, even though it was, really. Jake and Georgia were family, and the inn was home. It all mattered to him. “Just... Carrie’s pretty stressed this week. Might not be a good week for her to meet Georgia.”

On cue, Nate’s phone rang, with Carrie’s name flashing across the top. “I’m in the kitchen,” he said as he answered. “About ten meters away. You saw me come in here.”

“I’m on my way into town,” Carrie answered, and he heard traffic in the background. “Need varnish for the reception desk. I forgot to check if there was anything you wanted for the garden.”

“A greenhouse,” he answered, then laughed to make sure she knew it was a joke. It was hard to tell with Carrie at the moment.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said, and hung up.

Nate turned to Cyb. “Boss is out for the next hour or so, I reckon. If there’s anything you need to do downstairs today, this might be the time.” Leaving him all alone with Jacob’s trial run.

Cyb nodded. “I’ll go and check with–”

A loud crash from the dining room interrupted her, and Nate winced. Jacob abandoned his saucepan, and ran through to find Georgia. Nate flicked off the gas and followed, Cyb right behind him.

The large oak Welsh dresser that ran along the longest wall in the dining room, laden with rows of bright, white china on its narrow shelves, now leaned at an angle, jammed against the door, and its shelf part entirely separated from the cupboard below. Splinters of bright white china lay all around. To one side stood a trembling Georgia, silent tears dripping from huge blue eyes. Izzie knelt beside the girl, arms wrapped around her waist, holding her back from the carnage.

“What the hell happened?” Nate asked, as Jacob rushed to his daughter, pushing Izzie to one side.

“She wanted to hide behind the dresser, I think,” Izzie said, her voice soft and shaken. “I was seeking, so I had my eyes closed...”

Nate picked his way through the broken crockery to examine the dresser. It had been made to come apart, at least, presumably to help with moving. Which meant it should be possible to put it back together. Maybe even before Carrie got back. He opened the cupboard doors and stared at the mass of broken plates and bowls inside. “Was this all our china?”

“The good stuff,” Jacob confirmed, looking up from Georgia.

“Right.” Nate shut the doors again. “I think I can fix the dresser, but you two–” He pointed to Cyb and Izzie. “–you need to sort the crockery issues. Before the show ’round.”

Izzie looked terrified. Cyb, on the other hand, straightened her shoulders and said, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Glad to hear it,” Nate said, and went to fetch his tools.

* * * *

When she woke up on Friday morning, Carrie’s first instinct was to crawl under the blanket and stay there.

She’d spent two weeks in thrall to The List, and in places the inn still looked like a run-down 1970s motel. On the plus side, at least the Seniors had stayed out of her way–she didn’t think she’d seen Stan or Cyb since she’d spoken to Ruth, and even Moira had only popped in to deliver Nate’s lunches, as far as Carrie could tell.

Nate, unfortunately, had been similarly absent. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t busy working. Carrie would leave a note with Izzie in the morning about something she’d thought of for him to do, and when she went to check that evening, it was always done. She just never actually saw him do it. Weirdly, she was starting to miss him.

Still, for better or for worse, it was show ’round day, and there were still some things Carrie could do to get ready for the invasion.

Showered, made-up and dressed in her best gray suit and lilac shirt, Carrie descended the stairs to find Izzie and Jacob pouring over something at the reception desk. Her heart clenched. “Everything okay?” Because really, what else could go wrong?

Jacob looked up with a wide smile. “Fine. Just perusing the new menus. They look fab.”

“New menus?” Carrie asked, stepping closer. Yes, she and Jacob had discussed the actual dishes they had planned for the wedding brochure so she could talk to Ruth and Selena about them, but they didn’t have any real menus.

Except the one Izzie held up and waved. Carrie took it from her.

“This looks really great,” she said, aware of the surprise in her voice. The heavy, creamy card had swirling dark green borders, with thick, clear print detailing the dishes in much better words than the ones Jacob and Carrie had come up with. “They’ll go perfectly in the new brochures.” When they got around to printing them. “Where did they come from?”

Izzie shrugged, eyes wide and blank. “They were on the desk when I came in this morning.”

“Is there a packing slip?” Carrie reached over to rifle through the box. Nothing. Not even a label. “Well, someone must have ordered them.”

“It was probably Nate,” Izzie said, after sharing a look with Jacob that, try as she might, Carrie couldn’t quite translate. “You should ask him.”

“I will,” Carrie said, adding a few of the menus to her clipboard. “Once I manage to find him.”

“He’s sorting the flowers in the dining room, I think,” Jacob told her. “And I need to get back to the kitchen.” He disappeared through the double doors to the dining room, and Carrie considered following.

