“Well, after your success at dance night, you’re the best way in we’ve got,” Stan told him, and for a moment Nate was back on the dance floor with his arms around Carrie Archer. It was, he had to admit, a much more pleasant reality than one that involved plotting some sort of inn-related revolution with his gran and her friends.
“She trusts you, Nate.” Moira sounded a lot more rational about the whole thing, at least. “Especially after this thing with the builder. She’s a lot more likely to tell you what’s going on than the rest of us.”
Nate leaned back in his chair and considered. “Okay, so, supposing we know what’s happening, what exactly are we going to do about it? This place needs to be irresistible in less than two weeks’ time. If the groom is getting nervous, we don’t want to give him any excuse to put things off.”
Stan grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t elaborate, so Nate turned to his gran. Moira gave a broad smile, and said, “Cyb’s had a wonderful idea.”
He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard those words put together before. Trying not to wince, Nate turned his attention to the fourth member of their group. “Cyb?”
“It’s sort of like a Secret Santa thing,” Cyb said. “Except all year round. And really, more like a Secret Good Samaritan, now I think about it.”
Which cleared absolutely nothing up at all. Nate looked back at Moira, who sighed.
“It’s a good plan,” she assured him.
Nate nodded and said, “Tell me.”
“The premise,” Stan interrupted, “is that Carrie is just as stubborn as her grandmother, and wants to do everything herself.”
Nate thought of Carrie, buried deep in the depths of Nancy’s office, refusing to ask for help. Remembered the look on her face when he’d interfered with Tom the rip-off-builder, and when his mate Tony had come by to shore up the terrace. “Okay, I can attest to that. So, how do we help her if she doesn’t want our help?”
“This is where the secret Good Samaritan bit comes in,” Cyb whispered across to him, and Stan glared at her.
“We take care of the little things,” Moira told him, ignoring the other two. “The things she won’t have time to think of.”
“Soaps and things,” Stan put in, and Nate blinked at him in surprise. “Or so they tell me.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “More than that. We try to take on all the details while Carrie deals with the building.”
“It sounds like a good start,” Nate said, not wanting to dampen their spirits. “But are the details really going to make that much of a difference?”
“The devil is in the details,” Cyb told him unhelpfully.
“Curtains? Linens? Fresh flowers? Stationery? New menus? Updating the website?” Moira smiled at him smugly. “I think they’ll make a lot of difference.”
“But how are we going to pay for everything?” Nate had some savings, but not enough to save the Avalon Inn. And the others were living on their not-that-impressive pensions.
“The old-fashioned way,” Stan said. “We’ll beg and borrow—things, not money, mind.”
“We’ll make do and mend,” Cyb added.
“And you,” Moira said, an unholy smile on her face. “You can dig for victory.”
* * * *
The deadline column on Carrie’s to do list had taken on a frightening urgency, dates written in red ink and underlined several times. Ruth would be arriving at the Avalon Inn in less than two weeks, parents and Graeme in tow. Carrie had spent the previous afternoon, evening, and a good portion of the night building her schedule for the next ten days.
Ruth had called back to confirm that she and Graeme would stay overnight and get the train back the next day, so Graeme could make some meeting or another. She’d sounded cross about it, so Carrie hadn’t asked what sort of a business had meetings on a Saturday. Aunt Selena, unsurprisingly, wasn’t willing to risk a night at the Avalon Inn, and they hadn’t been invited to anyway. Which meant only one bedroom had to be in habitable condition, probably the bridal suite since that was what Ruth would want to see most. She had to find somewhere on the grounds suitable for photos. She had to talk to Jacob about romantic dinner menus. She had to...
It’s all on The List, she told herself, taking a deep breath. All she needed to do now was actually achieve everything on The List, and not give in to a massive panic attack.
When her heart had slowed down again, she glanced at The List and read just the top item. Baby steps. One thing at a time. Starting with, apparently, the lobby.
First impressions were important. She needed her guests to be besotted from the moment they walked in. Ruth would see past any problems because she loved the Avalon, but with Aunt Selena first impressions were everything. Graeme was an unknown quantity, but if he and Uncle Patrick liked the inn enough to let Ruth hold her wedding there, Carrie might be able to pay Matt the builder for all the work he’d need to do before it happened.
But all that could only happen if Aunt Selena agreed.
Carrie was under no illusions that either her cousin or her cousin’s fiancé would actually have the final say on where the wedding took place. It was a miracle Ruth’s plan had got this far. Now everything relied on Carrie and the Avalon Inn wowing Selena Archer.
Except the foyer wasn’t the first thing Selena would see, was it? The first thing she’d see was the driveway, with the overgrown shrubs, and the empty flowerbeds outside the front of the inn.
Damn. She needed to talk to Nate.
She found him already outside, kneeling beside the beds under the windows of the front drawing room, a tray of late-blooming bedding plants beside him.
“Thought the place needed brightening up a bit,” he said, smiling up at her as she paused on the steps.
“That’s...great,” she said, looking over at the suddenly neat shrubs along the driveway. He’d been working on them the other day, she remembered, but had stopped to take her to call Matt. When had he had time to finish them?
“Yet you don’t sound thrilled.” Nate dropped another bright pink flower into a hole he’d made in the soil. “Should I have checked with you about the colour scheme?”
“No, no.” Carrie winced as she caught another glimpse of the glaring pink. “They’re very...”
“Bright,” Nate finished. “I know. But they were, well, reasonably priced.”
Carrie blinked. She hadn’t even thought about that. “I’m sorry. Do you have access to the accounts? Or do you need me to...?”
“I’m fine,” Nate assured her. “Nancy used to give me a garden allowance every season. I’ve still got some of the summer’s left.”
Carrie wasn’t sure why she was so certain he was lying, but he was. But since she didn’t have any extra money to give him to pay for tastefully coloured flowers, she wasn’t going to argue.
“They look great,” she told him, sincerely. “I was actually just on my way out to ask you if we could do something with these beds. You taken up mind-reading in your spare time?”
Nate laughed. “No. But I’m afraid you have an inn full of eavesdroppers and gossips.”
“Oh?” It might have got her flowers, but otherwise that wasn’t in any way comforting.
“Jacob overheard your phone call yesterday. I understand we have a date for your bride and groom to visit. And maybe even some overnight guests?” Nate looked up at her again, his eyes a dark, dark grey in the autumn light.
Carrie