Room for Love (37 page)

Anna looked particularly sour in her gray suit, so unsuitable for this suddenly wild and relaxed wedding.

“Well, it is Ruth’s favorite,” Carrie said with a hesitant smile.

Why didn’t she tell him why it had to be fish and chips? Why on earth would she protect Anna Yardley after everything she’d done? Then he realized: to protect Ruth. She wanted Ruth to be able to enjoy every last moment of her day before learning what really happened. And if Patrick knew, it was pretty certain everyone else at the Avalon would soon enough.

Ruth appeared in the doorway from the bar, looking flushed and with Graeme close behind her. “There you are! Carrie, I want to toss the bouquet.”

Nate almost laughed at the horrified look that flashed across Carrie’s face, but that would have given away his position. Instead, he watched as Patrick started to lead Anna back to the ballroom, saying, “You won’t want to miss this, Ann, will you!”

Ruth and Carrie lingered a little longer, though, and Nate suddenly felt that maybe he shouldn’t be watching this.

“Promise not to throw it directly at me?” Carrie asked, looked resigned.

“You deserve it, after all you’ve done for me today.” Ruth gave her a pointed look, as if waiting for her to confess something.

Carrie wriggled her shoulders under Ruth’s gaze, but all she said was, “It was your wedding day. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“And it was,” Ruth assured her, and Nate liked her even more in that moment than he had since she arrived. Because while the day had been a lot of fun, it certainly hadn’t been perfect, especially if she’d been paying attention to the details. “It was more wonderful than anything Anna could have planned, because it was made to suit me and Graeme.”

“I’m sorry about your lamb. And the band. And the flowers.” Carrie looked up, and Nate could see tears in her eyes.

“Firstly, I love fish and chips. Lamb’s too fatty a meat for me. Secondly, Nate’s much better than any of the bands we heard. Everyone’s talking about how we got the famous Singing Gardener to perform at our wedding.” Nate blinked in amazement at that, but Ruth went on, “Actually, you might want to warn him he’s likely to get a few booking requests in the near future. And thirdly... What was wrong with the flowers?”

Carrie looked so miserable, Nate was sure she was about to confess everything. “Nothing at all,” he said stepping into the lobby. “I thought they looked stunning.”

“Didn’t they?” Ruth said, beaming.

Carrie smiled. “They were gorgeous. Now, come on. I need to dodge a bouquet.”

Ruth bashed her lightly on the head with her flowers. “Don’t you dare.”

While Stan turned down the music, Ruth strode to the middle of the empty dance floor. “Okay then, girls,” she called back to the crowd, a wicked smile on her face.

Carrie resigned herself to her fate, and joined the press of women watching the flowers, situating herself at the back. Didn’t want to make it too easy for her cousin, after all.

Ruth gave her a look, like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Now, don’t forget girls, I was on the university netball team.” Then she turned and, without hesitation, tossed the bouquet.

Right into Carrie’s arms.

Carrie sighed and held the flowers up for Ruth to see, as she spun back ’round, that she had been right on target, as usual. Ruth clapped her hands together and squealed. Rushing over to wrap an arm around Carrie’s shoulders, she squeezed her too tightly, then turned to address the surrounding crowd.

“I know the time for speeches is over, and I know Graeme said all our thank-yous earlier, but I’ve always thought it was a bit unfair that the bride didn’t get to say anything.” Ruth flashed her guests a stunning smile, and they all looked a little more indulgent. “So if you’ll just bear with me for a moment, I just want to say an extra thank you to my cousin, the owner of this magnificent inn, Carrie Archer.”

Carrie felt a blush rise up her cheeks as the guests started to clap, and tried to pull away gracefully, but it seemed Ruth wasn’t done quite yet. “Carrie has been there for me all through the planning of this wedding. She’s gone above and beyond the call of cousinly duty to make this my perfect day. She even redecorated the Avalon especially for me!” There was a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “So I just want to say...”

A crash behind them made Carrie spin ’round, only to find Nate already standing between her and a crazed Anna Yardley.