But Anna was due in twenty minutes and Ruth and her mother could arrive at any time–as much as she loved her, Carrie knew Ruth wasn’t really very good at appointments. She’d asked her to be here half an hour before Anna, in the hope they’d arrive at approximately the same time. With a sigh, she pulled out The List again and headed for the drawing room.

And promptly paused in the doorway. In the center of the room stood the low coffee table from the other sitting room, surrounded by five of the more upright chairs and a tray with coffee cups and saucers, sugar and spoons. A note propped against one of the cups told her that Jacob would keep the coffee machine running all morning and bring out a fresh pot, with cream, when her guests arrived.

God bless Jacob, she thought, and crossed set up meeting area off her list, wondering how he’d known it was one of the many things she just hadn’t been able to get around to before she’d fallen into bed in the early hours of the morning.

There were fresh flowers on the windowsills, too, she realized, presumably courtesy of Nate and Moira. Poor Nate would have no flowers left in his garden by the end of the visit.

Carrie consulted The List again, ignoring the items she could do nothing about–Fix terrace! New windows, etc.–and focusing instead on the things that might be achievable before everyone arrived.

She’d have liked time to make the bridal suite more impressive, but had settled for sorting out the main reception and ceremony areas. There was nothing to be done for the carpet in the dining room except to reassure her guests it would be replaced before the big day, but the tables had all been cleaned, polished, then when even that didn’t make a difference, covered in crisp white linen like they would be for the wedding breakfast.

Nate had polished the Welsh dresser without her even asking, and apparently Jacob had been running all the china through the dishwasher to make sure it sparkled. She couldn’t afford to waste money on centerpieces, but Nate and Moira were doing what they could with what they had in the garden. Carrie hadn’t even asked what they planned to put the flowers in. Nate had just pushed her out the doorway the previous evening and told her not to worry about it.

The chairs, too, were covered in some dusty old chair covers she’d found in one of the back rooms, apparently left over from another event. The bright lilac color wasn’t anywhere near the same color as Ruth’s beloved roses, but she’d splashed out on some thick white ribbon to tie them on, which toned it down a bit.

Then suddenly there was the sound of wheels on gravel, and it was too late to do anything else anyway.

Her staggered start-time plan seemed to have worked, at least, as Aunt Selena’s car pulled up directly behind Anna’s. But when only Selena and Ruth got out, Carrie wished desperately she’d told Ruth to be there an hour before.

“Oh, Carrie! It’s so good to see you!” Ruth threw herself into Carrie’s arms as soon as she stepped into the lobby, her blond bob flying across her face. Over her shoulder, Carrie could see Selena eyeing the tapestry she’d replaced over the desk as she stripped off her gloves and coat and handed them to a bemused Izzie. “Tell me this place has a bar,” Ruth whispered, hugging her cousin. “The drive up was a nightmare.”

“Fully stocked,” Carrie whispered back. “Where’s Graeme?”

Ruth’s face was stormy. “Last-minute meeting he couldn’t get out of. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Carrie lied. Would Selena book without Graeme having seen the Inn? Would Anna accept a provisional booking? “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get this tour over with, and your mother and Anna packed off back to Manchester, then it’s you, me and a bottle of wine.” She pulled back and smiled brightly at Ruth’s mother. “Aunt Selena, it’s so lovely to see you again. May I introduce you to Anna Yardley? She’s my boss at Wedding Wishes. Anna, this is Selena and Ruth Archer.” Introductions over, Carrie motioned toward the open door beside her. “Why don’t you all come through to the front drawing room.” Hopefully Jacob had heard the commotion and coffee was on its way. “We can talk about your plans and ideas for the wedding.”

“At this rate there won’t be any wedding,” Selena said, only half under her breath, stalking past Carrie into the drawing room, followed by an unamused-looking Anna.

Carrie took a deep breath and waited for Ruth, who paused to give her a sympathetic look, to pass through, then turned to Izzie and mouthed Hang them up! before she moved calmly through to join her clients.

Jacob, bless him, had a better idea about customer service than Izzie did, at least. The coffee was hot and steaming, and even better, was accompanied by a plate of miniature cakes, which, Carrie promised herself, if Ruth and Selena didn’t touch–Selena because she was watching her figure, and Ruth because her mother was glaring at her–she was going to eat all of the moment Anna was gone. She might save one for Ruth, she supposed.

“I love these flowers!” Ruth was standing at the window, fingering a shallow vase of Nate’s best vibrant pink budget blooms. “They’re so...happy.”

“They don’t really tone with the lavender and white theme, darling,” Selena pointed out, pushing the plate of cakes across the table away from her.

