Room for Love (10 page)

Nate obviously saw her discomfort and took pity on her, because he grabbed her hand and, to the applause of the crowd, led her onto the dance floor.

“I’m a rubbish dancer,” she managed, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close.

“Doesn’t matter.” Nate fixed one of her hands on his back, still clasping the other tight, and began to move. “Just sway a bit. They’ll get bored of watching in a moment and join in.”

“I’m sorry.” Bing sang about living in a daydream and she thought, with the heat of Nate’s palms warming her skin through her blouse, that she knew exactly what he meant.

“What for?” Just as Nate had promised, other couples were joining them on the floor, finally. Stan and Cyb took a turn not far from them, and as they passed, Stan winked, although Carrie wasn’t sure if it was aimed at her or Nate, or why.

“You having to dance with me.”

Nate laughed, and several dancers nearby turned to look at them. He moved his head closer to hers, until Carrie could feel his breath against her ear. “Trust me, compared with my usual partners at these things, dancing with you is a real treat.”

He straightened up, and Carrie’s neck felt cold at the absence of his warm breath. At least, that was her excuse for the shiver running up her back when he tugged her close again.

“You didn’t look so pleased when Stan ordered you to take me out for a twirl,” she pointed out. A thought occurred to her. “Or was that because he called me your boss?”

Nate looked perplexed. “You
are
my boss.”

Carrie shrugged, and promptly lost the rhythm. “I wasn’t sure how happy you were about that.”

“Doesn’t bother me, to be honest.” Nate swung them out of the way of a passing couple. “I like having more time to work on my garden.”

“Then what was bothering you?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Bloody Stan and his machinations.” Carrie blinked up at him, confused, and he obligingly elaborated. “Cyb heard the offers from the lawyer this morning to buy the inn. Stan wants me to romance you into telling me whether or not you’re planning on selling. I told him I’d just ask you outright, ‘How did it go with your boss?’ but apparently Stan wants to play this his way, whether we like it or not.”

“I’m not selling,” Carrie said, choosing to ignore the part about a virtual stranger trying to manipulate her love life. “Not unless I’m forced to.”

“That’s what I told him,” Nate said with a nod.

“Oh?”

Nate smiled down at her, and she felt something in her chest go just a bit gooey. “I told them all you love this place too much to sell.”

“Well, you’re right.” Carrie wondered why that was so disturbing. He’d only known her for a week, but he spoke like he knew all her secrets.

“So, how did it go with your boss?”

Too late, Carrie remembered she’d been trying to avoid getting into this position with Nate tonight. He asked too much, too close. And somehow she knew that he wouldn’t approve of the deal she’d struck with Anna.

“It could have gone worse,” she said tentatively, and Nate just looked down at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“That you are.” Nate rubbed a small circle at the small of her back, and Carrie felt blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Anyway, it was just an initial visit. You know, she just wanted to get a look at the place.” She was babbling, Carrie knew, and likely to give away everything she hadn’t wanted to tell him. But it was just so hard to concentrate on anything except his skin against her. “I told her it’s going to take time to get it into shape. But I’ve got two weeks to make it...acceptable to a potential bride. If I can do that, if they book, then Anna will invest.”

Nate stopped rubbing. “So you’ve got to make this place appealing with no money?”

“I have some savings,” Carrie said, because
I have a credit card
sounded so much worse. She already felt stupid enough about letting Anna get the upper hand in the negotiations. ‘I’ve got a potential bride,’ she’d said, and Anna had looked disbelieving. ‘Let me try and sell it to her,’ she’d begged, and Anna had said ‘Fine,’ and it was only later Carrie had even realized that left her with no budget for the work. “We’ll just have to concentrate on the easy, cosmetic stuff for now, and promise changes to the rest before the wedding.”

“Well, at least you’re still getting paid, right?” Nate said, and Carrie stubbornly did not mention that, according to Anna’s last email, she was now officially on unpaid leave. She might need his help, but she didn’t need his pity. And did it really count as help anyway, when he was officially her employee? Nancy hadn’t thought so.

“On the plus side,” she said, dragging the conversation toward the positives, “the potential bride is my cousin. And she loves this place.”

As long as Ruth and Graeme hadn’t actually broken up over the choosing of the ring, of course. Oh God, she was going to have to phone and check.

“That’s good,” Nate said, pausing before adding, “I know you want to do this yourself, I mean... I know it’s your inn. But you are going to need help, you know.”

Carrie was saved from answering by the end of the song. They stilled, arms around each other, for a long, silent moment, only broken when Nate said, “Stan will be pleased, anyway.” He moved away, and Carrie felt a shiver of cold. “That you’re not selling, I mean.”

“Then you’d better go tell him.” Carrie took a step nearer the Donut Dugout. At least Jacob and his sugary morsels of goodness didn’t try to understand her.

“Carrie,” Nate called, and her body turned to him despite her best intentions. “They’re just concerned, you know. They love this place. Now they know you’re staying, they’ll do everything they can to help you.”

She nodded to show she’d heard and turned away. After all, how much help were they really going to be? So far, all they’d done was book up her hotel on days when she could use it for more profitable endeavors, and turn back time to 1944. Neither of which was going to make a successful wedding venue.

And she couldn’t help but notice that Nate hadn’t said he’d help. He hadn’t even said he was going to stay.

Not that she cared, of course.

Time, Carrie decided, for another donut.

* * * *

“That was a lousy stunt, Stan,” Nate said, cornering the older man by the sound system. Cyb took one look at them and quickly found something important she had to be doing somewhere else, which Nate appreciated. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as unobservant as he’d always thought.

Stan gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. You seemed to be enjoying it.” He chuckled at the face Nate pulled. “All right, I’m sorry. But most importantly, did it work?”

