Room for Love

by Sophie Pembroke

  Across each of the curtain rails, white fairy lights had been hung in a way Carrie feared might be a fire hazard. But they looked spectacular, so she decided she didn’t care.

  “Oh my God, Carrie, I love this room!” Ruth cried, spotting Carrie in the doorway.

  “It certainly is an improvement,” Anna said, running a finger along the rim of a teacup.

  Selena was more practical. “How many does it seat?”

  “Ten tables of ten,” Carrie answered promptly. “Plus the top table. So, around 110.”

  “We can cut the guest list, can’t we Mum?” Ruth said. “I never really wanted to invite the Andersons, anyway.”

  “The carpet and curtains will be changed, of course,” Selena went on, ignoring her daughter.

  “Of course. And the booking can include sole use of the property, including the bars and drawing rooms, so there’ll be plenty of space for your guests to spread out.” Carrie didn’t mention the additional cost for securing sole use, or the fact it was highly unlikely anyone else would want to be there anyway. Except the Seniors, of course.

  “We’d need to book out all the bedrooms.” Carrie tried not to get too excited, but it sounded as if Selena was actually considering it. “And we’d need more accommodation besides.”

  “There are a number of lovely hotels and inns in the area,” Carrie said, hoping they wouldn’t decide to go and look at them until after they’d paid a deposit on the Avalon. “I’d be happy to give you names and addresses, or contact them on your behalf.”

  Selena nodded. “Fine. There is, I assume, somewhere to actually hold the ceremony? And take photographs?”

  “Absolutely. If you’d just like to come this way.” Carrie motioned them back through the double doors to the lobby, wondering what she’d find when they reached the Willow Room, earmarked for the ceremony.

  It was only because she glanced over her shoulder, wanting one last glimpse of the china, that she saw Cyb, Moira and Stan peeking out from behind one of the stage curtains.

  * * * *

  “I think it went well,” Nate said, doling out drinks from a tray in the Red Lion later. “The bed, in particular, was a big hit.” He raised his pint glass to Cyb and sat down.

  “My sister always said very good things about that bed,” Cyb mused, a faraway look in her eye.

  Nate decided he didn’t want to investigate that one any further. “How did things go in the dining room?”

  “Carrie looked pleased.” Moira sipped at her gin and tonic. “And that Ruth girl was over the moon.” Apparently Gran was coming around on the subject of Ruth, which was just as well. “Even the boss woman looked pleasantly surprised.”

  “Mother looked less impressed, mind,” Stan added. Stan, Nate thought, wasn’t wholly on board with their plan. “Not sure she’ll go for it.”

  “Oh, but once she sees what Nate’s done with the terrace, she’ll be won over, I’m certain.” Cyb gave him a wide smile, and Nate wished he had her faith. The terrace looked nice, yes, but it wasn’t that impressive. Just a few purple and pink flowers and the advantage of views out across Snowdonia. The mountains were going to need to do a lot more work than he had, to be honest.

  “Did we manage to do anything with the Willow room?” he asked. It was the one space giving him real concern. It wasn’t much of a room; Nancy had mostly used it for storage, or for hanging coats on nights of big events. But Carrie had needed somewhere to hold wedding ceremonies inside, in case it rained, so she had laid out rows of chairs and asked Nate to bung some flowers up the top.

  “Not much,” Stan admitted. “I put the bay trees with the ribbons you wanted at the top end, and Cyb tied a few ribbons on some chairs, but we were running out of time, to be honest.”

  Nate nodded. “Much simpler when Nancy held weddings.” Nancy had got the wedding license for the inn for a local couple who wanted to get married down by the pond. The rules stated that most of the ceremony had to take place under cover, though, so they’d put up the stone pagoda, which had since only been used for storing garden junk. Nate was not looking forward to clearing that out.

  Until then, he was just lucky the license covered the inside of the inn, too.

  “Except when it rained,” Moira pointed out. “Then we just got wet.”

  Nancy hadn’t had a ceremony room, of course. It was the pagoda or nothing.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what they made of it.” Nate gave a resigned sigh.

  Cyb bit her bottom lip. “You don’t think she’ll be cross, do you?”

  “Cross?” Stan barked a laugh. “Whatever for? We helped her, didn’t we?”

