Room for Love (36 page)

Eventually she figured they had to have had enough time, released the brake and straightened up slowly, saying, “Oh, there we are! I knew it was there somewhere.” Then, with a lighthearted laugh, she pushed Moira into the hallway, and left the rest of them to go and drink champagne in the bar while the photographer got to work.

Carrie, lovely in her lavender satin dress, paused beside them as the wedding party exited. “How’s it going?” she asked, her voice low and her attention still ahead of her on the bride.

“Nothing to worry about,” Cyb promised.

Carrie nodded, and followed the crowd to the bar. Cyb closed the door behind the last of them, and just in time, too. Moments later, Stan threw open the front door and said, “Where’s Jacob? Somebody needs to come and help me with all these fish and chips.”

Between Jacob and Stan’s nephew, they manhandled the revised wedding breakfast into the kitchen. Mopping at his forehead with a handkerchief, Stan leaned against the kitchen door. Cyb beamed up at him, and for once he didn’t blush at her attention.

Instead, he said, “Now that’s sorted, I think you and I need to have a chat, girl,” and Cyb’s heart did a quickstep in her chest.

Chapter 15

The photographer, reassured about the structural stability of the terrace, had no problem at all using it for photos. In fact, he praised the way Nate’s new paintwork reflected extra light onto everyone’s faces. So Carrie plastered on a smile as the photographer snapped away, keeping one eye on Anna in the corner. Despite the fact everything appeared to be going just fine, she had a slight smile on her face. Carrie wondered what it was Anna thought she didn’t know. She must know they’d found out about the fridges. What else could there be?

Carrie glanced behind her, through the windows to the dining room, and saw Stan and Jacob unloading portions of fish and chips into the heated trays. So, it wasn’t roast lamb. But it was, at least, Ruth’s favorite food. And that was going to have to do for now.

As long as nothing else went wrong.

Nate appeared at the edge of the terrace, a calm, relaxed smile on his face. “Once you’re finished here, we’re ready to welcome your guests through to the dining room,” he told Ruth.

Ruth checked with the photographer, who nodded, and she tugged off her veil with visible relief. “Thank God for that. I’m starving.”

Carrie was glad somebody was. She didn’t think she could eat a single chip. Still, she trailed in after Ruth, wondering what she was going to make of her new wedding breakfast.

“Fish and chips!” Ruth clapped her hands together with excitement when the black-tied waiters took the lids off the heated dishes and started plating up. “My favorite! Carrie, how did you know?”

Carrie shrugged and tried to look modest. “This isn’t my first wedding, you know.” As she took her seat and accepted her plate, she glanced over at the tables. The guests were all digging in with gusto, probably spurred on by the extra champagne Henry had been funnelling into them in the bar. Certainly nobody seemed to be objecting.

She caught Anna’s eye, over at a corner table, and thought she maybe saw even a little admiration there. But she didn’t see defeat.

There had to be something else. She’d done something else.

But what? What else was there? Once the meal and the toasts were out of the way, all that was left was the dancing. And the band should be there any time now, ready to set up.

Unless. “Excuse me a moment,” Carrie said to her neighbor and, abandoning her untouched plate of fish and chips, dashed out to reception.

One phone call confirmed everything she’d been afraid of. “I’m sorry,” the band leader said. “But the wedding planner said it was cancelled. There’s no way we can get there from London now.”

“But I called and re-confirmed last week! We paid all the deposits...”

“She faxed over the cancellation sheet yesterday,” the band leader countered. “Which is after our refundable deposit deadline. I’m very sorry.”

“Cancellation sheet?” Carrie’s mind started turning. “Could you fax it over to me, please?”

“Sure,” the guy said, and took down the number, clearly relieved to be let off the hook.

Carrie hung up and stared at the phone in front of her. So, she had proof of Anna’s sabotage. But Ruth still didn’t have a band. And this was supposed to be Ruth’s perfect day. This was not how it was going to end. Anna bloody Yardley was not going to win with one fax. There had to be something she could do to fix it.

“Oh God, what now?” Carrie turned to see Nate leaning against the wall behind her, his eyes closed. “I’ve already scoured the county for enough capers for Jacob to make his special tartar sauce. I don’t know if I’ve got the energy for anything else.”

Carrie looked at him for a long moment, taking in the delectable sight of Nate in a suit, and thinking. “Perhaps you’d better have some coffee then. I’m afraid your work here isn’t done.”

Nate opened his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me.”

“Anna cancelled the band.”

Sighing, Nate took a step away from the wall and wrapped his hands around her waist. With the torturous corset Ruth had forced her into, his large hands almost reached all the way around. “You know I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, right?”

He was very close now, his forehead almost touching hers. Carrie swallowed. “I know. But you’ll do it?”

Nate nodded, and the action brought his lips close enough to hers for him to place a light kiss on them. “I’ll do it,” he said, pulling away. “Guess I’d better go and warm up then.”

Carrie leaned back against the reception desk to wait for her fax, and watched him go, thinking that if he kept kissing her, she’d never have the brain power to think of an answer to his question about their future. Although, the thought occurred to her, that might actually be his plan.

She needed to rejoin the party, Carrie knew. Ruth would be missing her, and God only knew what else Anna might have screwed up in the meantime. But not until she had proof of Anna’s betrayal in her hand and her breathing back under control.

* * * *

They’d been cutting it close, Cyb realized, following Stan through the hallway to the drawing room. No sooner had they got the fish and chips into the heated trays, than the guests started trailing into the dining room. She really hoped Jacob’s special tartar sauce was as spectacular as he claimed.

But even if it wasn’t, Cyb had more important things to deal with today. Like the tentative way Stan closed the door behind them, turning with his fingertips still on the handle, ready to run.

