had two minutes of staring blankly at the phone before there was a knock at the door, and Nate’s head appeared around it. His expression was blank, so she had no idea if he was still angry with her about Mr Jenkins or not. They hadn’t really spoken since, which suggested he probably was. But on the other hand, he’d come looking for her…
“How did you know where I was?” she asked.
Nate came into the room, and shrugged, still expressionless. “Cyb saw you sneak in here earlier. Look, the builder’s here, when you’re ready. Said you called for some new quotes?”
“Yeah.” Carrie grabbed her clipboard and hopped off the bed. She had bigger things to worry about than whether her gardener liked her. “I’m coming.” She wondered what builder Tom would say when she told him she needed all the work done by Christmas, and she still didn’t have any money to pay him.
As Carrie trailed around the Avalon Inn later that afternoon, always three steps behind the builder she’d called in, she felt her spirits falling by the second. It was all very well trying to save the inn, but really, in the face of Tom Powers of Powers Construction, master of the sucked-in breath and “that’s going to cost you”, how much could one woman do?
Finally, they finished with the inside and headed out to deal with the inn’s exterior.
“This door doesn’t look good, either,” Tom said as they went through the main entrance.
Carrie groaned inwardly. The door was huge, heavy and almost certainly expensive. “The survey didn’t mention it.”
Tom gave her his ‘Listen to me, idiot woman. What do you know about construction, anyway?’ look, which he’d perfected over the course of his visit. “Hardly surprising, with all the other problems. Surveyor was bound to miss a few things.”
Given that she was probably going to owe the man her first-, second- and third-born children by the time he’d fixed her inn, Carrie decided not to argue.
“How’s it going?” Nate appeared again, this time from behind one of the shrubs lining the drive, shears in hand and a couple of leafy twigs in his hair. Carrie wondered how long he’d been hiding in the bushes waiting for them to arrive. And why he’d bothered.
Tom sucked his breath through his teeth again, making Carrie shudder. “Lot of work here.”
Nate stepped closer, still holding the clippers. “Well, we knew as much from the survey.” His voice was perfectly amiable, Carrie thought, but somehow the huge blades in his hands made the words a little more threatening.
“Tom’s found some problems the surveyor missed, too,” Carrie told him.
Nate flashed her a look miles away from the ones Tom had been giving her all morning. This one was more conspiratorial, somehow. The knot that had set up residence in Carrie’s stomach when they’d started the inspection tightened as she tried to figure out what Nate planned to do. Just in case she needed to stop him.
But all Nate did was say, “Really? Can I take a look?” He reached out and snatched the pad Tom had been scribbling on for the last hour from his hands. Tom didn’t even put up an objection, possibly because of the very sharp blades.
Nate cast a cursory glance over the paper and, before Carrie could even ask to see it, he thrust it back at Tom. “Yeah, she’s not going to be using you.”
“What?” Carrie reached out and grabbed the pad from between the two men. “Tom, don’t listen to him, he’s just the...” The numbers of Tom’s estimate sank in, three times Nancy’s initial quote, and she lowered the paper. “Yeah, sorry, Tom. He’s right.”
For a moment, she thought Tom might argue, but he looked at Nate and obviously decided to cut his losses. Without even taking his notepad, he stalked off towards his car, parked at an angle on the other side of the gravelled drive, muttering, “Waste of bloody time.”
Carrie watched him go and wondered how the hell she was going to put together a proper business plan without building quotes.
“Cheer up.” Nate leaned the shears against the side of the steps leading up to the front door, and stood beside her as they watched Tom Powers screech away in his four-by-four.
Carrie turned on him, scowling. Just because he was right didn’t mean she was happy about it. “What the hell did you think you were doing just then?”
“He was ripping you off,” Nate said, taking a cautious step backward.
Carrie glared at him. “How do you know? Are you a building expert now, too?”
“The survey was thorough.” Nate’s voice was calm and sincere, but it wasn’t making Carrie any less furious. “I know the guy who did it. If Tom says he missed anything, Tom is trying to rip you off. Probably in any number of ways. Where did you find him, anyway?”
“Internet,” Carrie said, knowing she sounded defensive.
Nate rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well. Either way, I’ve still got to find someone to do this work. And I need to figure out what’s essential and affordable, and what’s going to have to wait.” And convince investors it was all worth it. All of which meant going back to The List. Carrie was starting to hate The List.
Nate picked up his shears. “Give me a minute to tidy up. I’ve got a friend or two in the building trade. We’ll make some calls.”
Watching him head over to the shrubs to put away his tools, Carrie wanted to scream, I don’t need your help. But unfortunately, it was becoming patently obvious she did.
* * * *
By the end of her first week on the job, Carrie had managed to offend everyone at the Avalon Inn. By Sunday night, her mental apologies list was growing by the hour.
When she awoke on Monday morning, she tucked Nancy’s multicoloured bedspread tighter around her in the attic bed and ran through them again to make sure she’d remembered them all.
1. Apologise to Nate for not realising Mr Jenkins was an idiot. And for shouting at him about the builder thing
2. Apologise to Moira for leaving the stupid soggy sandwiches out on the reception desk again
3. Apologise to Cyb for saying the bunting made the dining room look like the Eurovision song contest
4. Apologise to Izzie for suggesting she didn’t know how to work the reservations system yesterday.
Carrie considered the last item. Izzie really didn’t know how to work the computer program that stored their reservations information. Maybe she’d just teach her, instead.
But apologies and lessons would have to wait. First she had her meeting with Nancy’s lawyer, Mr Norton, and his recommended business advisor.
“Carrie.” Mr Norton held out a hand as she walked into the lobby that morning. “It’s
