Читать книгу The Love Trilogy: Room For Love / An A To Z Of Love / Summer Of Love - Sophie Pembroke, Sophie Pembroke - Страница 21

Chapter 13

“I think it went well,” Nate said, doling out drinks from a tray in the Red Lion later. “The bed, in particular, was a big hit.” He raised his pint glass to Cyb and sat down.

“My sister always said very good things about that bed,” Cyb mused, a faraway look in her eye.

Nate decided he didn’t want to investigate that one any further. “How did things go in the dining room?”

“I couldn’t hear much, but Carrie looked pleased.” Moira sipped at her gin and tonic. “And that Ruth girl was over the moon.” Apparently Gran was coming around on the subject of Ruth, which was just as well. “Even the boss woman looked pleasantly surprised.”

“Mother looked less impressed, mind,” Stan added. Stan, Nate thought, wasn’t wholly on board with their plan. “Not sure she’ll go for it.”

“Oh, but once she sees what Nate’s done with the terrace, she’ll be won over, I’m certain.” Cyb gave him a wide smile, and Nate wished he had her faith. The terrace looked nice, yes, but it wasn’t that impressive. Just a few purple and pink flowers and the advantage of views out across Snowdonia. The mountains were going to need to do a lot more work than he had, to be honest.

“Did we manage to do anything with the Willow Room?” he asked. It was the one space giving him real concern. It wasn’t much of a room; Nancy had mostly used it for storage, or for hanging coats on nights of big events. But Carrie had needed somewhere to hold wedding ceremonies inside, in case it rained, so she had laid out rows of chairs and asked Nate to bung some flowers up the top.

“Not much,” Stan admitted. “I put the bay trees with the ribbons you wanted at the top end, and Cyb tied a few ribbons on some chairs, but we were running out of time, to be honest.”

Nate nodded. “Much simpler when Nancy held weddings.” Nancy had got the wedding licence for the inn for a local couple that wanted to get married down by the pond. The rules stated that most of the ceremony had to take place under cover, though, so they’d put up the stone pagoda, which had since only been used for storing garden junk. Nate was not looking forward to clearing that out.

Until then, he was just lucky the licence covered the inside of the inn, too.

“Except when it rained,” Moira pointed out. “Then we just got wet.”

Nancy hadn’t had a ceremony room, of course. It was the pagoda or nothing.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what they made of it.” Nate gave a resigned sigh.

Cyb bit her bottom lip. “You don’t think she’ll be cross, do you?”

“Cross?” Stan barked a laugh. “Whatever for? We helped her, didn’t we?”

“Ye-es,” Moira said, drawing it out. “But some people don’t always appreciate that sort of thing.”

“Well, I do,” Carrie said from the doorway. “So, thanks.” There was silence, until Carrie added, looking uncertain, “Um, Izzie told me where you were. I hope that’s okay...”

The Seniors stared up at her, looking not unlike small children caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. Nate realised he was doing the same and got to his feet.

“They liked it?” He motioned Carrie towards an empty chair.

“Ruth did. I think Aunt Selena still needs some convincing. Anna hated it, of course, but we expected that.” She reached for Nate’s pint, took a sip, then pulled a face and pushed it back. “Gin and tonic?” she asked, looking up at Nate.

He nodded, and smiled at the barmaid clearing the next table, saying, “Could you?” He didn’t want to miss any of this.

“But are they going to put up the money to get the place ready?” Stan asked. Nate was surprised to see him so interested, but, on the other hand, he’d done a lot of lugging of furniture over the past few days. He probably just wanted to be sure he hadn’t been wasting his time.

Carrie took her gin and tonic from the barmaid with a grateful smile. “Some. Uncle Patrick has given me a deposit cheque to do enough to prove to them this is going to work. Hopefully enough for the immediate, expensive and urgent stuff. Then Ruth’s parents and her fiancé are going to come visit at the beginning of November to inspect the progress, and stay overnight. Then they’ll either give me the balance cheque to complete the work in time for Christmas Eve, or they’ll walk away and...”

“We’ll find another way to get the money,” Nate finished for her, but she didn’t look convinced.

“Something like that.” She took another gulp of her drink. “If the wedding goes ahead, Uncle Patrick will consider investing in the Avalon long term. If it doesn’t… I have to pay back the deposit.”

There was a pause around the table, as everyone considered the stakes. Even though Nate knew they’d all fight to keep the Avalon open and theirs, if they couldn’t do enough to fix it Carrie would have to sell it to pay her uncle back. And selling it would break not just her heart, but everyone else’s, too.

“Well, I suppose we’ve got a lot more work to do, then,” Cyb said, finally.

Carrie looked up and smiled at her. “Yes,” she said, her voice warm. “We have. And I’d really appreciate all your help.”

