“How soon is as soon as possible?” Carrie asked, desperately trying to get back to the things that mattered.
“Actually, I was thinking of a winter wedding. Maybe even Christmas.”
Christmas wasn’t so bad, Carrie told herself. Fourteen months away. Plenty of time. Unless... “You don’t mean this Christmas, do you?”
Ruth laughed. “Of course, this Christmas. Are you free on Christmas Eve? I think that would be the most romantic day to get married, don’t you?”
Carrie slumped against the embroidered moth cushion on the musty bed, secretly hoping that Ruth and Graeme would break up over the jeweler’s counter. She loved her cousin, really she did. But there was no way they would be ready for a wedding by Christmas.
“Anyway, I know we haven’t got much time, so I’ll email you some bridesmaid dress ideas later, and I’ll check with Graeme when we can come up to see you to sort out the rest, okay?”
Carrie nodded, then realized that was useless. “Great,” she said, unable to muster much enthusiasm.
“Then I’m off to choose my ring!” Ruth said, and hung up.
Carrie had two minutes of staring blankly at the phone before there was a knock at the door, and Nate’s head appeared around it.
“How did you know where I was?” she asked.
Nate came into the room, and shrugged. “Cyb saw you sneak in here earlier. Look, the builder’s here, when you’re ready. Said you called for some new quotes?”
“Yeah.” Carrie grabbed her clipboard and hopped off the bed. “I’m coming.” She wondered what builder Tom would say when she told him she needed all the work done by Christmas, and she still didn’t have any money to pay him.
Chapter 3
As Carrie trailed around the Avalon Inn later that afternoon, always three steps behind the builder she’d called in, she felt her spirits falling by the second. It was all very well trying to save the inn, but really, in the face of Tom Powers of Powers Construction, master of the sucked-in breath and “that’s going to cost you,” how much could one woman do?
Finally, they finished with the inside and headed out to deal with the inn’s exterior.
“This door doesn’t look good, either,” Tom said as they went through the main entrance.
Carrie groaned inwardly. The door was huge, heavy and almost certainly expensive. “The survey didn’t mention it.”
Tom gave her his Listen to me, idiot woman. What do you know about construction, anyway? look, which he’d perfected over the course of his visit. “Hardly surprising, with all the other problems. Surveyor was bound to miss a few things.”
Given that she was probably going to owe the man her first-, second- and third-born children by the time he’d fixed her inn, Carrie decided not to argue.
“How’s it going?” Nate appeared again, this time from behind one of the shrubs lining the drive, shears in hand and a couple of leafy twigs in his hair. Carrie wondered how long he’d been hiding in the bushes waiting for them to arrive. And why he’d bothered.
Tom sucked his breath through his teeth again, making Carrie shudder. “Lot of work here.”
Nate stepped closer, still holding the clippers. “Well, we knew as much from the survey,” His voice was perfectly amiable, Carrie thought, but somehow the huge blades in his hands made the words a little more threatening.
“Tom’s found some problems the surveyor missed, too,” Carrie told him.
Nate flashed her a look miles away from the ones Tom had been giving her all morning. This one was more conspiratorial, somehow. The knot that had set up residence in Carrie’s stomach when they’d started the inspection tightened as she tried to figure out what Nate planned to do. Just in case she needed to stop him.
But all Nate did was say, “Really? Can I take a look?” He reached out and snatched the pad Tom had been scribbling on for the last hour from his hands. Tom didn’t even put up an objection, possibly because of the very sharp blades.
Nate cast a cursory glance over the paper and, before Carrie could even ask to see it, he thrust it back at Tom. “Yeah, she’s not going to be using you.”
“What?” Carrie reached out and grabbed the pad from between the two men. “Tom, don’t listen to him, he’s just the...” The numbers of Tom’s estimate sank in, three times Nancy’s initial quote, and she lowered the paper. “Yeah, sorry, Tom. He’s right.”