  “Ye-es,” Moira said, drawing it out. “But some people don’t always appreciate that sort of thing.”

  “Well, I do,” Carrie said from the doorway. “So, thanks.” There was silence, until Carrie added, looking uncertain, “Um, Izzie told me where you were. I hope that’s okay...”

  The Seniors stared up at her, looking not unlike small children caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. Nate realized he was doing the same and got to his feet.

  “They liked it?” He motioned Carrie toward an empty chair.

  “Ruth did. I think Aunt Selena still needs some convincing. She wants to put off making a firm booking until Graeme and Uncle Patrick have seen it.” She reached for Nate’s pint, took a sip, then pulled a face and pushed it back. “Gin and tonic?” she asked, looking up at Nate.

  He nodded, and smiled at the barmaid clearing the next table, saying, “Could you?” He didn’t want to miss any of this.

  “But is your boss going to put up the money?” Stan asked. Nate was surprised to see him so interested, but on the other hand, he’d done a lot of lugging of furniture over the past few days. He probably just wanted to be sure he hadn’t been wasting his time.

  Carrie took her gin and tonic from the barmaid with a grateful smile. “Some. She’ll cover some of the immediate, expensive and urgent stuff, the rest will have to come out of the deposit check if we get it. Ruth’s father and her fiance are going to come visit at the beginning of November, and stay overnight. Then they’ll either give me a deposit check to get the place in shape for Christmas, or they’ll walk away and...”

  “We’ll find another way to get the money,” Nate finished for her, but she didn’t look convinced.

  “Something like that.” She took another gulp of her drink.

  There was a pause around the table, as everyone considered the stakes. Even though Nate knew they’d all fight to keep the Avalon open and theirs, there was always the chance Carrie’s boss wouldn’t stump up enough to fix it, especially if Ruth’s fiance didn’t like the place. Carrie might even have to sell it to pay Anna back. And selling it would break not just her heart, but everyone else’s, too.

  “Well, I suppose we’ve got a lot more work to do, then,” Cyb said, finally.

  Carrie looked up and smiled at her. “Yes,” she said, her voice warm. “We have. And I’d really appreciate all your help.”

  She looked at Nate as she finished speaking, and he caught the pleading in her eyes, if not her voice. She hated asking for this, he knew. But she really did need it.

  “Then you’ll have it,” he promised, placing his hand over hers. “And anything else you need.”

  Stan cleared his throat. “As long as we get to keep our dance nights and Bridge games, that is.”

  “Of course,” Carrie said, and she even managed a convincing smile.

  * * * *

  It was surreal, seeing Ruth curled up in one of the bar’s tatty leather wingback chairs, Pusscat on her knee, sipping on Nancy’s best whiskey and laughing at something Nate had said. Like two worlds colliding. Carrie supposed she’d better get used to it.

  Selena had departed late that afternoon followed swiftly by Anna, leaving the whole inn sighing in relief in the wake of their exhausts.

  “You promised me wine,” Ruth had said, and Carrie had led her throu
gh to the bar, where Nate had furnished them with drinks, then disappeared to let them catch up. Jacob had shown up an hour or so later, first with nibbles, then with the full three-course romantic dinner planned for Ruth and Graeme, which Ruth had been in raptures over.

  “I may never leave,” she’d said around a mouthful of garlic potatoes.

  Certainly, Carrie thought, watching her cousin, she seemed at home. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that the Avalon had been as much Ruth’s as her own, once. She’d wondered if Ruth resented Nancy leaving it to her, but when she’d plucked up the courage to ask, Ruth had just tutted and said, “Silly. What would I do with an inn?”

  Carrie glanced down at her watch. Gone midnight. Izzie and Jacob, both done for the day but showing no signs of leaving, flirted at the bar over some very unappealing-looking shots. Carrie vaguely remembered Jacob mentioning his ex was having Georgia for a sleepover, so he was obviously making the most of his night off. Nate, on the other hand, had merely stopped by to let them know he was turning in, and had been promptly collared by Ruth and forced to stay and drink whiskey with them.

  “So,” Ruth asked, raising her glass. “I think the occasion deserves a toast.”

  “To what?” Carrie asked, but raised her glass anyway.

  “To you rescuing the Avalon, and to me getting my Cool Water Roses.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes, but Nate said, “To the Avalon,” and Izzie and Jacob echoed it from the bar, so she joined in.