“Oh, they’ll be perfect with the lavender! What are they called, Carrie? I must make a note.” So far, Carrie had noticed, the flowers were the one thing Ruth seemed to care about in her wedding. She managed to get over the shock of somebody actually liking the hideous things long enough to say, “I’ll be sure to ask our gardener for you.”

“Oooh, a gardener! Is he a hunky Sean Bean in Lady Chatterley type?” Carrie tried not to imagine Nate as Mellors, and failed. “Or is he an ancient old thing?” Ruth sounded quite sorry for Carrie at the very prospect.

Anna was rolling her eyes. Probably best to get back to business, Carrie decided. “Coffee, ladies?”

Drinks poured and cakes rejected, Carrie started into the spiel she’d lain awake perfecting the night before. “I’m so very delighted that Ruth wants to hold her wedding at the Avalon Inn. I know we both have a lot of childhood memories here, and I think we can make her big day very special indeed.”

Ruth clapped her hands together. “And this place is every bit as perfect as I remembered! The views driving up...”

“We haven’t actually seen much of the inn yet,” Selena said, in a voice that made her opinion of what she had seen very clear indeed. “It’s been a long time since either of us have been here. Perhaps we should reserve judgment for now.”

“I think that’s very wise,” Anna said, reaching for her coffee.

Ruth rolled her eyes and flopped into her chair. “Don’t be silly, Mum. I know you had problems with Grandma Nancy, but it’s Carrie’s inn now. Of course it’s going to be perfect.”

Carrie tried very hard not to wince at that. “There’s still a lot of work to be done to bring the inn up to scratch,” she admitted. “But assuming you’re sticking to your original Christmas Eve wedding date...” She paused and waited for Selena’s nod.

“The Save-the-Date cards have already been printed,” Ruth added. Carrie got the impression Ruth might have organized that first and told her mother later.

“Which gives us two months to turn the Avalon Inn into your dream venue. And I’ve already found a builder willing to work to our timeframe.” Carrie gave them both a wide, reassuring smile before diving into the risky but potentially winning argument she’d come up with at four in the morning. “And the advantage of yours being the first wedding planned at the new Avalon, of course, is that you’ll be able to work with me to make sure the alterations to the Inn work for your wedding.” Selena perked up hugely at that, and Anna’s eyes widened a bit. “Within reason, of course,” Carrie added hastily.

“Of course.” Selena’s voice suggested that her idea of reasonable might be very different to Carrie’s.

But there was no time to dwell on what was possibly the biggest mistake Carrie had made all year. “Why don’t we take a tour of the inn, and then we can come back here to discuss the specifics,” Carrie said, hoping Jacob’s concept of customer service stretched to clearing up the coffee cups before they came back down. Just as long as he left the cakes.

* * * *

Nate balanced precariously with one foot on the edge of the bed, the other on the bedside table, and wondered aloud why he hadn’t been permitted to just go and fetch a stepladder.

“No time!” Cyb said from her look-out position at the door. “What if they came up here and found you halfway up a ladder? That doesn’t say quality, luxury inn now, does it?”

“What does me lying flat on my back with a broken leg and a lacy canopy draped over me say?” Nate asked, shifting with care to pin the next section of the bridal canopy in place.

“It says you stopped paying attention to what you were doing, and that’s why you injured yourself,” Moira put in from the window, where she stared out at the car Ruth and Selena had arrived in. “I’m not sure I liked the look of them, you know.”

“I don’t think that really matters much to Carrie, to be honest,” Nate said, finally pinning the last corner securely. “They’re her family.”

“Nancy never liked the mother, though, did she?” Moira shook her head. “She’s taking a big chance on them.”

“I think she’s trying to find a way to keep Anna onside and earn enough money to get this place fixed and up and running. What do you think?” Nate asked, jumping down to admire his handiwork.

“I think she should be careful who she chooses to work with,” Moira said, still looking out the window.

“About the canopy,” Nate clarified, and Moira and Cyb both turned to see.

Cyb clapped her hands together, letting the door bang shut. “Oh, Nate! It’s perfect!”

“It looks lovely,” his gran agreed, and Nate allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“Thank God for that, because I’m not getting back up there. That bedside table is not safe.”

A noise in the corridor made them all stop. “Was that...?” Moira whispered, and Nate shrugged.

Cyb pushed the door open just an inch and peeked out, then pulled her head back and nodded violently. “They’ve just gone into the Blue Room at the end of the corridor.”

Nate looked at all the bits and bobs they still had strewn across the bed and came to a decision. “Okay, you two run for it.” When both women hesitated, Nate went on, “At least I’m actually employed here. You two have no excuse.”

Moira nodded and grabbed her friend’s arm. “Come on, Cyb.” Then they ran.