The shelves of the antique Welsh dresser had smashed to the floor. Shards of china spread out like spokes in pinks and blues and flowers and swirls, the holly garland that had run along its top lying forlorn on the carpet. And beside it, arms still outstretched from pushing, stood Anna, her dark hair coming loose from its chignon, her eyes wide and wild.

“Perfect day. Hah!” Anna stepped forward, pointing at Carrie and her bouquet. “You have no idea what’s been going on here. I know. Because I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’m good at my job, and because I pay attention. Because I know how incompetent this girl is.”

Nate moved toward Anna as if to grab her arm and hold her back, but Carrie shook her head. Handing the flowers to Ruth, she spoke, soft and calm. “Anna, don’t do this here. Let’s just–”

“These dishes!” Anna grabbed an abandoned plate from a nearby table, ready for the evening buffet. “They’re not vintage, you idiots. They’re charity shop dishes. One of the old people’s home escapees told me. And the dinner! It wasn’t retro chic, or whatever you’re all calling it. It was a disaster. The fridges broke.”

People were starting to mutter now, and Carrie tried desperately to find a way to stop her, but Jacob got there first. “Because you unplugged them! I had my seafood starters and my lovely Welsh lamb all prepped in there, you bitch.”

Anna turned her sneering smile on him. “Where’s your proof?” she asked. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t got any.”

“But I’ve got proof it was you who cancelled the band,” Carrie said. “Your signature on the cancellation fax. Sent yesterday, from the Arundel Hotel.”

Anna wasn’t listening. “These flowers,” she said, ripping the bouquet from Ruth’s arms. “They’re not your precious Cool Water roses! They were dyed in someone’s kitchen. Just ask the one in the wheelchair–I heard her talking about it with the receptionist.”

“But...what happened to my roses?” Ruth asked, her brow crinkled.

“I destroyed them!” Anna yelled back, beyond denial. “Like I destroyed everything else about your perfect day.”

“But you didn’t,” Ruth said, and Carrie felt a brief flicker of hope. “Despite everything you did, Carrie made this day wonderful.”

“But what I don’t understand is why you did it,” Carrie said. “You must have known I’d find the money one way or another. I was never coming back to work for you. What did you get out of this?”

“Satisfaction.” Anna sounded out every syllable. “I taught you everything you know. I was your mentor. And I want you to know you can’t do it without me.”

“Yes, I can,” Carrie said automatically, and was amazed to find she believed it. “And I will.”

“Not if I sue you for breach of contract.” Anna held up several sheets of paper, fished out of her clutch bag, her crazy smile growing even wider. “When you joined Wedding Wishes, you signed a contract stating that, in the event of your leaving the company, you would not take with you any clients currently signed to the Wedding Wishes books.” Anna flicked through the pages, and pointed to Carrie’s name at the bottom. “This is your signature, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Carrie said. “But I didn’t...”

“And yet, after you left for this godforsaken inn, I had three different couples cancel with Wedding Wishes, saying they only wanted to work with you.” Anna smiled, and Carrie saw more of her teeth than she ever had before. “Breach of contract.”

Carrie tried to get her mind around that. “But...but they didn’t come
here.
I’m not a wedding planner anymore. I’m an inn owner. I haven’t spoken to any of them.”

Anna shook her head. “Not the point. I lost commission, I lost stature and I lost business. And you should pay for that.”

Carrie could feel the crowd behind her growing bigger, as guests found their way in from the terrace and the bar to see what was happening. She was even faintly aware of her parents, standing in the doorway behind Anna.

She turned to Nate. His gray eyes were angry, but on her behalf, she knew, not at her. And every tense muscle in his body seemed to be saying,
What do you need me to do? How can I save you?

But Carrie had come to the Avalon Inn to do something by herself for a change. To achieve her own dream.

And she was not ready to give that up.