She looked at Nate as she finished speaking, and he caught the pleading in her eyes, if not her voice. She hated asking for this, he knew. But she really did need it.

“Then you’ll have it,” he promised, placing his hand over hers. “And anything else you need.”

Stan cleared his throat. “As long as we get to keep our dance nights and bridge games, that is.”

“Of course,” Carrie said, and she even managed a convincing smile.

* * * *

It was surreal, seeing Ruth curled up in one of the bar’s tatty leather wingback chairs, sipping on Nancy’s best whisky and laughing at something Nate had said. Like two worlds colliding. Carrie supposed she’d better get used to it.

Selena and Patrick had departed late that afternoon taking Anna with them, and leaving the whole inn sighing in relief in the wake of their exhausts.

“You promised me wine,” Ruth had said, and Carrie had led her through to the bar, where Nate had furnished them with drinks, then disappeared to let them catch up. Jacob had shown up an hour or so later, first with nibbles, then with the full three-course romantic dinner planned for Ruth and Graeme, which Ruth had been in raptures over.

“I may never leave,” she’d said around a mouthful of garlic potatoes.

Certainly, Carrie thought, watching her cousin, she seemed at home. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that the Avalon had been as much Ruth’s as her own, once. She’d wondered if Ruth resented Nancy leaving it to her, but when she’d plucked up the courage to ask, Ruth had just tutted and said, “Silly. What would I do with an inn?”

Carrie glanced down at her watch. Gone midnight. Izzie and Jacob, both done for the day but showing no signs of leaving, flirted at the bar over some very unappealing-looking shots. Carrie vaguely remembered Jacob mentioning his ex was having Georgia for a sleepover, so he was obviously making the most of his night off. Nate, on the other hand, had merely stopped by to let them know he was turning in, and had been promptly collared by Ruth and forced to stay and drink whisky with them.

“So,” Ruth said, raising her glass. “I think the occasion deserves a toast.”

“To what?” Carrie asked, but raised her glass anyway.

“To you rescuing the Avalon, and to me getting my Cool Water Roses.”

Carrie rolled her eyes, but Nate said, “To the Avalon,” and Izzie and Jacob echoed it from the bar, so she joined in.

“It’s a shame Graeme couldn’t be here tonight,” Carrie said as Ruth poured them all more whisky. “I’m sure he wanted to be.”

Ruth snorted, and Nate looked at her in surprise. Carrie knew the feeling. Ruth was so blonde and petite and delicate that it was hard to imagine her being anything other than perfectly elegant. “He just wants this thing to happen, with minimal inconvenience to himself and his job.”

Carrie blinked. “Well, a wedding is only one day in a marriage, I suppose.” She took a large gulp of her whisky and didn’t look at Nate. They really needed Graeme to want to get married at the Avalon.

“Exactly,” Ruth said, and topped up her glass. “Which is what I kept telling my mother all the way up here.”

“Fun journey,” Nate said, his voice tense. “Did she agree with you?”

Ruth put on her best Selena voice. “‘If a man can’t show interest in his own wedding day, what’s to say he’ll show any interest in his wife, once it’s over?’” She sighed. “He’s a very busy man, is all. I know he wants to marry me.” Ruth looked between them, then glanced over at the bar. “I think your staff just found the tequila,” she said, getting to her feet. “And you know how I love tequila.”

Carrie did know. And she was afraid the next day was going to be a complete write-off.

“Come on,” Ruth added, holding a hand out to Carrie.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Carrie promised, and watched Ruth weave her way to the bar.

“What do you think?” Nate asked, snagging Ruth’s half-full whisky glass. “Will he go through with it?”

“I’ve never met the man,” Carrie said, looking up at him. “She’s only been with him a few months.”

“What happens if he gets cold feet?” Nate’s voice was soft but serious.

Carrie didn’t answer. Instead, she got to her feet, smoothed down her skirt and said, “I’d better go protect the rest of the spirits from Ruth and her new friends,” and headed over to the bar.

Glancing back, Carrie could see Nate staring after her, his grey eyes contemplative. But she refused to think the worst just yet. For now she was going to believe in Graeme the devoted fiancé, who would love the Avalon. If he ever got there.

She chose to believe in herself, too. She could do this, even if no one else believed it. Yes, she had help now, but the responsibility was all hers. Heavy on her shoulders, but uplifting in her heart.

She was going to make this work.

Then Ruth handed her a shot glass, and the night became a little fuzzy around the edges.

* * * *

Wednesday night meant bridge night at the Avalon Inn. Carrie had managed to avoid them since she’d arrived but, in the spirit of their new collaborative effort to save the inn, she figured she should at least show her face. Especially since it seemed they’d be going on for some time to come. So, the following Wednesday, Carrie shut down her laptop early and headed downstairs to find the action.