That Nate managed to get all the tools, fabric swatches and carrier bags stowed away under the bed before Carrie and her guests reached the bridal suite was, he felt, quite an achievement in itself. The look on Carrie’s face when she found him there suggested she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“Nate,” she said, her voice chilly. “Anna, Ruth, Aunt Selena, this is our gardener and handyman, Nathanial Green.” Her attention went straight back to her clipboard, but Nate decided to put off figuring out why she was avoiding his eyes until later.

Instead, he smiled a welcome. “Just checking on the room, ready for your visit,” he told them. The prospective bride to be gave him a wide, beaming grin, which made him feel more uncomfortable than anything else.

But then she flashed that same, wicked smile at Carrie, and Nate could see the obvious affection she had for Carrie in that glance. “Isn’t it wonderful, Mum?” Ruth said, obviously trying to win Selena over for Carrie, and Nate started to think maybe Gran was wrong about her.

He’d almost managed to slip out the door before Carrie noticed the changes to the room, but not quite. As the mother, Selena, said, “Well, the bed is quite impressive, I suppose,” Carrie looked up from her list in confusion and stared at the huge four-poster bed decked out in white lace and linen and looking most inviting.

“It’s gorgeous,” Ruth said, before draping herself across it like she owned it. Nate hid a grin. He’d known the bed would be a big incentive for any bride. Or groom, for that matter.

Where was the groom, anyway? Jacob was going to be miffed if he was cooking duck with berry reduction for no reason.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite features,” Carrie said, getting a grip on the situation. Her eyes met his, finally, with a hint of confusion but also thanks, before they slid away again. Nate watched as she gazed around the room, obviously taking in the changes. The others were more subtle, but the matching dressing table with antique silver hairbrush and mirror set, and the irises in the pewter vase on the windowsill, all detracted from the hideous carpet and hurriedly painted walls with the wallpaper showing through. Cyb had even managed to rustle up some new curtains from somewhere. They were thick and heavy and fully lined, but the paler pattern still managed to lighten up the room.

Nate had learned more about interior design in the past two weeks than he’d ever expected to know.

Selena slipped past him to inspect the bathroom, where at least the suite was white, even if the tiles were turquoise. Still, she didn’t seem completely displeased when she came out.

“This might actually do,” she said, sounding surprised, and Nate thought he could see some of the lines in Carrie’s forehead fade.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, before casually gathering the other women up somehow and shepherding them toward the doorway. Nate watched closely and still wasn’t sure how she did it. “Why don’t you three head downstairs. You can have a chat about whether these rooms will fit your needs. I just need a quick word with Nate, then I’ll meet you in the lobby so we can go through to look at the reception rooms and talk about the menus.”

As the door shut behind them, Nate heard Ruth saying quite firmly, “I am sleeping in that bed on my wedding night.”

Carrie looked at him in silence after they’d gone, long enough for Nate to begin to feel uncomfortable before she finally spoke. “You know, you’ve ruined my big finish.”

“Oh?” It helped that Carrie’s conversational style took after her grandmother’s, he thought. If he hadn’t known Nancy, he might think his new boss was cross with him.

“Yes. I started them up here so we could work up to the dining room, which was the only room that looked halfway decent. I thought a big finish might make them forget how dreadful the bridal suite was.” She smiled, finally. “Now, all Ruth’s going to be thinking about is deflowering poor Graeme on that wonderful bed. Wherever did you find it? All of this?”

Nate shrugged. “I had help.”

“The Seniors?”

“The bed belonged to Cyb’s brother-in-law. It’s been sitting in storage since he died six years ago, because no one had a room big enough for it.” Nate reached out and ran a finger down the carving on the bedpost. “Bless her, she only remembered about it yesterday. But she’s spoken with her nephews and nieces, and harangued them into donating it to the inn. You might have to give them a couple of free nights stay, though.”

“Happily,” Carrie said, staring up at the canopy. “But I’m telling you now, I’m having a night in this bed. Soon.”

Nate’s mind filled with a number of very inappropriate visions of Carrie Archer spread out across Cyb’s brother-in-law’s bed, red hair tousled on the white sheets, eyes as full of longing as they were when she looked at it. She was his boss, he reminded himself, and besides, she only looked like that because she hadn’t slept in about a fortnight.

Before he had a chance to swallow the lump that had appeared in his throat and find his voice, Carrie sighed and looked away, her eyes just tired again. “I’d better go and catch them up,” she said, turning to the door. “I don’t want to leave Anna and Selena alone together for too long.”

Nate nodded and, as she left, finally found enough voice to call after her, “Stop by and let me know how it all goes, later.” If you’re not already enjoying the bed, he added silently.

No matter how tired he was, Nate was pretty sure sleep was going to be hard to come by that night, alone in the drafty summerhouse, imagining Carrie up here in the wooden four-poster.