* * * *
It took Carrie a moment to stop marvelling 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 emphasised 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 realised 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, doughnut 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 honour of her arrival, our next song will be one of Nancy’s favourites.” Stan signalled 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.” She should have added all the other things she felt sorry for—Mr Jenkins, the builder, him being stuck at the Avalon at all, thanks to her gran. But she didn’t.
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. Given, well, everything.”
“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. Don’t worry, I’m not planning some sort of coup on the inn.”
“I never thought you were,” Carrie said. She just knew he thought she couldn’t do this on her own. “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 this morning?’ 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 as if he knew all her secrets.
“So, how did it go this morning?”
Too late, Carrie remembered she’d been trying to avoid getting into this position with Nate tonight. He asked too much, too close. She didn’t want to admit she was almost out of options.
“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 a short visit. They told me about the offers. I said no.” 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 hers.
“So, they didn’t have any other magic solutions to the cash-flow problem, then?”
“Not exactly,” Carrie admitted. “But I do have a potential booking!”
“For a wedding?” Nate sounded disbelieving. “Here?”
“My cousin, Ruth. She’s always wanted to get married here. And her father would be willing to pay plenty for a decent venue…”
“Enough to fix this place up?”
“To make a start, at least.”
“Would they invest, do you think? Longer term?”
Carrie winced. “I don’t know.”
“Have you asked them?” Carrie shook her head against his chest. “Will you?”
“Not unless I have to.” Carrie sighed. “Look, I know you don’t understand this, but I don’t want a handout. I want to do this myself.”
Nate stopped the circles on her back. “Oh, I understand. I just don’t agree. You need help here, Carrie. Not because you’re not capable, but because nobody could do this alone.”
Silence fell between them as Bing kept singing. They were barely moving now, let alone dancing.
“So, when’s this bride of yours coming up to see the place?” Nate asked.
“Soon, I hope. I was thinking two weeks’ time? She wants a Christmas wedding for some godforsaken reason, so we don’t have long. She’ll probably bring her parents, as well as her fiancé.” As long as Ruth and Graeme hadn’t actually broken up over the choosing of the ring, of course. Oh, God, she