Room for Love (26 page)

“Actually,” Carrie said, surprised to hear the words coming from her own mouth, “I think it was a business thing.”

Ruth looked skeptical. “What sort of business?”

“That’s what I need to go and find out. Can I leave you to settle in here for half an hour?” Carrie pushed herself up to a sitting position.

With a grin, Ruth flopped fully onto her back and stretched out across the bed. “In the name of true love? Anything. But we’re talking about the quitting thing later, you know.”

“It’s not true...” Carrie started, but gave up when she saw the smirk on Ruth’s face. “Oh, whatever.”

It’s not love,
she told herself as she made her way down the stairs.
It’s...infatuation. Lust, certainly. And friendship, perhaps. Trust. Being able to rely on someone.

Carrie sighed and ignored the voice in her head sounding a lot like Ruth that pointed out what she’d just described sounded a lot more like love than she’d had with any of her previous boyfriends. And they’d only known each other a few months.

Enough of that. She’d go talk to Nate about his ex-girlfriend’s business thing, before coming back and run through the plan for the wedding with Ruth. A shower and a change of clothes and maybe she’d even find time to put on makeup before the party. That was the plan, and nothing was going to disrupt it.

“Um, Carrie?” Izzie called up. “There’s somebody here to see you...”

But Carrie could already see the man standing in the window. And by the time he turned around, she already knew that nothing would go to plan for the rest of the day.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, with a worried looking smile.

Carrie sighed. “Hello, Dad.”

* * * *

Nate should be up at the inn with everyone else, getting things ready for the party. At the very least, he should be at his summerhouse, checking he had a clean shirt for the re-opening. But instead he was up to his elbows in moss and mud, planting snowdrop plants because he’d left it too late for bulbs and he’d heard Carrie mention to Cyb last week that when she was young they always used to grow on the edges of the woods. So he’d spent a fortune buying the plants from the garden center, rather than wait and plant bulbs for next year.

This was getting ridiculous.

Regardless, Nate shoved in another plant. Carrie would have her snowdrops, whether she wanted them, or him, or not.

He was actually surprised she hadn’t come to find him yet. He shouldn’t be, really, after the endless weeks of him being invisible. But he’d realized after their conversation the night before that he’d never managed to tell her what the business proposition he’d been discussing with Melody actually was. And Carrie wasn’t the sort of person who was good with suspense. He’d half expected her to show up at his summerhouse in the middle of the night, demanding to know what was going on.

He’d been a little disappointed that hadn’t happened, actually.

Still, it was hours later, and still no sign of her. He wondered what that said about how mad she was about his trip.

As he started to dig the hole for the next plant, his back pocket started vibrating, followed by the irritating ringtone Izzie had swapped his out for last time they were in the pub and he’d never quite gotten around to switching back. Brushing his hands off on his jeans, he tugged out the phone and glanced at the screen. “Talk of the devil,” he muttered, pressing the button to answer.

“Nate?” Melody’s voice was sharp and quick, and he could hear the traffic behind her.

“Melody. Any news for me?” Nate sat back on his heels. Maybe he’d be able to present the plan to Carrie as a
fait accompli
. That would be nice. Maybe at the party that night.

“Some.” The line crackled, and she said, “Hang on, let me just....” There was a pause, presumably while Mel found somewhere quieter to take the call. Nate rolled his eyes, even if she couldn’t see him. Why she couldn’t just find a quiet place to make the call in the first place, he’d never been able to figure out.

“Okay, sorry, I know, you’re rolling your eyes at me.” Mel’s words rushed out on top of each other, but at least they were clearer now she was away from the traffic. “So, I’ve spoken with some people here, and there is interest in our idea. We’ll need to speak with the owner, of course, and we’d need to work up some detailed episode plans to submit.” There was a slight pause. “I could come up to the inn and we could work on that together, if you’d like.”

With the clearer line, Nate could hear the tentative note in her voice, not something he often associated with Melody. She was putting something on the line here. Her heart, he wondered, or just her pride? Either way, his answer was the same. “Why don’t I draft up some ideas, and I’ll email them down to you,” he said, hoping that it was a gentle enough brush-off that she wouldn’t be offended, but clear enough that she wouldn’t offer again. Getting involved with Melody for a second time would be sheer idiocy, and Nate knew it. Even if it was tempting sometimes.

She knew him, and liked him anyway. At least, she had when he was famous. And she was probably going to be his boss again. Apparently that never ended well.

Besides, all he could really think about at the moment was Carrie. And Melody hated being anyone’s second thought in the morning.

“We’ll talk about it later,” was all Mel said.

“And I’ll talk to Carrie,” he said, already trying to formulate the best approach.

“Yes, the boss.” Mel gave a humourless laugh. “You always did have a thing for women in authority, didn’t you, Nate?”

She rang off before he had a chance to argue, and it left him wondering if she was right. Not about the power thing, necessarily, but was he just setting himself up for the same mistakes he’d made with Mel? Was Carrie right after all?

He looked around him at the newly planted snowdrops, white and bright against the dead winter ground. It didn’t matter if Carrie was right, it seemed. He was too far gone anyway.

And with that discovery, he set off to find a clean shirt for the party and then Stan, in that order. He had something to add to the party agenda.

Chapter 10

“What are you doing here, Dad?” Carrie poured them both one of Jacob’s extra-strong coffees.

“You look like you need it,” the chef had whispered as he handed over the tray, and Carrie had felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude for this entire hotel of people who noticed when she needed something.

Her father took his cup and rested it on his knee, still leaning forward, his face anxious. “I spoke with your boss the other day...”

Carrie rolled her eyes, and said, “Ex-boss,” but Peter Archer pressed on.

