Anna turned her sneering smile on him. “Where’s your proof?” she asked. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t got any.”
“But I’ve got proof it was you who cancelled the band,” Carrie said. “Your signature on the cancellation fax. Sent yesterday, from the Arundel Hotel.”
Anna wasn’t listening. “These flowers,” she said, ripping the bouquet from Ruth’s arms. “They’re not your precious Cool Water roses! They were dyed in someone’s kitchen. Just ask the one in the wheelchair–I heard her talking about it with the receptionist.”
“But...what happened to my roses?” Ruth asked, her brow crinkled.
“I destroyed them!” Anna yelled back, beyond denial. “Like I destroyed everything else about your perfect day.”
“But you didn’t,” Ruth said, and Carrie felt a brief flicker of hope. “Despite everything you did, Carrie made this day wonderful.”
“But what I don’t understand is why you did it,” Carrie said. “You must have known I’d find the money one way or another. I was never coming back to work for you. What did you get out of this?”
“Satisfaction.” Anna sounded out every syllable. “I taught you everything you know. I was your mentor. And I want you to know you can’t do it without me.”
“Yes, I can,” Carrie said automatically, and was amazed to find she believed it. “And I will.”
“Not if I sue you for breach of contract.” Anna held up several sheets of paper, fished out of her clutch bag, her crazy smile growing even wider. “When you joined Wedding Wishes, you signed a contract stating that, in the event of your leaving the company, you would not take with you any clients currently signed to the Wedding Wishes books.” Anna flicked through the pages, and pointed to Carrie’s name at the bottom. “This is your signature, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Carrie said. “But I didn’t...”
“And yet, after you left for this godforsaken inn, I had three different couples cancel with Wedding Wishes, saying they only wanted to work with you.” Anna smiled, and Carrie saw more of her teeth than she ever had before. “Breach of contract.”
Carrie tried to get her mind around that. “But...but they didn’t come here. I’m not a wedding planner anymore. I’m an inn owner. I haven’t spoken to any of them.”
Anna shook her head. “Not the point. I lost commission, I lost stature and I lost business. And you should pay for that.”
Carrie could feel the crowd behind her growing bigger, as guests found their way in from the terrace and the bar to see what was happening. She was even faintly aware of her parents, standing in the doorway behind Anna.
She turned to Nate. His gray eyes were angry, but on her behalf, she knew, not at her. And every tense muscle in his body seemed to be saying, What do you need me to do? How can I save you?
But Carrie had come to the Avalon Inn to do something by herself for a change. To achieve her own dream.
And she was not ready to give that up.
“No,” she said, sharply enough to cut across all the other muttering. The room fell silent, and Anna Yardley turned her attention to her. “And I would suggest that you think very hard before making a decision about taking any of this to court. After all, I have proof that you tried to sabotage a client’s wedding.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t care anymore,” Anna said, but she looked a little shaken.
Carrie smiled again. “Besides, we don’t need proof. Do we, Ruth?”
“Of course not.” Ruth stepped forward, her expression harder than Carrie had ever seen it. “These things aren’t won in the courts, Anna, you know that. Do you honestly think, by the time I’ve finished telling the whole of Manchester and every bridal magazine in the country what you tried to do to my wedding there’ll be a single couple that wants Wedding Wishes to organize theirs?”
Anna actually took a step back in the face of Ruth’s rage. Carrie let out just a small smile.
“It seems unlikely,” Carrie said, moving forward into Anna’s space, treading carefully around the broken china. “Now, I will be sending a check for the money you invested, minus the cost of repairing the dresser and replacing the dishes. And, actually, my wages for the last three months, which mysteriously never reached my bank account. I will leave it up to Uncle Patrick to decide whether Wedding Wishes deserves its fee for this wedding, although I would suggest not. And with that, my employment with you is ended.” She reached past Anna and opened the door to the lobby. “And I never, ever want to see you again.”
Anna stepped backward again, into the waiting hands of Stan Baker who, clutching her upper arms tightly enough that Carrie could see the jacket crease, said, “I think it’s time for you to go, young lady. Now, I’d appreciate it if you did that quickly, because there’s a certain somebody I’m waiting to dance with.” As he led Anna through the lobby, he called over his shoulder, “Cyb? See if they’ve got any Bing Crosby on that contraption of theirs.” With a huge smile, Cyb went to obey.
