Читать книгу The Love Trilogy - Sophie Pembroke - Страница 26

Chapter 18

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 an official 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 towards the field at the back of the inn, she said, “Remember I told you we had an idea for if you needed a larger reception 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 a cliché, Carrie knew, but she suspected cliché 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 fourteen.” Ruth grinned. “In your defence, 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 haircut, him covered in spots...”

“You do realize we’re not fourteen 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.

“So, how’s it working out with that gardener of yours?” Ruth asked, after a moment’s companionable silence.

“Okay, I think.” At least he seemed to have forgiven her for the garden-selling thing. After Uncle Patrick had seen the marquee, even he had to agree they could make more money renting the land, one wedding at a time.

Not that it was up to him. This was still her inn.

“Just okay?” Ruth tutted. “I was hoping for more.”

“More?”

“Carrie, the bloke is gorgeous! Come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. And he’s running around helping you save your inn, acting as a waiter, going far beyond his gardener remit… I’m pretty sure he’s not doing all that just because he was fond of Gran.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to get more control over the inn, too. Or at least make sure I don’t sell off his gardens.” Carrie felt guilty the moment she said it. Nate had been working so hard—they all had. And she knew it was just for love of the Avalon Inn.

“Carrie,” Ruth chided. “Come on. I know you’re relationship challenged, but give the guy a chance.”

Carrie bit her lip. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it. Hell, how could any woman look at Nate and not? “He’s not going to stay,” she told Ruth. “So even if I was interested, even if I had time, what’s the point?”

“Given your track record you’d be kicking him out in two months anyway,” Ruth pointed out.

“It’s easier that way,” Carrie said, with a shrug.

Ruth reached out, placing a hand on Carrie’s arm. “No. It’s not. You think it’s safer, and I get that. After your mum leaving, and then what happened with Ian… I get it, I do. But neither of them deserved you, simple as that. You just need to find someone who does.”

“And does Graeme deserve you?” Carrie asked. Never mind about her love life; Ruth’s was far more important right now.

“He does,” she said, with a wide, warm smile. “He really, really does.”

“Well, in that case, we’d better go save him 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 balance cheque 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 bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his tuxedo jacket long since abandoned. Carrie stared at the patch of skin revealed by his open collar and tried not to think about all the things Ruth had said. However much she wanted to.

“It went well,” he said, his voice soft. He caught the sleeve of her suit, his fingers warm through the fabric, and a shiver ran through her. “Better than I’d imagined.”

Carrie smiled up at him, resolve gone. “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.”

“We’ll see,” she said, ducking her head to try and stop staring. She couldn’t help it. He just looked so damn good in a tux. She couldn’t help but think what he might look like out of it.

“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. Maybe even more… 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...”

“Nancy wanted us to work together, remember? 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. “We’re far, far better as a team.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” she whispered, captivated by the darkness of his eyes. Whatever she’d told Ruth, right then she didn’t care that he wouldn’t stay. Maybe two months of Nate Green would be worth the risk to her independence—and to her heart.

Nate lowered his head just a little, and Carrie blinked, her gaze shifting to his lips. They really were very close. Almost close enough to…

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 onto the banister for balance as his hand dropped from her arm too. “Guess so,” she said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

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 wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before.

What had changed, that he didn’t want to do it now?

With a sigh, Carrie turned and made her way up the stairs towards 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.