Читать книгу The Love Trilogy - Sophie Pembroke - Страница 18

Chapter 10

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. He wasn’t entirely sure she did now.

“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 Ruth’s 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.

“Shh!” 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.

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. Said it might ‘help’.”

“Help with what, I’d like to know?” Stan grumbled.

“So we might possibly have our first overnight guests since Carrie took over,” Nate summarised, 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 only 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 less than 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.

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 attest to 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 would be arriving at the Avalon Inn in less than two weeks, parents 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 they hadn’t been invited to anyway. 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 and Uncle Patrick 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 fiancé would actually have the final say on where the wedding took place. It was a miracle Ruth’s plan had got 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 colour scheme?”

“No, no.” Carrie winced as she caught another glimpse 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 coloured 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 mind-reading 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 autumn 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 towards 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 now 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 squirrelling 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 towards 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 realised. 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. Jacob 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 metres away. You saw me come in here.”

“I’m on my way into town now,” 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.