The Inn at Netherfield Green

by Aurora Rey

  “Um, thank you.” Cam regarded her with what she could only describe as suspicion.

  “But I understand you’re looking to grow? Perhaps embark on a marketing campaign?”

  Cam looked uncomfortable, although it was impossible to know if she disliked talking about her business or, as Lauren had started to fear, disliked her. “I would like to expand.”

  Lauren squared her shoulders, sliding into pitch mode. “So, I have a proposition for you. You help me spruce things up around here and I’ll help you take Carriage House to the next level.”

  Cam narrowed her eyes and looked at Charlotte. “Is this your idea?”

  Lauren looked at Charlotte as well, wondering how she’d answer, but before she could, Jane chimed in. “She suggested it, but I couldn’t agree more. It’s perfect.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such ready allies. Well, except for Anja, but they’d been friends for ages. It gave Lauren a warm, tingly feeling. Not something she had a lot of in New York. She pressed on. “I’m a professional, you know. I do marketing for a living.”

  Cam’s gaze returned to hers. Was that disdain in her eyes? “I’ll think about it.”

  Lauren resisted the urge to go for the hard sell. As often as it served her well in closing a deal, she had a feeling it would backfire with Cam. No, if Cam was going to work with her, she was going to have to come to it on her own. Well, perhaps with some nudging from Charlotte and Jane. “Of course. I can share my portfolio with you if you’d like.”

  “Portfolio?”

  Lauren flashed her most confident smile. “Of my work. I’ve managed dozens of campaigns, mostly in the boutique hospitality industry, including brand management, print advertising, and digital collateral.”

  Cam didn’t answer right away, making Lauren think perhaps she’d overplayed her hand. Eventually, Cam nodded. “Sure.”

  Point in her favor. Time to exit while she was ahead. “I’ll email you. I’ll also leave you and Jane to enjoy your lunch.”

  “You could join us.” Jane looked at her with a smile. “We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Cam?”

  She didn’t need to look at Cam to know Cam most certainly wouldn’t love it. Which was okay. Annoying, seeing as she’d done nothing to provoke it, but okay. She could play this hand as well as the next. “No, no. You two enjoy. I’ve got work to do.”

  “You really are welcome,” Cam said.

  Whether it was guilt or curiosity, she didn’t know. She’d take either at this point. “Thank you, but I’m good. I’ve got to make sense of the books before I can think about makeovers.”

  “Of course. Maybe next time.” Jane didn’t seem fazed by the interaction.

  “Absolutely. Cam, Jane, I hope to see you again soon. Charlotte, I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

  And with that, she made her exit. She really did need to sort through the books, figure out where money was coming and going. She’d already resigned herself to having to dip into her personal savings to do most of the work. She needed to make sure the Rose & Crown could sustain itself in the meantime. Because nothing would put a damper on a splashy rebrand more than bill collectors showing up to repossess the place.

  * * *

  After lunch, Jane headed back to her office and Cam lingered. She had plenty to do, but she wanted to talk to Charlotte without Jane running interference. She took an empty stool at the bar and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve thrown your lot in with her.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I made a deal with the devil.”

  “No, more like trying to get her into bed.” She’d not given the idea any thought, but the possibility took root. “Oh, my God. Are you trying to get her into bed?”

  Charlotte folded her arms and gave her a bland look. “Just because I’m poly, it doesn’t mean I’m trying to get everyone into bed.”

  Cam raised a brow.

  “I’m discerning. And ethical.”

  “We both know she’s gorgeous.”

  Charlotte got a dreamy look in her eyes and sighed. “Yeah.”

  “See.” Cam pointed at her. “You’re proving my point.”

  The dreamy look vanished, and Charlotte was once again all business. “But also my boss, so off limits. I like her, Cam. She has good ideas and she asks my opinion, and I think she’s going to make the Rose & Crown something special.”

  “It already is something special.”

  “It’s barely staying afloat and you know it.”

  Cam frowned. “What happened to you wanting to buy it? The more she pours into it, the less likely she is to sell. Why would you help her with that?”

  “Because maybe I’m realizing that buying a failing business isn’t the smartest life goal.”

  Even if the statement held a kernel of truth, Cam didn’t want to acknowledge it. “So, you’re just going to give up? Work for her and take what you get?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “It seems to me anytime I tell you something is a terrible idea, you try to convince me it’s complicated.”

  Charlotte pointed at her aggressively. “Because I’m right. You’re so bloody black-and-white about everything. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  It wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. Not about Lauren, of course, but about life and the seemingly infinite shades of gray Charlotte used to analyze and categorize things. Cam didn’t like to think of herself as rigid, but she did prefer a simpler view of people and relationships and the world. She remained convinced that was the primary reason she and Charlotte didn’t work out romantically. It made her sad, not because she still harbored feelings for Charlotte, but because it felt like such a gulf between them sometimes, even as friends.

  Charlotte pulled her hand back and sighed. “Don’t stew.”

  “I’m not stewing.”

