“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.
So for now, she could afford to take pity on him. “Of course we can. But I just wanted you to know that the possibility was there.” She patted his arm. “You just think about it. Mr. Baker.”
He was still bright red as she sashayed into the dining room.
Mission accomplished. Maybe she’d have to suggest the plan to Izzie. God only knew the girl could use all the help she could get with Jacob.
* * * *
Nate tugged at the collar of his new shirt as he entered the dining room, transformed again for the party. Today it was a ballroom, complete with new velvet drapes over the windows and the large wooden dance floor they put down in squares for wedding discos taking center stage in the middle of the floor. Jacob had run long tables along the wall at the end farthest from the stage, and they groaned under the weight of an eclectic mix of foods. Feeling his stomach growl and suddenly remembering that in the rushed trip to town with his gran to buy a new shirt earlier, he’d forgotten to have lunch, Nate headed for the buffet.
“Gave up on the idea of a theme for the food, did we?” he asked Jacob, as he reached the first serving station and found the chef doling out a pasta dish and some sort of curry.
“You can’t put barriers on culinary genius,” Jacob said, serving him some of both on the same side of the plate. “Besides, Stan told me the Mayor loves curry, and we’d already planned the pasta alfredo. Figured it never hurts to have too much food.”
“It’ll mop up the alcohol at least,” Nate agreed, glancing over at the three-people-deep crush for the makeshift bar against the adjoining wall. “Is the main bar open?”
Jacob nodded. “Think so. Carrie hopes that if everyone’s good and plastered, they won’t notice some of the...less aesthetic areas she hasn’t fixed yet.”
“Like most of the bedrooms.” Nate shook his head. “Well, as long as we get the vomit stains out before the wedding.”
With a grin, Jacob nodded his head at Ruth, already on the dance floor with an older man Nate didn’t recognize, champagne glass still in hand. “I don’t reckon the bride to be will be in any fit state to complain tonight anyhow, to be honest. That’s her fourth glass of champagne already.”
Nate checked his watch. Just gone nine-fifteen. It was going to be a long night.
Plate fully laden, Nate headed toward the bar, hoping for a seat and maybe even something to drink. But his plans were thwarted before he reached the door, as Ruth swung her partner in his direction, calling, “Nate!” loud enough that he couldn’t even in good conscience pretend not to hear.
“Ruth,” he said, turning to smile at her. After all, she was Carrie’s cousin, and her wedding was singlehandedly saving the inn. And paying for most of the food he was eating, actually. “Having fun?”
“Lots.” Ruth waved a hand at her dance partner. “I wanted to introduce you to Carrie’s father, Peter Archer. Uncle Peter, this is Nate.”
Nate’s smile froze, just a little. At least he’d put on a new shirt.
Juggling his plate and cutlery, he stretched out a hand to the older man. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Nathanial Green, the gardener.”
Ruth opened her mouth as if to say something more about his role at the Avalon Inn, and Nate, remembering the four glasses of champagne, shot her a quick, unmistakable look that persuaded her to close it again.
“Nathanial Green,” Peter echoed. “I recognize that name. Mum ce
rtainly must have mentioned you.” He paused, brow furrowed, then clicked his fingers. “Didn’t you stay here one summer, when you were younger?”
Nate nodded, aware that Ruth was giving him a most peculiar look. “I did, yes. Nancy put me to work in the gardens then too.”
The band on the stage started up another rousing song, and Ruth’s face broke out into her more familiar smile. “Uncle Peter, you must dance with me to this one!”
Peter looked rather long-suffering at the prospect, but dutifully trailed after her onto the dance floor. Nate gave a small sigh of relief and continued his hunt for a drink.
The bar was much quieter than the main ballroom, with just a few couples lounging in the chairs by the window, Carrie perched on a barstool and Stan serving drinks behind the counter. Nate unloaded his plate onto the wooden surface of the bar and hopped onto the stool beside Carrie.