For a moment, she thought Tom might argue, but he looked at Nate and obviously decided to cut his losses. Without even taking his notepad, he stalked off toward his car, parked at an angle on the other side of the graveled drive, muttering, “Waste of bloody time.”
Carrie watched him go and wondered how the hell she was going to put together a proper proposal for Anna without building quotes.
“Cheer up.” Nate leaned the shears against the side of the steps leading up to the front door, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they watched Tom Powers screech away in his four-by-four.
Carrie shook off his arm. Just because he was right didn’t mean she was happy about it. “What the hell did you think you were doing just then?”
“He was ripping you off,” Nate said, taking a cautious step backward.
Carrie glared at him. “How do you know? Are you a building expert now, too?”
“The survey was thorough.” Nate’s voice was calm and sincere, but it wasn’t making Carrie any less furious. “I know the guy who did it. If Tom says he missed anything, Tom is trying to rip you off. Probably in any number of ways. Where did you find him, anyway?”
“Internet,” Carrie said, knowing she sounded defensive.
Nate rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well. Either way, I’ve still got to find someone to do this work. And I need to figure out what’s essential and affordable, and what’s going to have to wait.” And convince Anna it was all worth it. All of which meant going back to The List. Carrie was starting to hate The List.
Nate picked up his shears. “Give me a minute to tidy up. I’ve got a friend or two in the building trade. We’ll make some calls.”
Watching him head over to the shrubs to put away his tools, Carrie wanted to scream, I don’t need your help. But unfortunately, it was becoming patently obvious she did.
* * * *
By the end of her first week on the job, Carrie had managed to offend everyone at the Avalon Inn. By Sunday night, even Pusscat had disappeared, probably back to Nate, and Carrie really didn’t have the energy to go and find him. Not to mention the fact she still hadn’t apologized to Nate about Mr. Jenkins or Tom Powers.
The mental apologies list was growing by the hour.
When she awoke on Monday morning, she tucked Nancy’s multicolored bedspread tighter around her in the attic bed and ran through them again to make sure she’d remembered them all.
1. Apologize to Nate for not realizing Mr. Jenkins was an idiot. And for shouting at him about the builder thing
2. Apologize to Moira for leaving the stupid soggy sandwiches out on the reception desk again
3. Apologize to Cyb for saying the bunting made the dining room look like the Eurovision song contest
4. Apologize to Pusscat for forgetting to feed him lunch until four in the afternoon, twice this week
5. Apologize to Izzie for suggesting she didn’t know how to work the reservations system yesterday.
Carrie considered the last item. Izzie really didn’t know how to work the computer program that stored their reservations information. Maybe she’d just teach her, instead.
She’d fully intended the apologies to be the first thing she did on Monday morning, before Anna’s scheduled visit in the afternoon. But by the time Carrie made it downstairs, she found that she had bigger concerns.
Anna Yardley stood waiting for her in the lobby. And apparently she’d brought her lawyer.
“Carrie!” Anna said, when she paused on the stairs. She’d been half hoping Anna hadn’t seen her yet and she could escape back upstairs and pretend sh
e wasn’t home.
“Anna. Mr. Norton. You’re early,” she said instead, reluctantly taking the last few steps down to the reception desk. “I wasn’t expecting you until after lunch.”
Anna shrugged. “I thought, why wait? Besides, we’ve got some exciting news for you.”
Carrie motioned toward the doorway. Maybe Anna and Mr. Norton were getting married, too, and wanted the inn for Bonfire Night. The very image kept Carrie entertained enough to be able to smile and say, “Shall we move into the drawing room, then?”
As Anna and Mr. Norton headed through, Carrie turned to Izzie at the reception desk and added, “Can you get someone to bring us some coffee?” She wasn’t sure she could make it through a meeting with Anna and Mr. Norton without caffeine.
Izzie looked dubious, but she nodded, so Carrie decided to hope for the best.