“Correct. Now, as the bride, you’re supposed to be panicking and trying to make last minute changes.”
“Would that help?” Ruth asked. “Because I do a fine line in unreasonable demands.”
“I think maybe it would be better if you just took charge of welcoming your guests and looking pretty for the dinner tonight,” Carrie suggested. “You can leave the rest to me.”
“Fine by me.” Ruth reached out to pour herself some coffee, but just stared at it. “But I do have to remind you, Anna’s going to be here at two to look over everything for tomorrow.”
Carrie pulled a face. “I know. Believe me.” Just what she needed; her ex-boss still checking over all her work.
“Hey, you managed for five years,” Ruth reminded her. “You can make it through one more wedding.”
The thought was incredibly seductive. Just one more wedding, the most important wedding she’d ever arranged, and Carrie would be free of Wedding Wishes and Anna Yardley forever. Then she could start focusing on the Avalon as hers, again.
She just had to make it through the next forty-eight hours. How hard could it be?
Izzie stuck her frowning face around the door, just as she reached for the coffee, and Carrie cursed herself for even thinking of tempting fate like that.
“What’s happened?” she asked, wondering if Nate’s mystery woman might have fallen down some stairs. “Who’s bleeding?”
“Nothing like that,” Izzie assured her. She shot a nervous glance at Ruth, which made Carrie worry even more. “I’ve just got the florist on the line.”
Carrie jumped to her feet, motioning for Ruth to stay where she was. “Remember, your job today is to stay calm, welcome your guests...”
“And look pretty,” Ruth finished. “I know.” She twisted her engagement ring ’round her finger. “You’ll let me know if there’s a problem, though, right?”
“Absolutely,” Carrie lied, and went to find out what had gone wrong now.
* * * *
“What on earth went on in here last night, boy?” Stan asked, his voice booming, and Nate tried not to wince as he continued the effort of turning the bar back into a respectable hotel drinking establishment.
“Just the usual, Stan. Drunken debauchery and loose morals.” Nate thought he heard Henry stifle a chuckle.
“That’s what I heard,” Stan muttered, just quiet enough for Nate to pretend not to have heard him.
What had Izzie been telling everyone about last night? And most importantly, what had she told Carrie? Nate hadn’t seen hide nor hair of either of them all morning, or he’d have asked, just to be put out of his misery.
“Now, I know I’m not your father,” Stan went on, apparently undeterred by Nate’s lack of answer. “But I think a young man like you needs someone to look out for him.”
“I’m not really that young,” Nate protested.
“I just want to make sure you’re thinking sensibly about this,” Stan said, and Nate wondered if he should just confess to something to get out of the conversation. “You’ve got a responsibility to...”
He trailed off as Carrie came running in, clipboard flapping along behind her.
“Oh, thank God,” Nate muttered. Carrie looked up at him incredulously, and he couldn’t tell if there was anger behind her eyes or not, so he added in a more concerned tone, “What’s happened? Is there blood?”
Carrie shook her head. “It’s more of a floral emergency.”
Nate winced. Ruth had been very particular about her wedding flowers. “No cool water roses?” He’d always suspected they’d have a problem timing the arrival from Ecuador.
“No flowers,” Carrie said. Now that was a problem. “The florist had a break-in last night. Nothing taken, but the vandal snapped or ruined all the flowers. I need you to fix it.”
Nate decided that answered the question of whether Izzie had told her. This was definitely punishment. “How?”
“I don’t care,” she said, and left.
“Quite the challenge,” Stan said, eyebrows raised. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Nate admitted. “But I suspect it will involve my gran.”
“She’s in a wheelchair, son,” Stan reminded him.
“She can arrange flowers sitting down,” Nate pointed out, picking up the bar phone and dialing. “Gran? I need a favor.”
Maybe if he fixed the flowers, Carrie would agree to be in the same room as him long enough for him to explain how kissing Mel had really been for Carrie’s benefit.
Except maybe he wouldn’t put it exactly like that.
* * * *
Anna arrived with a large wheeled suitcase and a list of problems. Starting with, “I’ve just been looking at these Orders of Service, Carrie. Are you aware you’ve misspelt the second reader’s name?”
All Carrie knew was she’d proofed the text for the Orders of Service three times based on the final email received from Anna herself, and a second, double-checking email from Ruth.
“Why don’t I stash your bag for you, then we can go through all the materials and timings for tomorrow before I get someone to take you to your hotel,” she suggested. It was far too early in the festivities to get into that sort of argument.
Anna stared at her. “Why aren’t I staying here? I’m the wedding planner, I need to stay on-site.”
“We only have limited space here, Anna. Ruth wanted just family at the Avalon. I’m sure this was covered in the reports.”
“You’re staying here,” Anna pointed out, and Carrie felt her temper fraying.
“I live here, Anna. And I’m family. Now where do you want to start?”
Twenty minutes later, they’d established that Anna now hated everything about the planned wedding and the Avalon, and probably Carrie herself. Carrie looked down at her list and the endless scribbling she’d added to it, and put down her pen. “Okay. Well, if you’d like to show me the spelling error on your original email we used for the Orders of Service text, I’ll set about getting those reprinted.”
Anna ignored the faint accusation and said, “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Ruth’s aunt would be very upset, I imagine, otherwise.”
Carrie handed over the clipboard without a word and let Anna make the necessary changes. Then she added a note to her mental list to keep both versions, just in case.
“Well, I’ll leave you to sort out these few
things, while I go and get ready for the rehearsal dinner.” Anna got to her feet and brushed down her suit, presumably for invisible inn lint.
“Then I’ll see you at dinner,” Carrie said, keeping a fixed smile on her face until Anna left the room. As the door shut, she sank into her chair and surveyed the list again.
It didn’t look any better.
“You know the flowers aren’t here, right?” Ruth asked from the doorway. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?”
“Everything is under control,” Carrie said, hoping she wasn’t lying. God only knew where Nate would find Cool Water Roses in Coed-y-Capel, or Felinfach, or Aberarian, or anywhere outside of Ecuador, for that matter. But that was his problem. And he deserved it. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
Ruth didn’t look convinced. “Is that your to do list?” She grabbed the clipboard from Carrie’s hands before she could stop her and dropped into the chair Anna had just vacated. “Why are we reprinting the Orders of Service?”
“Because Anna gave me the wrong spelling of your aunt’s name.” As a precaution, Carrie handed over the already printed versions.
Ruth checked it over and said, “No, she didn’t. This is right.”
Not really all that surprised, Carrie struck a line through the re-printing item on the list. “I think she was hoping I’d get them all reprinted and have complaints from your family.”
“She’s getting desperate, then.” Ruth laughed. “I suppose we should be grateful she hasn’t sabotaged the flowers or something.”
Carrie thought about phoning the florist to suggest dusting for prints, but decided convincing Ruth that everything was okay was a higher priority. “Absolutely. Are all your guests here?”
“All except Auntie Celia.” Ruth leaned back in her chair and sighed. “God, they’re exhausting. How do you deal with people all day?”
“To be honest, not really a problem so far at the Avalon.”
Ruth smiled, her eyes still closed. “Give it time.”