and call me.”
“Sure,” Nate said, eager for the conversation to be over. He could just say no again in a fortnight.
But apparently he wasn’t convincing enough, because Mel said, “I’ll call you, then. Seriously, Nate, think about it. It’s a great opportunity. For both of us.” She hung up, leaving Nate staring at the phone.
It was a great opportunity. But Nate wasn’t sure if it could trump everything the Avalon Inn had already given him. Or what he owed to Nancy.
Nate looked around his garden, trying to imagine which bit of it he could bear to part with and failing. Which section would Carrie want to get rid of? The woods, with their bluebell walks and wildlife, or the fountain, or the rose garden, or the pagoda or...? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t lose any part of it.
Which meant he’d just have to find a way to make every inch of the gardens earn their keep. Then Carrie would see how important they were.
She had to. Or he couldn’t stay.
A phone call from Ruth was a highlight of a normal day but the last thing Carrie wanted to deal with after telling Nate to brace himself for losing half his gardens. Her heart clenched at the number on her mobile-phone screen. Would this call be the one to say the wedding was off? She didn’t want to know. But, she knew she had to answer it. After all, Ruth was family. And even if she weren’t, her wedding might be the only thing that could save, not only the gardens, but the whole inn.
“Hi, Ruthie,” she said, making an effort to sound cheery. “How are things there?”
“Carrie, I’m so sorry. We’ve got a problem.” Ruth wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
Carrie dropped into the chair behind Nancy’s desk. “Tell me.”
“Graeme can’t make the next show round either.” Ruth sounded thoroughly fed up. Carrie really didn’t blame her.
“Then we’ll change the date. When can he do?”
“That’s the problem. The only date he can do between now and the wedding is a week on Thursday.”
Which was cutting it very fine for a Christmas wedding. Carrie saw her carefully plotted schedules collapsing before her. But if that was what it took to make this wedding happen... “Then that’s when we’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? It won’t screw up your plans?”
“It’ll be fine,” Carrie promised, and hoped she wasn’t lying.
Ruth sighed. “Great. He’ll love the Avalon once he sees it, I’m sure. He’ll be excited then. And I’m sure Mum will come round.”
That was even more worrying. “Selena doesn’t want it here?”
“Oh, you know. She’s seen some posh hotel up in the hills. I think some film star got married there in, like, the seventies, so she thinks it will be better.”
“Well, we’ll just have to convince her the Avalon Inn is superior,” Carrie said, with more confidence than she felt.
“Too right. So, a week on Thursday, then?”
“Definitely. And you’ll all stay over, have dinner at the inn?”
“That would be lovely,” Ruth said. “I cannot wait to get the hell out of Cheshire and camp out at your inn for a couple of days.”
Carrie rang off, and added a few more notes to her list. Then she went to find Cyb. If the family were all having dinner, they were going to need more of that ‘darling china’.
Quickly.
* * * *
“So we’re going to be serving my family and our potential financial saviours dinner on charity-shop plates,” Carrie said, her voice flat, as Cyb picked up more floral-patterned side plates and added them to the growing pile on the counter.
“I thought you said they liked them,” Cyb said, a puzzled look creasing her forehead. She held out a green and blue forest scene dinner plate for Carrie to see. “This one’s very pretty.”
“They’re all pretty,” Carrie admitted, adding the plate to the counter. “I just...”
“Well, where else would we have got so much china on short notice?” Cyb asked, her voice perfectly reasonable. “Really, we were lucky Stan was able to make a deal with the hospice shop in Felinfach. That’s where most of it came from.”
Carrie hadn’t really thought very hard about where the china had appeared from. If she’d been pressed, she’d probably have guessed it was all cluttering up the cupboards of the Seniors and their friends. “What sort of a deal?”
“Oh, he traded in his old sideboard for all the cups and saucers the shop had, and a few other bits and bobs, like the vases.” Cyb selected another plate from the shelves, setting aside a few items of stoneware. She’d explained to Carrie earlier that only china would work. ‘It’s an issue of class perception,’ she’d told her, without further elaboration.
“His sideboard?” It seemed an unusual object to barter with.
“It was his aunt’s,” Cyb said, still leafing through china plates. “Not in terribly good condition, but the hospice should be able to sell it for something, so everybody wins.”
“Except Stan, who’s out a sideboard.” Carrie moved over to look at the discard pile, wondering if she could ascertain what made them unsuitable for the Avalon Inn. She couldn’t.
Cyb shrugged. “He was never very fond of his aunt, anyway.”
Which wasn’t really the point Carrie was trying to make, but it did lessen the guilt a little. “Still, it’s very generous. You’ve all been very kind. And helpful.”
Packing the last plate on top of the teetering To Buy pile, Cyb turned to Carrie and smiled. “Well, you’re Nancy’s granddaughter.”
Carrie tried to return the smile, rather than sighing. Part of her wished they were helping her for other reasons—believing in her plans, for example, or even because they liked or trusted her. But perhaps that would follow in time.
“And you think she’d approve of what I’m doing at the inn?” she asked instead, turning to lift the top half of the stack of plates down to the counter for extra stability. It was an offhand question, and, until Cyb paused before answering, Carrie wasn’t really concerned about what she might say. Because of course Nancy would approve. She’d approve of anything that kept the Avalon alive and Carrie happy. They were the things she cared about most.
But apparently Cyb knew different. “Well...” she said, trailing off again, even after her long pause.
“Speak, Cyb,” Carrie said, losing patience.
Cyb shrugged. “It’s just not the way Nancy would have done it, that’s