“Feel better now?” Nate asked, and Carrie smiled up at him. She could see Ruth ranting at her parents, Graeme still holding the waist of her gown. And she could see her father beaming at her across the room and knew he would be offering his accountant services again to sort out what she owed Wedding Wishes and she didn’t even care.
“Much,” she said, smiling.
“Well then.” Nate plucked Ruth’s bouquet from her hands, and Carrie blinked. She hadn’t even noticed she’d grabbed it from Anna. Seemed she did want it after all. “Want to come look at the moon?” he asked, the words a low rumble behind his breast bone.
Carrie looked up at him. “Is that a euphemism for making out on the terrace?”
Nate grinned. “Could be.” He tucked her free hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the doors, ignoring Ruth’s call behind them. Carrie decided her cousin could wait a little while before her full wedding day debrief. It was her wedding night, after all. Surely she had something better to do.
Carrie knew she did.
Despite the December chill, the terrace was already populated with a few improbable couples who either hadn’t heard the ruckus inside or had rushed straight out again after it was over. The latter even included Jacob and Izzie, finally. But Nate tugged her farther along, to an area unlit by the lights in the ballroom, shadowed and shaded by trellis and greenery. It took her a moment, but when Carrie glanced over at the nearest window, she realized where they were. Exactly where Nate had kissed her for the first time over fourteen years ago.
“I’ve been thinking about your question,” Carrie said, resting her head against Nate’s broad chest, as he leaned back against the railings.
“Really,” he replied, and Carrie could feel the words as he said them. “Whenever did you have time?”
“While I was watching the wedding.”
“I missed it,” Nate pointed out. “I had to get capers.”
“And Jacob’s special tartar sauce was well worth it. Dad wants to patent the recipe.” Carrie rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. “It has occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to do everything on my own.”
“I think I might have mentioned something to that effect before.”
Carrie glanced up at him, her hands resting on his hips. “Do you want to say I told you so? Or do you want to kiss me?”
“Definitely the latter.” Nate bent his head and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “But I still need to hear you say it.”
Carrie sighed and looked out from the terrace, over her land. Her home. “I need you. Not just as a gardener or Mr. Fix-it.” She caught his gaze, and matched the seriousness in his eyes. “I need you here, with me. There’s no point in having all this, if I don’t have you to share it with. As equals.”
And that, apparently, was just what Nate had been waiting to hear. Lifting her up to sit on the terrace railing, her wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and kissed her, hard.
“That’s all I needed
,” he said, when he finally pulled his lips back. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure out the rest.”
He bent his head to kiss her, and Carrie rose up from her perch to meet him halfway. Sinking into his kiss she welcomed the warmth that enveloped her as his arms held her against him. Nate was right, she decided. They had plenty of time to figure out the details.
After all, it had taken them fourteen years to reach this point. And she was in no hurry to rush the next fourteen.
Carrie closed her eyes and kissed him back.
About Sophie Pembroke
http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=authors&authors_id=206
I love telling stories about friends, family and falling in love, and often set them in my homeland of Wales as a method of combating homesickness. My books all tend to include tea, cake, wine, good food and communities of people coming together. My blog, at www.SophiePembroke.com, features much of the same.
Room for Love is my debut novel, and although the Avalon Inn and the people who inhabit it are all fictional, there are a few real world moments that shine through. The ancient Welsh dresser that houses the Avalon’s china is actually my grandparents’ dresser, which now lives in my kitchen. And Grandma really did work in a donut dugout during the war... I talk some more about the inspiration behind the Avalon on my website.
My next novel, An A to Z of Love, (Lyrical Press, July 2012) is set near the Avalon Inn in the seaside town of Aberarian. In Welsh, aber means ‘mouth of the river’ and arian means ‘silver’ or ‘money.’ Which, incidentally, is just what the town is lacking, and needs, urgently… For details about Aberarian, and how my heroine Mia plans to save it, check out the Books page at www.SophiePembroke.com.
Sophie’s Website:
www.SophiePembroke.com
Reader eMail:
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