  Charlotte gave her a look that said she knew otherwise. “You are. I’m not sure why you’re so hell-bent on disliking her.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it? Talk to me.” Any trace of anger had vanished, as though she sensed there was more to the situation than Cam let on.

  In that moment, Cam remembered all the reasons she and Charlotte were best mates. Because even if they didn’t see eye to eye on everything, Charlotte got her. Even more importantly, Charlotte cared about her enough to poke though her cool exterior to get at what really mattered. “I just have this feeling that everything is about to change. And I don’t like it.”

  Charlotte reached over the bar and squeezed her hand. “Not all change is bad, you know.”

  “I know that. I’m not a dinosaur.”

  “Are you afraid that Carriage House is going to become more famous that Barrister’s?”

  “What? Where did that come from?” Cam tried to ignore the tightening in her stomach. “And what does it have to do with what Lauren is doing to the Crown?”

  Charlotte studied her fingernails and didn’t answer for an interminable length of time. “You’re one of the smartest and most hardworking people I know.”

  Cam pointed. “Don’t try to distract me with compliments.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “I’m not. There’s a but.”

  “Oh, sure. Stroke my ego and then take it back.”

  “You’re smart, but you’re set in your ways. You have this amazing ambition, but you temper it, citing tradition or caution or some other bullshit.”

  Cam swallowed. They’d danced around this conversation in the past, but always managed to diffuse it before it went too far. “You’re calling me a coward.”

  “I’m not and I refuse to let you shut me down by putting that word in my mouth. I think you’re comfortable. There’s nothing wrong with that. For some people, it’s perfectly fine.”

  “But you don’t think I’m one of those people.”

  “No.” Charlotte looked her right in the eyes. “I think you’re so much more than that.”
<
br />   Now that it was out there, like a bandage starting to fray at the edges, she couldn’t leave it alone. “So, not only do I need to change, you think whatever Lauren cooks up is the change I need.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It feels risky.” It felt a hell of a lot more than risky, but she didn’t want to come across as dramatic on top of being stubborn and resistant to change.

  “Yeah, but really, what do we have to lose?”

  Cam didn’t answer that question, not because she didn’t have answers, but because she didn’t like the ones her brain churned out with alarming speed. Images of some cartoon of a pub that served Marks & Spencer pies and chicken nuggets. “You have a point. She’s going to do whatever she wants anyway. Being involved is probably our best chance to prevent the Rose from turning into some whitewashed Disney version of itself.”

  Charlotte smiled. Cam got the impression she’d already conceded the point Charlotte was poised to make. “And what about Carriage House? Will you accept her offer to help with the marketing?”

  Cam shrugged. It might be a disaster, some feeble attempt to make her gin trendy. But it would be free, and probably demand less of her time than working with some actual marketing company. “I don’t see where there’s any harm. I don’t have to use her ideas if I think they’re terrible.”

  Charlotte leaned forward on the bar. “Do you really think they will be?”

  The thing with terrible ideas was that some people invariably thought they were great. She wasn’t willing to go for the lowest common denominator to boost her sales. And if that’s what Lauren had in mind, they’d run out of things to talk about pretty quick. “We’ll see.”

  “You know, your flexibility and open-mindedness are two of my favorite things about you.”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Cam tucked her tongue in her cheek.

  The door to the pub opened and a couple walked it. Charlotte’s gaze flashed over to them, then back to Cam. “I love you, you know.”

  Cam took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “I know. I love you, too.”

  “I’ll see you soon?”

  From the looks of it, she’d just roped herself into spending quite a bit more time at the pub than usual. “I’m sure you will.”

  Charlotte moved down the bar to greet the new customers. Cam stood and looked at her watch. She’d taken a much longer lunch hour than she’d intended. Not that anyone was clocking her time, but she didn’t want to abuse her position, or set a bad example. She offered Charlotte a parting wave and headed back to work.

  On the walk back to the distillery, she turned over the conversation with Charlotte in her mind, as well as the one with Lauren, Jane, and Charlotte. In both cases, she’d come across as the curmudgeon. She’d never had a reputation of being carefree, but she wasn’t crazy about this dour turn.

  Despite her reservations, she’d meant what she said to Charlotte. Having her hand in whatever Lauren did to the pub made perfect sense. It was her best chance to influence the final outcome. The prospect of getting some free consultation on taking Carriage House to the next level made it a no-brainer. So, why did she still have this deep-seated reluctance in the pit of her stomach?

  Even as she posed the question to herself, she knew the answer. She bristled against what Lauren represented, but it was Lauren herself that felt dangerous. Or perhaps more accurately, her reaction to Lauren. Yes, it felt like the Rose sat on the cusp of some sea change. But it felt like she might be thrown into that churn as well. And she had neither the time nor the inclination to go down that path.

  When she got to the distillery, Cam started toward her office. She should sit at her desk and work through some invoices and contracts. But just the idea made her twitchy. Instead, she headed to the still room, bypassing the main area and heading to the smaller space she liked to think of as her lab. She had her sights on creating a small, limited run batch of gin blended specifically for the holidays. And even though that remained months away, now was the time to refine the recipe and all the details that went along with it. The process required intense concentration and brought immense satisfaction. Given how her day had gone so far, she could use some of both.