The Seniors had set up camp in the bar, shifting tables into position and moving chairs at will. Carrie, perched on a barstool with a well-earned glass of wine, watched in amazement. Bridge didn’t appear to need all the props and decorations dance night required, but the bar still looked utterly different.

Under the window, three rectangular tables were laid out in a line, covered in dark red cloths Carrie hadn’t realised they owned. As each player entered the room they put a plate of some sort of eatables on the table. By the time they were all in, there was a pretty impressive banquet of quiche, sandwiches and salads lined up.

Jacob had set up huge urns of tea and coffee at one end, along with cups and saucers, but most of the players were ordering from the bar. Nate, apparently, had been shanghaied into being barman for the night, and was mixing pink gins and Campari and sodas with the sort of ease that suggested this was a regular occurrence.

“Do we actually have bar staff?” Carrie asked during a lull in the ordering.

“Not exactly.” Nate wiped off a glass with a bar towel and replaced it on its shelf. “There’s not usually a lot of demand on the bar. The Seniors help themselves and keep a tally by the till. And on Sundays we have Henry the part-time barman, who comes in to deal with the walkers and such passing through.”

“And then there are nights like tonight.” Carrie watched as he cleaned another glass with quick, efficient movements. “How did you get roped in?”

Nate shrugged. “We usually hire in extra staff for events—most often Henry, to be honest—but for things like this, it’s just easier for me to do it.” And cheaper, Carrie thought. “Besides,” Nate went on, with a smile, “I’m here anyway, and this way I don’t have to play bridge.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Moira said, waving an empty glass at him. “Ted and Noreen can’t make it, so we’re down a pair. You play, don’t you, Carrie?” Nate refilled his grandmother’s gin and tonic, and she took it back saying, “Bless you. Grandsons are wonderful things.”

“Not really...” Carrie tried, but Nate interrupted.

“If I have to play, you have to play.”

Carrie sighed. “I could try, I suppose.”

“Excellent. Then I suggest you charge your glasses before we start!” Moira bounded over to her table, where she sat with three other women Carrie didn’t recognise.

“There are a lot of people here,” Carrie said as Nate filled up her wine glass. “I didn’t think it would be so popular.”

Nate handed her the wine bottle. “Better take this, too. You might need it.” He slid out from behind the bar, pint in hand. “I guess there aren’t many opportunities for this sort of thing any more. It’s always been a big draw.”

“It’s nice.” Carrie watched the tables start to deal hands, some with more bickering than others. “I’m starting to see why Nancy wanted to make sure this carried on.”

“Good,” Nate said. “Now, we’d better get to our table before someone comes hunting for us.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the maze of tables to one by the fire, where Cyb and Stan sat.

“Oh, good!” Cyb looked up with a big smile. “I was wondering what we’d do without Ted and Noreen. Noreen’s had a bit of a turn today, it seems, and Ted didn’t want her out and about tonight.”

“I just hope you two are better players,” Stan grumbled. “Always fighting over their system, those two are. As if either of them can remember if a raised eyebrow means a face card. Can’t remember what day it is most of the time.”

“Don’t be unkind,” Cyb said mildly. “They’re lovely people. And you like Noreen’s open turkey pie, don’t you try to deny it.”

“I didn’t say the woman couldn’t cook,” Stan pointed out. “Now, can I at least assume you two know how to play?”

“It has been a while,” Carrie admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll pick it up again.”

Stan didn’t look so sure. “You’d better partner Nate, then. Cyb’s not much of a player, but at least I already know her weaknesses. You’d be an unknown quantity.”

“We can always swap later,” Nate said, but the look on Stan’s face suggested this wasn’t very likely.

By the time they’d played the first hand, Carrie was already wishing she’d paid more attention when Nancy had tried to teach her to play. Or that she at least remembered more about the game than that the dummy hand system allowed a murder to be committed in an Agatha Christie novel.

“Two hearts.” Nate declared his bid, watching her carefully over the table. He, at least, seemed to know what he was doing.

Carrie gave him a helpless smile in return, and he rolled his eyes as the bidding continued. She managed a, “Um, one spade,” when her turn came up, but she really wasn’t all that sure.

“It doesn’t seem very fair that you two are stuck with me all night,” she said, after another confusing hand. “I mean, I barely know what I’m doing.”

Cyb patted her hand. “You’re doing very well, dear.”

“Maybe I can see if Moira would let us all swap around a bit,” Stan said, and wandered off towards Moira’s table.

Nate poured Carrie some more wine from her bottle and said, “Clearly, we are going to have to practise before next week.”

The idea of having to play a game of cards she barely understood with a group of senior citizens week on week on week should have been terrifying. Two weeks ago, she would have run screaming from the idea.