Nate sighed. “I asked her outright. No pretense.”

“And she said?”

Over at the donut stand, Nate could see Carrie laughing at something Jacob had said while she selected her next donut. Obviously not too scarred by the whole incident, then. That was something.

“Get Gran and Cyb and I’ll tell you,” Nate decided. “May as well get it all done and over with in one go.”

“Sounds ominous,” Stan grumbled, leaving to fetch the others.

It was only fair to let Stan suffer a little bit before he set all their minds at ease. After all, as enjoyable as dancing with Carrie had been, that wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to go about it.

Nate still didn’t know what, besides bloody-mindedness, had possessed him to kiss Carrie Archer that first night on the terrace. But he did know that as each day went by, he found himself wanting to do it again, more and more.

Even when she was driving him up the wall.

“What’s the news?” Moira asked. The three Seniors crammed into the tiny backstage area where, hopefully, Carrie wouldn’t see them, get suspicious, and come to find out what they were up to.

Nate sighed. They were the worst plotters since Guy Fawkes and his cronies.

“She’s still not planning to sell, whatever her boss wants. The aim is still to turn this place into a wedding destination hotel.” He paused for the resulting sighs of relief. “But there’s a lot of work to do here if she’s going to convince her boss.” It had been running at a loss for the last six months, Nate knew, ever since Nancy took ill. Anna Yardley had to be looking at putting some significant money into it, if she decided it was worth her while.

“The place is fine as it is,” Stan grumbled, causing both Cyb and Moira to roll their eyes, much to Nate’s amusement.

“You clearly haven’t seen the survey,” he told Stan. “It’s not just the cosmetic stuff, there’s some real fundamental stuff that needs fixing.”

“And this carpet really has to go,” Cyb added, prodding at the paisley carpet with the toe of her sensible-heeled shoe.

Nate ignored her. “Carrie is going to need a lot of help to make this work.” He wasn’t sure even she realized how much.

The Seniors all nodded, without apparently appreciating his point.

“She’s got two weeks, no budget, and a bride who really wants to get married here. And us. That’s it. So we are going to give her all the help she needs,” he added in a firm tone.

The nods came slower this time, but they did come. Eventually.

“I could certainly help with choosing the soft furnishings,” Cyb said, looking around at the matching paisley-patterned curtains surrounding the backstage area. “My Harry always said I had quite an eye.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Moira said. “Any way that she needs us.”

They all turned to look at Stan. Eventually he glanced away and shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she could do it without us.”

Nate took that as all the agreement he was likely to get. He just hoped it would be enough.

Chapter 4

“Can’t we go back to meeting at the Avalon?” Cyb asked. In the corner of the Red Lion, a fruit machine paid out, resulting in flashing lights, chinking coins, tinny music and whoops of satisfaction from the crowd of young men gathered around it. The novelty of their new meeting place had most definitely worn off.

Stan gave her a stern look. “Not exactly the best way to keep our plans secret, now, is it?”

“But why do we have to be secret? We’re helping Carrie.”

Cyb looked to Moira for backup, but the other woman shook her head. “Because she’s Nancy’s granddaughter.”

Which made no sense at all. Cyb sat back in her chair and let her arms droop by her sides. “Well, I’m stumped.”

“Look at it this way,” Moira said with a gentle smile. “If you wanted Nancy to do something, even if it was for her own good, what did you have to do?”

“Pretend you wanted her to do the opposite,” Cyb answered promptly.

“And why was that?” Moira continued.

“Because she was an ornery old...” Stan started, but Moira shushed him.

“Because she always wanted to do everything herself, and do it her own way. You had to convince her everything was her own idea,” Cyb said, finally seeing where Moira was going. “You think Carrie’s the same?” And if so, she wasn’t the only one. Cyb cast a speculative glance at Stan.

Moira laughed. “From the stories Nancy used to tell, I know she is. So we need to tread carefully.”

“Fine,” Cyb said slowly. “But how do we do that?”

“Well, first we need to inform your blessed grandson of the plan,” Stan said to Moira, his voice gruff. “You know he got someone in to raise the terrace this morning? Without so much as a by-your-leave to Carrie.”

“How do you know that?” Moira asked.

“Izzie called me before you ladies got here.” He held up his aging mobile phone, which Cyb happened to know used to belong to his youngest granddaughter, as if it were the latest in modern technology. “Got to stay connected, haven’t we?”

“Did she really mind? I mean, it needed doing didn’t it?” Cyb asked, worried. After all, there was little point putting in new carpets and curtains if the whole building might fall down around them.

“Yes it did,” Moira said firmly. “It’s going to need a whole lot more doing to it, too. But at least this way it won’t have sunk into the marsh before they can get round to it.”

“And who’s going to do all that work, I’d like to know,” Stan muttered. “After Nate got rid of the builder, too.”

“She’s got a builder,” Moira told him, leaving Stan looking surprised. “Nate called some friends of his, and they’re coming out to the inn to give her a proper estimate this afternoon.” She gave Stan a sideways glance. “I imagine it was one of them at work on the terrace this morning.”

Stan stared at her, obviously not wanting to ask how she knew more than he did, until Moira pulled a considerably shinier and more streamlined phone from her handbag. “Nate keeps me informed.”

Cyb held back a fond smile. Yes, he wasn’t without his faults, but Stan was a good man. A caring, passionate man. And Harry had been gone a very long time. Maybe it was time for her to start living again, at last. Once she’d figured out a way to make Stan think it was his idea.

Stan cleared his throat, shrugged, and tried to take back control of the meeting. “Well, obviously the most important thing is that we keep the lines of communication open between ourselves. But let’s get back to the real issue. If we don’t want Carrie to know we’re helping, how are we going to help?”