“No,” she said, sharply enough to cut across all the other muttering. The room fell silent, and Anna Yardley turned her attention to her. “And I would suggest that you think very hard before making a decision about taking any of this to court. After all, I have proof that you tried to sabotage a client’s wedding.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t care anymore,” Anna said, but she looked a little shaken.

Carrie smiled again. “Besides, we don’t need proof. Do we, Ruth?”

“Of course not.” Ruth stepped forward, her expression harder than Carrie had ever seen it. “These things aren’t won in the courts, Anna, you know that. Do you honestly think, by the time I’ve finished telling the whole of Manchester and every bridal magazine in the country what you tried to do to my wedding there’ll be a single couple that wants Wedding Wishes to organize theirs?”

Anna actually took a step back in the face of Ruth’s rage. Carrie let out just a small smile.

“It seems unlikely,” Carrie said, moving forward into Anna’s space, treading carefully around the broken china. “Now, I will be sending a check for the money you invested, minus the cost of repairing the dresser and replacing the dishes. And, actually, my wages for the last three months, which mysteriously never reached my bank account. I will leave it up to Uncle Patrick to decide whether Wedding Wishes deserves its fee for this wedding, although I would suggest not. And with that, my employment with you is ended.” She reached past Anna and opened the door to the lobby. “And I never, ever want to see you again.”

Anna stepped backward again, into the waiting hands of Stan Baker who, clutching her upper arms tightly enough that Carrie could see the jacket crease, said, “I think it’s time for you to go, young lady. Now, I’d appreciate it if you did that quickly, because there’s a certain somebody I’m waiting to dance with.” As he led Anna through the lobby, he called over his shoulder, “Cyb? See if they’ve got any Bing Crosby on that contraption of theirs.” With a huge smile, Cyb went to obey.

“Feel better now?” Nate asked, and Carrie smiled up at him. She could see Ruth ranting at her parents, Graeme still holding the waist of her gown. And she could see her father beaming at her across the room and knew he would be offering his accountant services again to sort out what she owed Wedding Wishes and she didn’t even care.

“Much,” she said, smiling.

“Well then.” Nate plucked Ruth’s bouquet from her hands, and Carrie blinked. She hadn’t even noticed she’d grabbed it from Anna. Seemed she did want it after all. “Want to come look at the moon?” he asked, the words a low rumble behind his breast bone.

Carrie looked up at him. “Is that a euphemism for making out on the terrace?”

Nate grinned. “Could be.” He tucked her free hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the doors, ignoring Ruth’s call behind them. Carrie decided her cousin could wait a little while before her full wedding day debrief. It was her wedding night, after all. Surely she had something better to do.

Carrie knew
she
did.

Despite the December chill, the terrace was already populated with a few improbable couples who either hadn’t heard the ruckus inside or had rushed straight out again after it was over. The latter even included Jacob and Izzie, finally. But Nate tugged her farther along, to an area unlit by the lights in the ballroom, shadowed and shaded by trellis and greenery. It took her a moment, but when Carrie glanced over at the nearest window, she realized where they were. Exactly where Nate had kissed her for the first time over fourteen years ago.

“I’ve been thinking about your question,” Carrie said, resting her head against Nate’s broad chest, as he leaned back against the railings.

“Really,” he replied, and Carrie could feel the words as he said them. “Whenever did you have time?”

“While I was watching the wedding.”

“I missed it,” Nate pointed out. “I had to get capers.”

“And Jacob’s special tartar sauce was well worth it. Dad wants to patent the recipe.” Carrie rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. “It has occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to do everything on my own.”

“I think I might have mentioned something to that effect before.”

Carrie glanced up at him, her hands resting on his hips. “Do you want to say I told you so? Or do you want to kiss me?”

“Definitely the latter.” Nate bent his head and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “But I still need to hear you say it.”

Carrie sighed and looked out from the terrace, over her land. Her home. “I need you. Not just as a gardener or Mr. Fix-it.” She caught his gaze, and matched the seriousness in his eyes. “I need you here, with me. There’s no point in having all this, if I don’t have you to share it with. As equals.”