  Chapter Seven

  Lauren picked up a tube of lipstick just as her phone rang. She looked at the screen, fully expecting to let it go to voice mail. Anja’s name and number flashed at her. She might not be ready to face most of the people in her life, but she’d put off Anja long enough. “Hi.”

  “Oh, my goddess, she lives.”

  If it was anyone but Anja, she’d have found the hyperbole irritating. But it was Anja, so she snickered. “Breathing, even.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve been worrying about you. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Anja’s tone was impatient, and Lauren could imagine her pacing around as she spoke.

  “Do you want the short version or the holy hell, crazy drama filled version?”

  “Uh, I want to know everything. You’ve been avoiding me for like two weeks.”

  Lauren took a deep breath, trying to decide what to lead with. “An uncle I hardly knew died and left me his pub-slash-inn so I came to England to deal with it.”

  “That’s what you’re doing in England? When you said ‘some family business,’ you made it sound like no big deal. I figured you were home already and buried in work.”

  Work. Ha.

  “I can’t believe you’re in England and you didn’t even invite me.”

  Anja, a professional photographer, had accompanied Lauren on more than a few of her trips, sometimes for work and sometimes just for fun. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, a good three hours outside of London.”

  “I love the middle of nowhere. You know this.”

  She did. And under normal circumstances, she’d not have thought twice about inviting Anja to join her. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Still, Anja was her best friend and hiding from her had been dumb. “I do know. I’m sorry. I threw everything together pretty quickly.”

  “I’m not really mad. I just miss you. I want to hear everything. And work. What are you doing about work?”

  “I got fired.” She closed her eyes, bracing herself for questions and righteous indignation and an ungodly amount of swearing.

  “I don’t understand,” Anja said with almost eerie calm.

  Since arriving in England, she’d pushed all thoughts of KesslerAldridge to the back of her mind. She’d mostly succeeded, too. More so than she’d expected. The reality of the situation, the injustice of it and her empty rage, flooded her mind. “I was accused of filing bogus expense reports and trying to sleep with Philip to cover it up.”

  “What?” Anja’s voice pitched high, and in that one syllable, yelled over a thousand miles away, Lauren felt a trace of vindication.

  She’d told Anja about Philip coming on to her, groping her and having to fight him off. Anja was the only person she had told. And despite Anja’s rage, she’d supported Lauren’s decision not to press charges, or even take it to HR.

  Lauren filled in the more recent details—the paper trail someone had painstakingly created to make her look guilty, the look of regret on Eric’s face, being escorted from the building by security. “Of course I know Philip is behind the whole thing, but I’m not sure how I’d be able to prove it.”

  “So you just left? You’re going to let that motherfucker win?”

  She knew Anja didn’t mean it to come out as an accusation, but it felt that way. Lauren’s stomach clenched, and some of her original fury boiled up, clearly suppressed more than subsided. “It literally happened the same day I met with the lawyer about my uncle’s will. I decided to come here to regroup.” She squared her shoulders even though Anja couldn’t see and added, “And plot.”

  There was a long silence, and Lauren had a flash of panic that maybe she’d gone about this all wrong. That what had seemed so logical in her mind was in fact the worst possible way of handling her situa
tion. That, in not fighting back immediately, she’d lost her chance, and with it, any hope of saving her reputation. There were few people whose opinion she trusted more than Anja’s, professionally and personally. If Anja thought she was making a huge mistake, she’d have to pause and rethink everything.

  “You shouldn’t plot alone.”

  The air rushed out of her lungs all at once. The tension she’d not noticed between her shoulder blades loosened. Lauren flopped onto the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “Again, I’m not mad. But I’m here for you. I want to help.”

  “Thank you.” So much more than her actual family, Anja was someone she could count on, no matter what.

  “Does that mean you’ll let me come out there?”

  “Actually…” Lauren trailed off, letting the idea take shape. “I could use your help.”

  “Please tell me it involves Philip’s untimely demise. Or castration maybe. I could get behind castration.”

  She’d need to deal with what she left behind eventually, but not today. “No. It’s about the inn and the pub.”

  “Go on.”

  Lauren smiled at the intrigued delivery. Anja loved a project almost as much as she did. “I’m going to use the Rose & Crown to launch my own agency.”

  “I love a scheme as much as the next person, but I don’t follow.”

  “What’s been my most successful campaign to date?”

  Anja didn’t miss a beat. “Those posh hotels. Latour.”

  “Exactly. So much so that I decided to make boutique hospitality brands my niche when I strike out on my own.”

  “Right.” Anja drew out the word, like she’d connected the dots but remained unsure of the result.

  “I’m going to turn this place into a Latour property, in spirit if not literally. Then I’m going to sell it. I’ll have the capital and the publicity I need to start my own agency. Revenge, served cold, just the way it should be.”

  Anja sighed. “Not as fun, but ultimately more satisfying. So where do I come in?”

  “I’m starting from scratch here. This place has a website circa 1999 and nothing else. I need stills and video for web, social, everything.”