“She’s very worried about you, sweetheart.”

“She’s really not, Dad.” Carrie grabbed a ginger biscuit from the tray. He wasn’t the only one to have calls. Anna had phoned and emailed at least twice a day since Carrie had quit, checking up on all the tiny details for Ruth’s wedding, which fell under Carrie’s domain. As if when she’d stopped being a Wedding Wishes employee, Carrie had lost all ability to do her job.

“She said she’d been out to visit the inn.” He paused, apparently waiting for confirmation, so Carrie nodded. “She said there were some problems.”

Carrie swallowed her mouthful of biscuit. “We’re just getting set up, Dad. These things take time.”

“She said you quit your job. Gave up her offer of financial support.” His face grew sterner. “Actually, she said you were very rude about it. That you said you never wanted to see her again.”

Nice to know Anna could still twist a good story, Carrie thought. Still... “It wasn’t a very good offer. She wanted total control of the Avalon and me back in Manchester.”

“Carrie.” Peter’s voice was hard now, and utterly unsympathetic. “You need her money. I told you when you took this on you’d need a backer. You chose Anna. You need to stick to it.”

“She broke the deal first. She planned to ruin my inn.”

Her dad sighed. “I’m more concerned about your business right now, anyway.” Peter put down his coffee cup and rested one ankle on his knee. “Why don’t you let me take a look at the books? I know Mum can’t have left a lot of money behind, and Anna says there’s a lot needs doing to the inn to make it marketable.”

“I already have an accountant, Dad.” Carrie tried not to let her irritation levels rise, with limited success.

“And I can’t understand why. You must know I’d give you a better deal, and I’m better placed to give you advice and help if I know the state of your finances.” This had been a big bone of contention since Carrie had announced she was taking over the inn. She’d hoped her father might have been getting over it. Apparently not.

“Because I need to do this by myself, Dad. This is my business, my challenge.” Carrie sighed. From the look on Peter’s face, the argument wasn’t getting through. “Besides, I wanted to use someone local. It helps make us more part of the community.”

Peter scoffed. “What does a local boy know about running a profitable business? I bet he’s missing all sorts of important opportunities for you, Carrie.”

“Alex worked in the city for the last ten years, before he moved home,” Carrie said, before her father could go any further. “He knows what he’s doing, Dad.”

“Well.” Peter sank back into his chair. “I’d just feel better if I knew how things were going here. You used to tell me everything, Carrie. Now I have no idea if you’re going to be declaring bankruptcy in the next six weeks or not.”

There was a cough from the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Stan said, looking so curious Carrie didn’t think he was actually at all sorry. “But Jacob wanted to ask you some questions about the timings for tonight’s menu, Carrie.”

“Tonight?” Peter asked, looking up. “What’s happening tonight?”

Carrie sighed. She supposed it was inevitable. “It’s the Avalon Inn re-opening night party.”

Her dad’s face fell. “And you didn’t invite us?”

It hit Carrie suddenly, a pain in the center of her chest. She’d been so preoccupied with making it on her own, with keeping the Avalon Inn as her special project, she hadn’t even invited her parents to what might prove to be the biggest night of her life.

Stan came to the rescue. “We do have one bedroom free for tonight, if you’re able to join us.”

“We do?” Carrie asked. She was actually pretty sure they’d all been assigned.

Stan nodded. “The Green Room will be free.”

The Green Room, Carrie knew from hours staring at the rooming lists, was Stan’s room. She’d wanted all the Seniors to have a chance to stay at the inn as a very small thank you for all the hard work they’d put it. And he was giving it up so she could have her daddy at the party.

“That would be great,” Peter said, a broad smile on his face. Then it slipped, and he added, “If it’s okay with Carrie.”

Carrie nodded furiously. “Of course it is! In fact, why don’t you come with me to talk with Jacob? I can show you around a bit, before the party.”

“That would be lovely,” her dad said, looking so pleased Carrie had to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. As Nate kept telling her, just because she was doing this by herself, that didn’t mean she had to be completely alone.

* * * *

“That was a good thing you just did, Stan Baker,” Cyb said, as Stan closed the door to the drawing room behind him.

“Don’t you know better than to listen at doors by now, woman?” Stan’s voice might have been gruff, but his cheeks were pink. Cyb’s heart tightened a little at the sight.

He really was a very good man. Maybe it was time to let him in on the plan, after all. “Of course, that means you haven’t got a room for tonight.”

“I’ve got a house of my own, haven’t I? Think I can manage.”

“Or you could always share with me,” Cyb said, and beamed as Stan turned the most adorable shade of fuchsia.

“I don’t think that would do… Which is to say…well… It’s not entirely appropriate, is it?” Stan stared resolutely over her shoulder, out the front window of the inn.

“That’s sort of the point,” Cyb said gently.

Stan’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “Look, Mrs. Charles–”

“Mrs. Charles!” Cyb hooted.

“I don’t know what sort of relationship you think we’ve been cultivating here–”

“A good one,” Cyb interrupted, before Stan could build up any steam. She rested her hand against his arm, ignoring the way he flinched as she did so, and went on, “Think about it, Stan. We’re neither of us getting any younger. We spend most of our time together anyway. We dance, play cards, talk, have fun. Why not make it official?”

“We’re too old for that sort of nonsense.”

Ladies didn’t snort, so Cyb resisted the urge. “You might be. I am most certainly not.”

“But…can’t we just go on how we have been?” He was almost pleading now. Poor man. Didn’t know if he was coming or going. So much for making him think it was all his own idea. But really, if she’d waited for him to get a clue, she’d have been six feet under before she even got a kiss. She’d planted the seed, she’d just have to water it and tend it, and let it grow in its own time.