we start in on soup bowls, now? I don’t think we’ll have so much to choose from, there.”
She was already moving across the charity shop, clearly on a mission, and Carrie could do nothing but follow her.
Carrie waited until they had four mismatched soup bowls before asking, “What do you think Nancy would have done?”
Cyb shrugged again. “What do I know?” she asked, diving into another basket of crockery.
“You knew my grandmother,” Carrie said. “You knew her well. So, what do you think she would have done?” Cyb might act dumb, Carrie had noticed, but she wasn’t as slow about people as she was about facts. And Nate said most of the help the Seniors had provided so far had been Cyb’s idea.
Cyb paused, soup bowl in hand, and sighed. Finally she turned to look at Carrie. “Nancy’s philosophy was If you don’t like it, tough. The Avalon was an extension of herself. She wanted people to love it because of what it was, not to try to change it to suit other people.”
Carrie put down the small pile of soup bowls before she dropped them. “You’re right,” she said, eventually. Because Nancy had never conformed, never changed a thing about herself to make people happy. It used to drive Carrie’s dad up the wall.
Putting her soup bowl on top of the pile, Cyb reached out and brushed her fingers against the sleeve of Carrie’s coat, an oddly comforting gesture. “But that doesn’t mean you’re doing the wrong thing.”
Carrie looked up, sceptical. Because wasn’t that exactly what Cyb had just said? That she wasn’t doing as Nancy had intended, when she left her the inn.
“Nancy was a force of nature,” Cyb went on. “People came to the inn for her personality more than anything else. But she’s gone on now and, sooner or later, the rest of us will be, too. You need to find out what the Avalon Inn will be without us. What you need it to be.”
With a small nod, Carrie returned her attention to the great china hunt. Apparently Cyb wasn’t nearly as daft as she looked. “Thanks.”
Cyb shrugged. “Now. Since we’ve got all that sorted out, I’ve got something to ask you.”
“Anything,” Carrie said, with a helpless gesture.
“What do you think about Stan?”
“Stan?” Carrie echoed, confused.
“Well, more precisely, Stan and me.”
Carrie blinked. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware there was a, well, a Stan and you.”
Cyb waved a hand vaguely, rather closer to the piles of crockery than Carrie was entirely comfortable with. “Oh, neither is he, yet. I’ll tell him when he’s ready.”
“He doesn’t know you’re…in a relationship?” Carrie didn’t really want to think about how that would even work, but morbid curiosity made her ask.
“Well, we’re not yet, of course. But I’ve decided, I think, that it’s a good idea. We’ve both been alone a long time and neither of us can really have all that much longer left. It’s important to make the most of the time we do have, don’t you think?”
“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.