“Shall we sit?” Cyb suggested, and Stan’s eyes widened with panic. Apparently he hadn’t thought far beyond asking her to talk.

“Um, sitting. Yes. We should…do that.”

Choosing an armchair each, they sat facing each other, with the low coffee table between them. Cyb waited with her most serene smile on her face but when, after several minutes, Stan still hadn’t spoken, she felt compelled to ask, “You wanted to talk to me?”

She’d been waiting for weeks, now, ever since the opening party. She’d actually started to worry that maybe Stan would never say anything. Maybe he really didn’t want her.

Which was ridiculous, of course. She just needed to keep the faith. And now, here they were, and Stan was blushing again and visibly gathering her courage, and looking up into her eyes and saying–

“I was thinking that maybe you were right.”

Cyb arched her brows. “Oh?”

“When you said… Maybe we aren’t too old for all that love business, after all.” He glanced away as he spoke, but he’d said it, and that was what mattered.

“I’m glad you think so.” Reaching across the table, she took Stan’s hand in hers and was rewarded with a shy smile. Strange to see Stan looking uncertain, Cyb thought. He was always so sure of himself, and his arguments, even when he was utterly wrong.

But then, that’s what relationships and love were about, weren’t they? Seeing the parts of someone that no one else ever got to suspect even existed.

“I think we could make a very good match, Stan Baker.”

“So do I,” Stan said, his voice soft. For a long moment, Cyb looked into his bright blue eyes, with the crinkles and wrinkles of a life well lived around them, and knew she had made exactly the right decision.

Then Stan said, “But none of that hanky panky malarkey. That we’re definitely too old for.”

Cyb laughed, and it was high and tinkly, the way it used to be when her Harry was alive. “We’ll see,” she said, and patted his hand again. “We’ll see.”

* * * *

Anna cornered Carrie as soon as she entered the bar, where the party was drinking again while the staff turned the dining room around to make space for the dance floor. “I do hope everything’s all right,” she said, in an unconvincingly concerned voice. “It would be awful for there to be any further problems.”

“Everything’s just fine, actually.” Carrie continued walking toward the bar, where Henry was holding out a glass of white wine for her. Anna followed closely behind.

“Really? Is the band here yet?” Anna signalled to Henry for a drink for herself. Henry ignored her.

Carrie was really going to have to put him on salary. “Funny story about the band, actually.”

“Oh yes?” Anna said, nothing more than mild curiosity in her voice.

“Mmm. But I think I’ll save it for later.” Carrie watched as Anna reached for a spare glass of flat champagne from a tray left on the bar. She was nervous now, Carrie could tell. This was Anna’s last chance to ruin things, and Carrie had already fixed it. She was in the clear. “It’ll be much better to detail all today’s little problems in my formal report Uncle Patrick and Aunt Selena, don’t you think? You always told me how important it was to feedback to clients. Make sure they understand what really went on at a venue, so they knew their position regarding final payments to everyone involved?”

If it were possible, Anna’s expression grew even sourer.

From the adjoining dining room, the opening bars of
Mack the Knife
rang out, before cutting off. Anna jumped, and Carrie didn’t even bother to try and hide her smug smile. “You must come and hear this guy sing,” she said, as the music started again, and people began to move back through to the dance floor. “He’s really something else.” Nate’s voice rang out with the famous first line, and Carrie felt it in her blood.

One look at Anna, though, showed that she felt it more as a suckerpunch to the gut.

Carrie grinned, and went to find Stan for a dance.

* * * *

Nate sang his heart out for two and a half hours before he got a break, watching from the stage as Carrie danced first with Stan, then her father, then Jacob, and then a series of men in suits whom Nate didn’t know and instinctively didn’t like.

When he’d run through all of his backing tracks and excused himself from the stage, Carrie was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Cursing the crush of people making it next to impossible to find her, Nate headed for the next best place: the bar. Henry handed over a pint without him even asking.

“Has Carrie hired you full-time yet?” Nate asked, raising the glass to his lips.

“She might have suggested it as a possibility,” Henry said, turning to serve the next customer. “Apparently she could use a bar manager.”

“Only if it’s you,” Nate said, and took his pint back to the ballroom to look again for Carrie.

Instead, he found Jacob, leaning against the back wall nursing his own pint, watching Izzie dance with the best man to crowd-pleasing songs from somebody’s iPod. “Shouldn’t that be Carrie dancing with him?” Jacob asked, as they watched the guy’s hands wander lower than was decent down Izzie’s back.

“He’d better not try,” Nate muttered. Jacob didn’t seem to hear. He was far too focused on Izzie’s latest conquest. “You’re going to have to actually ask her out, you know. She’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacob responded instantly. “And even if I did, I’ve got enough trouble with women in my life, thanks. Between Gran, Georgia and my ex? The last thing I need is another female running things for me.”

“Yeah,” Nate agreed affably. “But if you don’t ask her to dance after this song, I reckon the best man’s going to take her out on the terrace to look at the moon.”

Jacob handed Nate his pint and said, “Sod waiting for the next song.”

Nate watched his cousin smoothly inveigle his way between the dancing couple and, leaving the best man standing bemused in the middle of the floor, led Izzie toward the terrace with some particularly fancy footwork.

Nate drained his pint, and left Jacob’s on the nearest table. He was going to go and find Carrie.

In the end, that proved easier than he’d expected. He heard Patrick Archer’s braying laugh in the lobby, and found him slapping Carrie on the back. “Fish and chips! Stroke of genius. All anyone’s talking about.” He looked up at someone else, and Nate realized Anna was there, too. This should be interesting, then. He settled in to listen from the doorway, close enough to step in if he felt the occasion warranted it. “Bet you wouldn’t have thought of that, Ann, would you?”