I swear,” Jacob said, holding up his hands. “Her mum couldn’t have her, the childminder’s sick, and Gran was already here helping Stan. She’s going to take her home in a little while.”
“None of my business,” Nate said, even though it was, really. Jacob and Georgia were family, and the inn was home. It all mattered to him. “Just... Carrie’s pretty stressed this week. Might not be a good week for her to meet Georgia.”
On cue, Nate’s phone rang, with Carrie’s name flashing across the top. “I’m in the kitchen,” he said as he answered. “About ten metres away. You saw me come in here.”
“I’m on my way into town now,” Carrie answered, and he heard traffic in the background. “Need varnish for the reception desk. I forgot to check if there was anything you wanted for the garden.”
“A greenhouse,” he answered, then laughed to make sure she knew it was a joke. It was hard to tell with Carrie at the moment.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said, and hung up.
Nate turned to Cyb. “Boss is out for the next hour or so, I reckon. If there’s anything you need to do downstairs today, this might be the time.” Leaving him all alone with Jacob’s trial run.
Cyb nodded. “I’ll go and check with—”
A loud crash from the dining room interrupted her, and Nate winced. Jacob abandoned his saucepan, and ran through to find Georgia. Nate flicked off the gas and followed, Cyb right behind him.
The large oak Welsh dresser that ran along the longest wall in the dining room, laden with rows of bright, white china on its narrow shelves, now leaned at an angle, jammed against the door, and its shelf part entirely separated from the cupboard below. Splinters of bright white china lay all around. To one side stood a trembling Georgia, silent tears dripping from huge blue eyes. Izzie knelt beside the girl, arms wrapped around her waist, holding her back from the carnage.
“What the hell happened?” Nate asked as Jacob rushed to his daughter, pushing Izzie to one side.
“She wanted to hide behind the dresser, I think,” Izzie said, her voice soft and shaken. “I was seeking, so I had my eyes closed...”
Nate picked his way through the broken crockery to examine the dresser. It had been made to come apart, at least, presumably to help with moving. Which meant it should be possible to put it back together. Maybe even before Carrie got back. He opened the cupboard doors and stared at the mass of broken plates and bowls inside. “Was this all our china?”
“The good stuff,” Jacob confirmed, looking up from Georgia.
“Right.” Nate shut the doors again. “I think I can fix the dresser, but you two—” he pointed to Cyb and Izzie “—you need to sort the crockery issues. Before the show round.”
Izzie looked terrified. Cyb, on the other hand, straightened her shoulders and said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“Glad to hear it,” Nate said, and went to fetch his tools.
When she woke up on Friday morning, Carrie’s first instinct was to crawl under the blanket and stay there.
She’d spent two weeks in thrall to The List, and in places the inn still looked like a run-down 1970s motel. On the plus side, at least the Seniors had stayed out of her way—she didn’t think she’d seen Stan or Cyb since she’d spoken to Ruth, and even Moira had only popped in to deliver Nate’s lunches, as far as Carrie could tell.
Nate, unfortunately, had been similarly absent. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t busy working. Carrie would leave a note with Izzie in the morning about something she’d thought of for him to do, and when she went to check that evening, it was always done. She just never actually saw him do it. Weirdly, she was starting to miss him and his interfering ways.
Still, for better or for worse, it was show-round day, and there were still some things Carrie could do to get ready for the invasion.
Showered, made-up and dressed in her best grey suit and lilac shirt, Carrie descended the stairs to find Izzie and Jacob poring over something at the reception desk. Her heart clenched. “Everything okay?” Because really, what else could go wrong?
Jacob looked up with a wide smile. “Fine. Just perusing the new menus. They look fab.”
“New menus?” Carrie asked, stepping closer. Yes, she and Jacob had discussed the actual dishes they had planned for the wedding brochure so she could talk to Ruth and Selena about them, but they didn’t have any real menus.
Except the one Izzie held up and waved. Carrie took it from her.
“This looks really great,” she said, aware of the surprise in her voice. The heavy, creamy card had swirling dark green borders, with thick, clear print detailing the dishes in much better words than the ones Jacob and Carrie had come up with. “They’ll go perfectly in the new brochures.” When they got around to printing them. “Where did they come from?”
Izzie shrugged, eyes wide and blank. “They were on the desk when I came in this morning.”
“Is there a packing slip?” Carrie reached over to rifle through the box. Nothing. Not even a label. “Well, someone must have ordered them.”
“It was probably Nate,” Izzie said, after sharing a look with Jacob that, try as she might, Carrie couldn’t quite translate. “You should ask him.”
“I will,” Carrie said, adding a few of the menus to her clipboard. “Once I manage to find him.”
“He’s sorting the flowers in the dining room, I think,” Jacob told her. “And I need to get back to the kitchen.” He disappeared through the double doors to the dining room, and Carrie considered following.
But Ruth and company could arrive at any moment. With a sigh, she pulled out The List again and headed for the drawing room.
And promptly paused in the doorway. In the centre of the room stood the low coffee table from the other sitting room, surrounded by five of the more upright chairs and a tray with coffee cups and saucers, sugar and spoons. A note propped against one of the cups told her that Jacob would keep the coffee machine running all morning and bring out a fresh pot, with cream, when her guests arrived.
God bless Jacob, she thought, and crossed set up meeting area off her list, wondering how he’d known it was one of the many things she just hadn’t been able to get around to before she’d fallen into bed in the early hours of the morning.
There were fresh flowers on the window sills, too, she realised, presumably courtesy of Nate and Moira. Poor Nate would have no flowers left in his garden by the end of the visit.
Carrie consulted The List again, ignoring the items she could do nothing about—Fix terrace! New windows, etc.—and focusing instead on the things that might be achievable before everyone arrived.
She’d have liked time to make the bridal suite more impressive, but had settled for sorting out the main reception and ceremony areas. There was nothing to be done for the carpet in the dining
