Читать книгу The Love Trilogy: Room For Love / An A To Z Of Love / Summer Of Love - Sophie Pembroke, Sophie Pembroke - Страница 20

Chapter 12

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 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 of 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.

Wait, Anna? Carrie’s ex-boss? Well, that didn’t bode well. But there was nothing he could do about it, so instead he smiled a welcome. “Just checking on the room, ready for your visit,” he told them. The prospective bride 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 of 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 as if 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. And what had happened to the father of the bride?

“Yes, it’s one of my favourite 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 window sill, 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 towards 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.

* * * *

Apparently, ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby’ was too confusing an instruction for Carrie’s guests. “They grabbed your uncle from the bar and went through to the dining room,” Izzie told her as she arrived in Reception. Carrie didn’t bother asking why Izzie hadn’t stopped them; she just sighed and headed towards the double doors. That was the problem with family. They thought they had free rein to wander through her life, causing havoc.

The dining room at least looked functional as a reception space, but she’d hoped to have a chance to talk up all the improvements they had planned before they actually saw it. She’d just have to hope the lure of a really great bed would be enough for Ruth to sweet talk her mother into the booking.

But once she stepped through into the dining room, Carrie saw why they couldn’t wait. When she’d last checked the room, in the early hours of that morning, the tables had been laid with plain white cloths, the chairs draped with covers. It had distracted, a little, from the purple and green paisley carpet. Not to mention the matching curtains hanging over the eight windows around two walls of the room. But it wasn’t exactly inspiring.

But now...

Pale lilac and white blooms tempered the vibrant pink of Nate’s bargain flowers, arranged in a mismatched collection of cut-glass vases. Over the plain white cloths Carrie had found for the tables, someone had laid lace cloths, yellowing with age, each one slightly different. And at each place-setting, instead of the full set of plain white china she’d intended, was a teacup and saucer on top of a side plate. The range of patterns in the china was phenomenal. Ditsy floral prints, willow pattern, art deco designs—and Carrie was almost willing to bet that not one single piece matched another that paired it.

Across each of the curtain rails, white fairy lights had been hung in a way Carrie feared might be a fire hazard. But they looked spectacular, so she decided she didn’t care.

“Oh, my God, Carrie, I love this room!” Ruth cried, spotting Carrie in the doorway.

“It certainly is an improvement,” Selena said, running a finger along the rim of a teacup.

Anna was more practical. “How many does it seat?”

“Ten tables of ten,” Carrie answered promptly. “Plus the top table. So, around a hundred and ten.”

“We can cut the guest list, can’t we, Mum?” Ruth said. “I never really wanted to invite the Andersons, anyway.”

“The carpet and curtains will be changed, of course,” Selena went on, ignoring her daughter.

“Of course. And the booking can include sole use of the property, including the bars and drawing rooms, so there’ll be plenty of space for your guests to spread out.” Carrie didn’t mention the additional cost for securing sole use, or the fact it was highly unlikely anyone else would want to be there anyway. Except the Seniors, of course.

“We’d need to book out all the bedrooms.” Carrie tried not to get too excited, but it sounded as if Selena was actually considering it. “And we’d need more accommodation besides.”

“There are a number of lovely hotels and inns in the area,” Carrie said, hoping they wouldn’t decide to go and look at them until after they’d paid a deposit on the Avalon. “I’d be happy to give you names and addresses, or contact them on your behalf.”

Ruth looked between her parents, pleading expression in place. Carrie wasn’t sure it would be enough to make them go along with it on its own, but maybe along with everything else…

“What do you think, Anna?” Uncle Patrick asked, and Carrie’s heart clenched. Here it was: the other side of the story.

“I can see you all have a sentimental attachment to the place, and I agree that the building itself has great potential. But to get this place up to scratch for a wedding as prestigious as your daughter’s…that will take a lot of money. And time. And expertise.” She turned to Carrie with a false-looking smile. “No offence meant, but I’m not sure Carrie has enough of any of those things to make it work.”

You can’t do this.

Anna had no idea what she was capable of, Carrie reminded herself. All she’d ever seen her do was obey orders, do what other people wanted her to do.

Carrie wasn’t that girl any more. And she definitely didn’t have to listen to Anna.

She just hoped her uncle wouldn’t either.

“Maybe not as things stand…” Uncle Patrick tapped a finger against his chin, then pulled a cheque book from his inside pocket. “Okay, here’s the deal. We all agree that the Avalon isn’t ready for this wedding yet. But Carrie is family, and so is this place. So I want to give her a chance—after all, the last one we gave her worked out pretty well, didn’t it, Anna?”

Anna nodded, grudgingly. “I suppose so. Until she left.”

“Newer pastures,” Uncle Patrick said breezily. “And bigger opportunities. Carrie, I’ve been looking for a new small business to invest in, and I think you might be it.”

“But—” That wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want the handout. She just wanted the wedding.

Uncle Patrick held up a hand. “Here’s what I’ll do.” Scribbling on a cheque, he tore it out and handed it to Carrie. “This is a deposit. You use this money to convince us that you can make this wedding work, that you can give my princess everything she wants.”

Carrie glanced over at Aunt Selena, whose mouth had tightened into a wrinkled o shape. It wasn’t just Ruth she had to satisfy, whatever Uncle Patrick said.

“We’ll come back with Graeme in a few weeks and, if we’re satisfied, I’ll pay the balance of the booking up front to let you finish the work. Then, if the wedding is a success, I’ll consider investing long term so that you can do everything else you need to do to make this place a growing concern.” He nudged Anna. “Weren’t you talking in the car about setting up some sort of one-stop-wedding-shop—venue and planning all in one? Looks like our Carrie might be beating you to it!”

“What if you decide not to hold the wedding here?” Anna asked, her eyes fixed on Carrie. But Carrie couldn’t waste time worrying about how she’d angered Anna this time. She needed to hear Uncle Patrick’s answer.

“If the wedding doesn’t go ahead, or if it isn’t everything my little girl ever dreamt of…well, I’m going to need my deposit back. And I’ll be finding another business to invest in. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” He smiled around the room, and Carrie felt disconcerted to see Anna return it.

Why did she get the feeling her ex-boss was just waiting for her to fail? It wouldn’t be so bad if she were the only one.

Carrie stared at the cheque in Uncle Patrick’s hand. It was a risk—a big one. She had no way of paying back the money if this didn’t work. And there were so many things that were outside her control—hell, what if Ruth and Graeme decided not to get married at all? She’d have to sell the inn to pay back Uncle Patrick.

But she was out of options.

She took the cheque, and ignored the horrible tightness in her chest. This was a deposit, not a handout. It bought her time to find other options, so she didn’t have to rely on her family to invest in the place. That was all.