Room for Love (19 page)

Carrie blinked at him, slowly. “Have you been talking to Cyb?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Carrie shook her head. “Okay, forget about Anna. I can do that.”

“Although, actually,” Jacob said, looking amused at the irony, “I reckon she’ll love this next bit.”

* * * *

Carrie followed Nate and Jacob up the path, already anxious. Yes, Nate’s plans looked good and would help out in a small way with the way the inn was run. But if they couldn’t afford to put them in place early and to full capacity, it wasn’t going to make a lot of difference in the short term.

And it was all very well telling her to forget about Anna, but Nate had never worked for Anna. He didn’t understand. Anna didn’t do forgotten. She had twisted her way into every last aspect of Carrie’s life, and then persuaded her it was meant to be that way.

Carrie sighed. She’d be the first to admit she didn’t know a lot about gardening, but Carrie did know plants took time to grow. Probably longer to flower, and even longer to provide anything edible. And however little it cost, it still wasn’t going to be worth more than she could sell the land for.

She didn’t want to, of course. And the inn needed a certain amount of greenspace around it, or it lost a lot of its appeal. But the areas Nate had cordoned off for his plans were far enough away from the main house that they’d never be missed, and the tree line between them and the Avalon meant whatever they were used for wouldn’t be seen from the inn.

Which was probably why he’d chosen them, she realized. And why they were now leading her to the only other place that fit that description, the green lawn beyond the tree line behind the inn.

It would be a shame to lose that spot, Carrie knew. The flowerbeds around its edge burst forth with color and fragrance in the summer, and the grass was luscious and perfect for sunbathing. But it was also probably the most lucrative bit of land she owned.

Her only concern was its proximity to the inn. Once a guest came out of the terrace doors at the back, there was only the smaller grassy patch before a thin row of trees. There was even a decent gap in the center of the tree line to allow access to the field. They’d have to beef up the number of trees if they wanted to hide whatever ended up there.

It was a worry. And it might be a terrible move. But Mr. Norton said he could get a really good offer on that patch of land, and surely it was better to sacrifice it for the good of the inn?

“Close your eyes,” Nate said, as they rounded the side of the Avalon.

Carrie pulled a face. “I’m really not going to do that.”

Smirking, Nate reached out and put a hand over her eyes. “Trust me,” he said, wrapping his other arm around her waist to help guide her.

Carrie could hear Jacob behind them, but her senses were much more concerned with the warmth of Nate’s skin where it touched her, the softness of his shirt against her arm and the hush of his breath next to her ear.

“It’s not like I don’t know where we’re going,” she pointed out, trying to distract herself from Nate’s nearness. “It’s the south lawn, right? I should tell you, that’s probably worth more than the Avalon itself.”

“All the more reason not to sell it,” Nate said.

“It’s too close to the inn, anyway,” Jacob added, and Carrie felt him brush past her right side to go on ahead. When he spoke again, he sounded farther away. “You’d see whatever they built there from the dining room.”

“I meant to ask you about that,” Carrie said, swallowing when Nate’s grip around her waist tightened as she stubbed her toe against a stone. “Could we plant more trees there? Hide it?”

“If you want to spend a fortune on mature trees,” he answered. “Or wait a few decades for them to grow up.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

Nate stopped moving, and kept his hold on her to stop her as well. “It doesn’t need to be,” he said, his voice very close and his words warm in her ear. “Because you’re not going to want to sell, once you see this.”

He moved his hand from her eyes, and Carrie blinked in the daylight. Ahead of her, stood the empty lawn. “I’m not really sure...”

“Look closer,” Nate said, and released her waist.

Carrie stepped forward.

There, just in from the four corners of the lawn, were four pegs, each tied together by the now familiar red twine. And, smack in the center of the grass next to a beaming Jacob, was an easel, which looked remarkably similar to the one usually at home in the inn lobby.

She glanced back at Nate, who was smiling smugly. “Go on,” he said.

Apparently this was part of the master plan after all, and not just a weird oversight.

Carrie did as she was told, and moved over to the easel. Jacob stepped aside to let her get closer, and she peered at the single A4 printout pinned to the board.

“What do you think?” Nate asked from behind her, too close again.

“I think Jacob’s right. This is more expensive.” Of course, it could also be exactly what she needed to win Selena over.

“We could always hire one, to start. Pass the cost on to the client, of course.” Nate reached out and tapped the printed box detailing the measurements. “It’s a perfect fit, even with heaters.”

“And it’s close enough to the kitchens to work,” Jacob put in. “Or there’s space for a catering tent with heated trays just behind it.”

Carrie stepped back again, and looked at the field with new eyes. This time, she didn’t see the fading flowerbeds, or the soft grass. And for the first time, she didn’t even see a building site, someone else’s land and someone else’s dreams.

Instead, she saw a bright white marquee, filled with music and food and high spirits.

She saw the answer to Aunt Selena’s extra thirty guests.

Chapter 7

Two weeks later, the Avalon was almost unrecognizable from the ramshackle inn she’d found on her arrival. Standing on the front steps, Carrie waited for Ruth’s family, and please God, this time, the prospective groom. Either side of her, Nate’s flowerbeds were still blooming bright pink, but tempered by some pale white lobelia spreading out to fill the gaps, and dimming the luminous quality of the pink. Above the flowerbeds, the new windows, while hugely expensive, kept the feel of the building with their dark gray leading and, more importantly, kept out the wind. Behind them, new curtains, new carpets and a few carefully selected pieces of new furniture were ready and waiting to wow.

And most importantly, Anna had called the night before to say she couldn’t make it. She had utmost confidence in Carrie, anyway, she’d said. Carrie had glowed, just a little bit, at that.

“Any sign?” Nate’s head appeared over her shoulder, as he peered down the driveway.

