wanted the inn to reflect her style, but that wasn’t miles away from Ruth’s, anyway.
Patrick was already re-introducing himself to Izzie at the counter, and it appeared, from the rather sour look on Selena’s face, his wife had finally noticed his interest. Time to move on.
“If you’d all like to come with me through to the drawing room...” Carrie said, holding the door open for them so they’d have no option but to go through. As she turned to follow them, she nodded at Izzie in a way she hoped the receptionist would remember meant bring coffee.
They were an odd-looking family, Carrie thought, taking her seat. Selena’s tall, willowy blondeness, tempered in Ruth with Patrick’s shorter stature, meant their daughter was petite, with bright yellow hair and her father’s hazel eyes. Their newest member-to-be, Graeme, sat as close to his fiancée as he could physically manage, with Patrick on his other side. Still nervous around the in-laws, she’d bet. Carrie tucked the realization away in case it proved useful later.
Shuffling her papers, Carrie started into her talk. “Thank you all for coming to the Avalon Inn today. I really hope what we have to show you will convince you that the Avalon is the best place for this very important day.”
“Very expensive day,” Patrick joked, digging an elbow in Graeme’s ribs.
Carrie ploughed on. “Now, obviously Ruth and I have been working on the wedding details—”
“They’ve been planning it since they were six,” Patrick put in. Carrie ignored him.
“So I have a pretty good idea of the sort of set-up you were looking for. As such, we’ve tried to prepare the inn in a manner sympathetic to what you hope for the day. That said, any changes you would like to make, of course, please let us know.” All business, that was the way to go. Forget they were family, focus on the details.
They all nodded, and Carrie allowed herself a very small feeling of relief. Maybe she would make it through the day after all.
“I also understand there may be some additions to the guest list,” Carrie said neutrally.
Selena glared at her husband. “Apparently so.”
Patrick glared back. “Twenty of them are your family! Anyone would think you didn’t want this wedding at our family inn.”
“Anyway,” Carrie broke in, keen to keep things civil, at least, “I just wanted to let you know that we think we may have a solution for that, too. But we’ll come to that at the end of the tour.”
Then, since coffee was clearly not coming, Carrie jotted a note to talk to Izzie about signals later, and led the party into the dining room.
An hour later, things were going better than Carrie had even dared hope. Ruth and Selena still loved the dining room set-up, with its charity-shop china and up-cycled lace tablecloths. Graeme and Uncle Patrick had looked on, bemused, but apparently decided they’d leave this one to the girls.
“Can we get a band?” Graeme asked, staring at the stage.
“Certainly,” Carrie promised, scribbling herself a note to check on the inn’s entertainment licence. She knew Nancy used to have one; she just hoped it was still current. This was the first sign she’d seen that Graeme had any intention of even showing up to the wedding. “What sort of music were you thinking?”
“Has to be big band,” Patrick jumped in. “Only thing worth dancing to.”
“It would go with the china,” Selena added.
Carrie nodded. “I’ll see if I can get you some recommendations.”
The first big bone of contention came in the bridal suite.
“If I’m paying for this whole shindig, I think I should at least get to sleep where I like.” Patrick gave Cyb’s huge wooden four-poster a covetous look. He’d missed it on the last tour, apparently too busy flirting with Izzie. But this time he was taking everything in, almost as if it were all his already.
“And who, exactly, are you planning on sleeping in it with?” Selena asked, ice in her voice.
Graeme sidestepped over to Carrie and murmured in her ear, “I don’t suppose you could find another one of those?”
Carrie shook her head. “Afraid not. It’s one of a kind.” Much like its owner, she added silently, once again wondering how she would ever have got this far without Cyb and the other Seniors, not to mention Nate. So much for standing on her own two feet for a change.
“But, Daddy! It’s my wedding night,” Ruth said, in what Carrie recognized as her best ‘working her father’ voice.
“Right, then,” Graeme said, and took a deep breath before stepping forward. “Patrick, Selena,” he said, his voice louder, firmer and deeper than Carrie had heard all day, “I think it would be helpful at this time if we remembered exactly whose wedding this is—Ruth’s and mine.”
“And I think you should remember who’s paying for it, son.” Uncle Patrick’s face was turning a rather violent shade of red.
Graeme smiled, and for the first time Carrie could see why Ruth found him attractive. Nate had a very similar smile. “If money is all that’s at stake, I’m more than happy to pay for it. I might not be as rich as you, but I’m a professional with a good job. I can take care of your daughter. And I intend to make sure she has the wedding she’s always dreamed of—not whatever party you want to throw to show off.”
Carrie bit her lip to stop from speaking out, praying this was just a bluff. Graeme might have money, but she doubted he could afford to renovate a whole inn just for his wedding.
Ruth moved from her mother’s side to stand next to Graeme. “Besides,” she said, smiling up at her fiancé, “if we don’t have to pay for all your friends to attend, it’ll be a lot cheaper, I’m sure.”
Aunt Selena blinked very quickly, and the colour drained from Uncle Patrick’s face. “Well,” he said, blustering, “I don’t know how we got onto the subject of money, anyway. I was just admiring this bed, was all.”
The tension in the room dropped slightly, and Carrie stepped into what was left of the fray. “What about a compromise?” she suggested, her voice mild. “Your parents could stay here tonight, Ruth, to...try out the bed. Then you can use it for the hen night, the night before the wedding, and the wedding night itself.”
She glanced over at Graeme, who gave a slight nod, and Ruth brightened immediately. Uncle Patrick rolled his eyes. “I suppose so,” he said. But as they started to leave the suite he cornered Carrie and asked, “I don’t suppose you’d consider throwing that bed in as a sort of incentive to invest, would you? After the wedding, of course.”
For a fleeting moment, Carrie considered it. Then she shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. You see, it’s on permanent loan from a supporter of the Avalon Inn, and she’s really very fond of it.”
Patrick glanced into the room for a last look at the bed. “I’d like to meet the woman who owned a bed like that.”
Carrie smiled. “Well, you’re in luck. I think she’s downstairs.” Although she wasn’t sure Cyb was really what her uncle
