It took Carrie a moment to stop marveling at the sight of Nate Green in his uniform and tune in to what Stan was actually saying. After all, the way the khaki shirt emphasized the width of Nate’s shoulders was, quite frankly, much more interesting than any speech Stan could make. Possibly more interesting than any speech Winston Churchill might have been making in this weird time warp.
But then Stan said, “I know all of you here knew and loved Nancy Archer,” and Carrie started paying attention.
“She will be sorely missed, and I’m sure, for many of us, nothing will really be the same now that she’s gone.” Stan looked mournfully down on the crowd and, for a moment, Carrie felt a pang as she realized these people probably knew her grandmother better than she ever had. Even Nate looked affected, although the look on his face seemed more apprehensive than grief-stricken.
“But here tonight, we have with us Nancy’s granddaughter, Miss Carrie Archer.” Stan brightened up with these words and gestured to where Carrie stood, donut in hand and probably with sugar around her mouth. Out of nowhere, a spotlight came to shine on her, and she tried to wipe at her lips without anyone noticing. Nate handed her a napkin, and she gave him a grateful smile.
“Miss Archer is, I’m sure you’ll all be pleased to hear, the new owner of the Avalon Inn. And in honor of her arrival, our next song will be one of Nancy’s favorites.” Stan signaled to Izzie, who was hovering over the iPod in the corner, and the first strains of The Very Thought of You flooded through the room. “Nate, old boy,” Stan said, with an odd tone in his voice. “Why don’t you take your new boss for a turn around the floor?”
Carrie didn’t think she’d ever seen a man look so unexcited at the prospect of dancing with her. “You don’t have to...” she began, but Bing Crosby’s voice started out of the speakers, smooth and warm, and all Carrie could think of was nights dancing around the attic room with Nancy, and she lost the rest of the words she’d meant to say.
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 h
ave 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.