“Well, yes,” Carrie said, thinking of Nancy.
“So you agree, then? It’s a good idea?”
“I don’t think it’s really my approval you need, Cyb.”
“Oh, Stan’ll come round, when he’s ready.” Cyb stared off into the middle distance. “I wonder what he’s like in bed.”
And that, Carrie decided, was quite enough of that conversation. “Do we need more soup bowls?”
Cyb ignored her. “In lots of ways, I suppose we’re just like Jacob and Izzie.”
Carrie blinked again. “Jacob and Izzie?”
“Yes. She’s been crazy about him for years, of course, which is rather different. But I rather think he might be coming around to her way of thinking now, if you know what I mean.”
“Really?” Carrie asked, still blinking in what appeared to be becoming an uncontrollable manner. “I hadn’t really noticed. Or, you know, thought about it.” Should she have? Surely part of being a good manager was thinking about her staff.
“Well, you’ve had a lot on your plate,” Cyb said, but her tone made it clear that only a blind man wouldn’t have thought there was something going on. “What about your cousin and her man, then? Stan said you had to change their visit date to suit him. Are they going to be happy together, do you think?”
“Of course they are,” Carrie said, before pausing and considering. She’d been so concerned with making sure Ruth actually got married this time, and at her inn, she’d forgotten to make sure that Ruth getting married was the right thing for Ruth. “I hope so,” she said, and swallowed hard. “I haven’t met him yet. I’ll have a better idea after their visit, probably.”
“I’m sure we all will,” Cyb said. “Now, which do you prefer?” she asked, and Carrie looked over to see the other woman holding up two different styles of soup bowl.
“Um, the bluey-green one,” she answered, still thinking about Ruth’s endless childhood practice weddings and the three broken engagements. How would she ever be sure she was doing the right thing?
* * * *
Nate had tried plotting out all his ideas and plans on paper, but they didn’t look real in two dimensions. And besides, he couldn’t get a proper feel for how something would work without standing right there in the middle of it and imagining. So instead, he’d got out his red garden twine, his seed markers, and some plastic windmills past guests had left behind several summers ago, and started work.
And now it was time for the grand unveiling.
“I don’t understand,” Jacob said, squinting at the empty bed planned out with twine, and with two foil windmills turning lazily in the breeze.
Nate sighed, and turned to his grandmother for better comprehension. Moira shrugged. “Why don’t you walk us through it?” she suggested.
“Okay.” Nate jumped out of the flowerbed and onto the grass between them, and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. “Imagine this.” He motioned to the bed before them. “Roses.” He spun them through ninety degrees and gestured to the next empty bed. “Lilies.” Another turn, another bed. “Chrysanthemums.” They spun again to the last bed. “Greenery.”
Nate glanced between the faces of his companions. They both still looked utterly baffled. Dropping his arms, he sighed. “It’s a cutting garden! Perfect for arrangements for the inn, of course, but also for wedding flowers, bouquets and buttonholes and stuff.”
Now they were starting to look interested. “And who’s going to put together all these bouquets and stuff,” Moira asked, eyebrows raised.
“Well, I’m sure Carrie could learn.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “Like she’ll have time. I’ll do it, of course.” Just as Nate had expected.
“Excellent.” Nate nudged them forward, out of the cutting garden and into the next area. “Jacob, this one’s for you.”
He watched as they gazed around the carefully laid-out markers. On top of the moss-infested grass, rows of red twine were interspersed by seed markers. Jacob knelt down to read one, then looked up in amazement. “A vegetable garden?”
Nate nodded. “You tell me what you need me to grow, and I’ll grow it.”
The faraway look in Jacob’s eyes suggested he was already imagining a seasonal home-grown menu. Nate saw many more vegetarian options on the Avalon Inn specials board in the future.
“This looks great, Nate,” Moira said, but Nate could hear the ‘but’ coming next.
“But?” he prompted her.
“Did Carrie ask you to do this?”
“Not as such,” Nate hedged, unsure how many people knew about Uncle Patrick’s garden-selling plans. “I just think it’s important the gardens earn their way around here.”
Jacob nodded. “Makes sense to me,” he said, but Nate knew he was just thinking about the fresh produce. “Might need to get a greenhouse, too,” he suggested. “Tomatoes and such.”
“Next on the list,” Nate promised him.
“When are you going to show her?” Moira pressed.
Without really thinking, Nate answered, “As soon as she gets back.”
Moira nodded, but she still didn’t look entirely reassured. The sound of tyres on the gravel drive distracted her, though. “That must be them. I’ll go and see.”
Nate watched Moira head back to the inn, thinking that if even his grandmother, who traditionally thought he hung the moon, wasn’t impressed, what hope did he have with Carrie?
Jacob’s voice jerked him out of his rather depressing musings. “What have you got planned for the lawn at the back?”
Nate shrugged. “Nothing, yet. Maybe some sort of display garden? Might be good for photos.”
Jacob shook his head. “I’ve got a much better idea. One Anna bloody Yardley would love. Bring your twine and pegs.”
“Did you empty out every charity shop in North Wales?” Stan asked as he met them at the door on their return to the Avalon, eyeing the boxes of plates, bowls, and glassware.
“Near enough,” Carrie said, passing him a box, while concentrating very hard on forgetting her entire discussion with Cyb.
“China and glass only,” Cyb told him. “And a few more tablecloths.”
Moira came trudging up the path from the gardens. “Good grief. That should keep us going.”
“That’s the hope,” Carrie muttered, and Moira gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Where’s that grandson of yours, Moira?” Stan asked, his booming voice making Carrie jump. Just as well she was holding tablecloths, not wine glasses, at the time.
“He and Jacob are working on something in the garden,” Moira said. Carrie wanted to ask what, but Moira was already moving towards the inn with a hastily grabbed box of glasses. It made Carrie nervous. She knew Nate wasn’t happy about the possibility of selling some of the grounds. She just wasn’t sure how far he’d go to stop it.
“Maybe I should go and see what they’re up to,” Carrie said, edging over to the path down to the gardens.
Stan stopped her with a scathing glance. “You forgotten so soon, girl?