But these people had gone out of their way to help her. They knew her grandmother and Nancy had loved them. Sitting in a warm room, having a drink and puzzling over why she only bid the number of tricks over six she thought she could win just didn’t sound so bad any more.

And the added advantage of staring at Nate Green over the table didn’t hurt at all.

Nate was even more puzzling than the tricks things. She’d assumed, when she first heard about the will, that he’d just be one more person trying to tell her what to do, trying to make things happen his way. Who would assume she couldn’t do it, so try and take over himself.

But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d supported her, helped her out, done what he could to make things easier for her—all while making it clear that she was still the boss. It was…baffling. And new. And she liked it.

If she was honest, she liked Nate. Liked knowing he was there beside her, a pair of wonderfully wide shoulders to lean on.

Not that she should rely on him too much, she reminded herself. Quite apart from the fact that she was determined to prove she could do this herself, Nate himself had told her he was a flight risk. He didn’t stay. And even Nancy’s attempt at making him stick it out at the Avalon longer than he’d like would only work for so long.

Strange to think that when she arrived, that had been a comfort. Now she didn’t even want to think about it.

“So, basically, if I want to stay at the Avalon, not only do I need to fix up the whole place, but I also need to learn to dance and play bridge?” Carrie asked, trying to distract herself from her own thoughts.

Cyb’s reply was perfectly serious. “And sing. Can you sing? I don’t think Nancy ever said.”

“She’s got a beautiful voice,” Nate answered, and Carrie turned to him in surprise.

“How would you know?”

Nate shrugged. “Nancy told me.” But Carrie kept looking as his gaze darted away, and the feeling she’d had on her arrival, the first moment she’d seen him, came back. Carrie was certain she’d met Nate Green somewhere before. She just wished she could remember where.

“Well, Cyb, you’re going to have to give me dance lessons, then,” Carrie said. Nate was a puzzle for another time. Late at night, perhaps, when she couldn’t sleep. She swallowed at the thought of Nate Green, late at night. Maybe not then. “Because I’m rubbish at that too. As Nate can attest.”

“You were fine,” Nate said, but he raised his glass to his mouth quickly so he couldn’t be pushed further.

“I was awful.” Carrie smiled at Cyb. “What about it? Want a new pupil? I saw you and Stan spinning round the floor like the next Strictly champs.”

“That would be lovely!” Cyb seemed a little too excited at the prospect of spending time with Carrie stamping on her feet, but Carrie wasn’t going to question it. Weddings always required dancing, and it was the one aspect of the whole affair she hadn’t managed to master yet.

“Great. As soon as we have some free time, then.” Although God only knew when that would be.

Stan bustled over to the table, Moira in tow. She had what seemed on the face of it to be an excellent suggestion. “Why don’t we all swap round after each game? That way Carrie and Nate will get to play with all sorts of people.”

“And my appalling playing won’t annoy anyone for the whole night,” Carrie translated with a smile. She got to her feet, and the wine made her head spin. “Sounds like a plan. Where are we next?”

Their next game was sitting with a retired vet and his ex-schoolteacher wife. “What you really need up here,” the vet said, dealing the cards, “is a petting zoo for the kids.”

Nate topped up Carrie’s glass as the vet’s wife added, “We were always looking for good local places to take the kids on trips. A petting zoo would be perfect.”

“I do still do some part-time work, you know, if you’re interested,” her husband added, and Carrie gulped at her wine.

After them came the retired doctors turned property developers. “What we’ve found,” the wife said, “is that any piece of property is worth a lot more if you just give it the right look.”

“What you want to do is go for clean, bright lines,” her husband said. “Maybe with some accent walls in jewel colours.”

Nate popped back to the bar for another bottle of white before the next game, and Carrie gave him her most grateful smile on his return.

Next was the widower architect, who wanted to know if she had plans for the gatehouse at the bottom of the drive. Then the head of the local fuchsia society. Carrie pushed the bottle of wine towards Nate for that conversation.

Finally, another couple had to leave early, and Carrie and Nate were able to bow out and return to their observation points at the bar.

“People have strong feelings about this place,” Nate said, putting the wine bottle back in the fridge. “I did warn you.”

“You did,” Carrie allowed, remembering that first night curled up on the sofa in his summerhouse. “I just didn’t expect...”

“They were a bit over the top.” Nate gazed out over the card tables. “But this was the first chance most of them have had to talk to you, since the dance night. And then you were too much of an unknown quantity for them to say what they really thought. You’d only been here a week.”

“Whereas now I’m fair game.” Carrie’s phone rang, and she groaned as she yanked it out of her pocket. “Uncle Patrick,” she said, slipping off her stool to take the call in the lobby.

“Carrie, good,” Uncle Patrick said, his voice booming from the handset. “I’ve had some thoughts about what we can do up at our inn...”