“So,” Ruth asked, raising her glass. “I think the occasion deserves a toast.”
“To what?” Carrie asked, but raised her glass anyway.
“To you rescuing the Avalon, and to me getting my Cool Water Roses.”
Carrie rolled her eyes, but Nate said, “To the Avalon,” and Izzie and Jacob echoed it from the bar, so she joined in.
“It’s a shame Graeme couldn’t be here tonight,” Carrie said, as Ruth poured them all more whiskey. “I’m sure he wanted to be.”
Ruth snorted, and Nate looked at her in surprise. Carrie knew the feeling. Ruth was so blond and petite and delicate that it was hard to imagine her being anything other than perfectly elegant. “He just wants this thing to happen, with minimal inconvenience to himself and his job.”
Carrie blinked. “Well, a wedding is only one day in a marriage, I suppose.” She took a large gulp of her whiskey and didn’t look at Nate. They really needed Graeme to want to get married at the Avalon.
“Exactly,” Ruth said, and topped up her glass. “Which is what I kept telling my mother all the way up here.”
“Fun journey,” Nate said. “Did she agree with you?”
Ruth put on her best Selena voice. “‘If a man can’t show interest in his own wedding day, what’s to say he’ll show any interest in his wife, once it’s over?’” She sighed. “He’s a very busy man, is all. I know he wants to marry me.” Ruth looked between them, then glanced over at the bar. “I think your staff just found the tequila,” she said, dislodging Pusscat and getting to her feet. “And you know how I love tequila.”
Carrie did know. And she was afraid the next day was going to be a complete write-off.
“Come on,” Ruth added, holding a hand out to Carrie.
“I’ll be there in a second,” Carrie promised, and watched Ruth weave her way to the bar.
“What do you think?” Nate asked, snagging Ruth’s half-full whiskey glass. “Will he go through with it?”
“I’ve never met the man,” Carrie said, looking up at him. “She’s only been with him a few months.”
“What happens if he gets cold feet?” Nate’s voice was soft but serious.
Carrie didn’t answer. Instead, she got to her feet, smoothed down her skirt and said, “I’d better go protect the rest of the spirits from Ruth and her new friends,” and headed over to the bar.
Glancing back, Carrie could see Nate staring after her, his gray eyes contemplative. But she refused to think the worst just yet. For now she was going to believe in Graeme the devoted fiance, who would love the Avalon. If he ever got there.
Ruth handed her a shot glass, and the night became a little fuzzy around the edges.
* * * *
Wednesday night meant Bridge night at the Avalon Inn. Carrie had managed to avoid them since she’d arrived but, in the spirit of their new collaborative effort to save the inn, she figured she should at least show her face. Especially since it seemed they’d be going on for some time to come. So, on the last Wednesday in October, Carrie shut down her laptop early and headed downstairs to find the action.
The Seniors had set up camp in the bar, shifting tables into position and moving chairs at will. Carrie, perched on a barstool with a well-earned glass of wine, watched in amazement. Bridge didn’t appear to need all the props and decorations Dance Night required, but the bar still looked utterly different.
Under the window, three rectangular tables were laid out in a line, covered in dark red cloths Carrie hadn’t realized they owned. As each player entered the room, they put a plate of some sort of eatables on the table. By the time they were all in, there was a pretty impressive banquet of quiche, sandwiches and salads lined up.
Jacob had set up huge urns of tea and coffee at one end, along with cups and saucers, but most of the players were ordering from the bar. Nate, apparently, had been shanghaied into being barman for the night, and was mixing pink gins and Campari and sodas with the sort of ease that suggested this was a regular occurrence.
“Do we actually have bar staff?” Carrie asked during a lull in the ordering.
“Not exactly.” Nate wiped off a glass with a bar towel and replaced it on its shelf. “There’s not usually a lot of demand on the bar. The Seniors help themselves and keep a tally by the till. And on Sundays we have Henry the part-time barman, who comes in to deal with the walkers and such passing through.”
“And then there are nights like tonight.” Carrie watched as he cleaned another glass with quick, efficient movements. “How did you get roped in?”
Nate shrugged. “We usually hire in extra staff for events–most often Henry, to be honest–but for things like this, it’s just easier for me to do it.” And cheaper, Carrie thought. “Besides,” Nate went on, with a smile, “I’m here anyway, and this way I don’t have to play Bridge.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Moira said, waving an empty glass at him. “Ted and Noreen can’t make it, so we’re down a pair. You play, don’t you, Carrie?” Nate refilled his grandmother’s gin and tonic, and she took it back saying, “Bless you. Grandsons are wonderful things.”
“Not really...” Carrie tried, but Nate interrupted, saying, “If I have to play, you have to play.”
Carrie sighed. “I could try, I suppose.”
“Excellent. Then I suggest you charge your glasses before we start!” Moira bounded over to her table, where she sat with three other women Carrie didn’t recognize.
“There are a lot of people here,” Carrie said, as Nate filled up her wine glass. “I didn’t think it would be so popular.”
Nate handed her the wine bottle. “Better take this, too. You might need it.” He slid out from behind the bar, pint in hand. “I guess there aren’t many opportunities for this sort of thing anymore. It’s always been a big draw.”
“It’s nice.” Carrie watched the tables start to deal hands, some with more bickering than others. “I’m starting to see why Nancy wanted to make sure this carried on.”
“Good,” Nate said. “Now, we’d better get to our table before someone comes hunting for us.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the maze of tables to one by the fire, where Cyb and Stan sat.
“Oh good!” Cyb looked up with a big smile. “I was wondering what we’d do without Ted and Noreen. Noreen’s had a bit of a turn today, it seems, and Ted didn’t want her out and about tonight.”
“I just hope you two are better players,” Stan grumbled. “Always fighting over their system, those two are. As if either of them can remember if a raised eyebrow means a face card. Can’t remember what day it is most of the time.”
“Don’t be unkind,” Cyb said mildly. “They’re lovely people. And you like Noreen’s open turkey pie, don’t you try to deny it.”
“I didn’t say the woman couldn’t cook,” Stan pointed out. “Now, can I at least assume you two
know how to play?”
“It has been a while,” Carrie admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll pick it up again.”
Stan didn’t look so sure. “You’d better partner Nate then. Cyb’s not much of a player, but at least I already know her weaknesses. You’d be an unknown quantity.”
“We can always swap later,” Nate said, but the look on Stan’s face suggested this wasn’t very likely.
By the time they’d played the first hand, Carrie was already wishing she’d paid more attention when Nancy had tried to teach her to play. Or that she at least remembered more about the game than that the dummy hand system allowed a murder to be committed in an Agatha Christie novel.
“Two hearts.” Nate declared his bid, watching her carefully over the table. He, at least, seemed to know what he was doing.
Carrie gave him a helpless smile in return, and he rolled his eyes as the bidding continued. She managed a, “Um, one spade,” when her turn came up, but she really wasn’t all that sure.
“It doesn’t seem very fair that you two are stuck with me all night,” she said, after another confusing hand. “I mean, I barely know what I’m doing.”
Cyb patted her hand. “You’re doing very well dear.”
“Maybe I can see if Moira would let us all swap around a bit,” Stan said, and wandered off toward Moira’s table.
Nate poured Carrie some more wine from her bottle and said, “Clearly, we are going to have to practice before next week.”
The idea of having to play a game of cards she barely understood with a group of senior citizens week on week on week should have been terrifying. Two weeks ago, she would have run screaming from the idea.