“Not yet.” Carrie sighed. She should probably be doing something more productive than just waiting. She contemplated checking The List again, but decided she couldn’t bear it.

Nate stepped around her, and hopped down the steps onto the gravel driveway. “Well, we’re ready for them when they do get here.”

“I hope so.” Carrie dropped to sit on the top step, her binder and notes resting on her knee.

“Of course we are.” Nate looked affronted at the suggestion. She supposed he had a right. Everyone had put in a phenomenal amount of work everyone over the past few weeks, but Nate had done more than most.

They waited in companionable silence, Carrie running through her talking points in her head, until Jacob stuck his head out the barroom window.

“Are these people habitually late?” he asked, flushed red and looking rather cross. “Because that’s the sort of thing you should warn a chef about, you know.”

Carrie winced. Jacob had been talking about precise timings and cooking schedules for several days, and she’d tried to listen, really she had. It was just pretty dull, and she had bigger concerns. “Will the food be all right?”

Jacob looked even more offended. “The food will be magnificent. Not least because I know rich people are always late, and made a last-minute adjustment to the cooking schedule this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Although, if they’re not here in half an hour...”

“Are they running late?” Cyb asked, popping up next to Jacob in the window.

“Apparently,” Nate said, shading his eyes to look up at her. In the sunlight, his dark hair shone, and his skin turned a shade or two darker. And against the backdrop of the Welsh mountain view, he somehow looked even taller than normal.

Carrie blinked. Not what she should be focusing on. “I’m sure they’ll be here any moment now.”

“What sort of car do they drive?” Izzie asked from behind her. Carrie turned to her erstwhile receptionist and wondered if having Izzie on the front desk today would prove to be a mistake. Too late now, anyway.

“I expect we’ll find out when they arrive,” she said, adding a hint of
so get back to your desk
to her voice.

Izzie carried on regardless. “Only, Henry the part-time barman just called from the village to say there was some huge four-by-four thing clogging up High Street. Wondered if it might be them.”

Groaning, Carrie got to her feet. Of course they’d have come through the village. The Avalon Inn stood just outside the town of Coed-y-Capel, and just before the village of Felinfach. There was a perfectly serviceable dual carriageway past Coed-y-Capel that let off just before the Avalon driveway. So of course they’d have come through the village instead. “Almost certainly. And that means they’ll be here any moment, I’m sure.”

Nate gave her a wicked grin. “Places, everyone,” he said. “The show’s about to start.”

As the bar window closed and Izzie scooted back behind her desk, they heard the telltale noise of wide tires on gravel.

Carrie stood, transfixed by the approaching vehicle, every single point and question on her list forgotten. What the hell was she going to show them? Tell them? How was she going to convince...

Nate stepped forward, cupped a hand over her shoulder, and suddenly everything came back into focus. Carrie took a deep breath and met his eyes.

“Good luck,” he said, but in his face she saw more: reassurance, belief and a touch of concern. “I’ll be down on the south lawn if you need me.”

Carrie shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you on the tour.”

Nate nodded and stepped away.

Carrie watched him go, and almost forgot about the car coming up the driveway.

“Carrie!” One hand clutching her fiance’s, Ruth stepped down from Uncle Patrick’s ridiculously oversized car and dashed toward her. Carrie, in turn, braced herself for an overenthusiastic hug. Ruth was always desperate to remember she had family members she actually liked after forced proximity to her parents.

“Wine’s chilling,” she whispered to her cousin.

“Good. Because I’m not going to make it through dinner without it,” Ruth murmured back. Just the sort of mood she wanted her bride in, Carrie thought.

Pasting on a smile, she turned her attention to the rest of the group. “It’s lovely to see you all. Won’t you step inside?” Carrie moved aside to let them pass, concentrating on observing their apparent states of mind.

Graeme, Ruth’s intended, hovered at the back, looking like he might bolt, until Ruth grabbed hold and tucked her hand through his arm. Then he smiled, weakly, eyes on his shoes more than the inn. Not good.

Uncle Patrick gave Carrie a warm hug on the steps, but Aunt Selena only managed a vague smile as she passed, keeping a good foot of air between her and her husband. Uncle Patrick wasn’t going to give Carrie anything she hadn’t earned, even if Selena agreed to it. He hadn’t got rich by giving money away, he always said. Still, Uncle Patrick doted on his only daughter. And the idea of making all his guests trek from around the country up to the wilds of North Wales would appeal to him. He liked making people work for the benefits of his wealth.

“Good morning, and welcome to the Avalon Inn,” Izzie said, smiling broadly from behind the reception desk. The sunlight streaming through the doorway lit up her blond hair, and Uncle Patrick suddenly looked a good deal more engaged with the visit. Carrie bit back a smile. Perhaps having Izzie on reception today wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Well, it certainly looks brighter in here,” Selena said, apparently unaware of her husband’s new interest.

“It’s stunning,” Ruth added, spinning around in the center. “I can’t even really tell what you’ve done, but whatever it was...”

A whole lot of time, money and effort, Carrie thought, but didn’t say. If people wanted to believe Carrie had magical decor powers, she was all for it.

“Thank you,” she said, instead. “We really wanted the inn to reflect your style, for your wedding.” A half-truth, really. Carrie wanted the inn to reflect her style, but that wasn’t miles away from Ruth’s, anyway.

Patrick was already introducing himself to Izzie at the counter, and it appeared, from the rather sour look on Selena’s face, his wife had finally noticed his interest. Time to move on.

“If you’d all like to come with me through to the drawing room...” Carrie said, holding the door open for them so they’d have no option but to go through. As she turned to follow them, she nodded at Izzie in a way she hoped the receptionist would remember meant
bring coffee
.