  “It’s a shame Graeme couldn’t be here tonight,” Carrie said, as Ruth poured them all more whiskey. “I’m sure he wanted to be.”

  Ruth snorted, and Nate looked at her in surprise. Carrie knew the feeling. Ruth was so blond and petite and delicate that it was hard to imagine her being anything other than perfectly elegant. “He just wants this thing to happen, with minimal inconvenience to himself and his job.”

  Carrie blinked. “Well, a wedding is only one day in a marriage, I suppose.” She took a large gulp of her whiskey and didn’t look at Nate. They really needed Graeme to want to get married at the Avalon.

  “Exactly,” Ruth said, and topped up her glass. “Which is what I kept telling my mother all the way up here.”

  “Fun journey,” Nate said. “Did she agree with you?”

  Ruth put on her best Selena voice. “‘If a man can’t show interest in his own wedding day, what’s to say he’ll show any interest in his wife, once it’s over?’” She sighed. “He’s a very busy man, is all. I know he wants to marry me.” Ruth looked between them, then glanced over at the bar. “I think your staff just found the tequila,” she said, dislodging Pusscat and getting to her feet. “And you know how I love tequila.”

  Carrie did know. And she was afraid the next day was going to be a complete write-off.

  “Come on,” Ruth added, holding a hand out to Carrie.

  “I’ll be there in a second,” Carrie promised, and watched Ruth weave her way to the bar.

  “What do you think?” Nate asked, snagging Ruth’s half-full whiskey glass. “Will he go through with it?”

  “I’ve never met the man,” Carrie said, looking up at him. “She’s only been with him a few months.”

  “What happens if he gets cold feet?” Nate’s voice was soft but serious.

  Carrie didn’t answer. Instead, she got to her feet, smoothed down her skirt and said, “I’d better go protect the rest of the spirits from Ruth and her new friends,” and headed over to the bar.

  Glancing back, Carrie could see Nate staring after her, his gray eyes contemplative. But she refused to think the worst just yet. For now she was going to believe in Graeme the devoted fiance, who would love the Avalon. If he ever got there.

  Ruth handed her a shot glass, and the night became a little fuzzy around the edges.

  * * * *

  Wednesday night meant Bridge night at the Avalon Inn. Carrie had managed to avoid them since she’d arrived but, in the spirit of their new collaborative effort to save the inn, she figured she should at least show her face. Especially since it seemed they’d be going on for some time to come. So, on the last Wednesday in October, Carrie shut down her laptop early and headed downstairs to find the action.

  The Seniors had set up camp in the bar, shifting tables into position and moving chairs at will. Carrie, perched on a barstool with a well-earned glass of wine, watched in amazement. Bridge didn’t appear to need all the props and decorations Dance Night required, but the bar still looked utterly different.

  Under the window, three rectangular tables were laid out in a line, covered in dark red cloths Carrie hadn’t realized they owned. As each player entered the room, they put a plate of some sort of eatables on the table. By the time they were all in, there was a pretty impressive banquet of quiche, sandwiches and salads lined up.

  Jacob had set up huge urns of tea and coffee at one end, along with cups and saucers, but most of the players were ordering from the bar. Nate, apparently, had been shanghaied into being barman for the night, and was mixing pink gins and Campari and sodas with the sort of ease that suggested this was a regular occurrence.

  “Do we actually have bar staff?” Carrie asked during a lull in the ordering.

  “Not exactly.” Nate wiped off a glass with a bar towel and replaced it on its shelf. “There’s not usually a lot of demand on the bar. The Seniors help themselves and keep a tally by the till. And on Sundays we have Henry the part-time barman, who comes in to deal with the walkers and such passing through.”

  “And then there are nights like tonight.” Carrie watched as he cleaned another glass with quick, efficient movements. “How did you get roped in?”

  Nate shrugged. “We usually hire in extra staff for events–most often Henry, to be honest–but for things like this, it’s just easier for me to do it.” And cheaper, Carrie thought. “Besides,” Nate went on, with a smile, “I’m here anyway, and this way I don’t have to play Bridge.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Moira said, waving an empty glass at him. “Ted and Noreen can’t make it, so we’re down a pair. You play, don’t you, Carrie?” Nate refilled his grandmother’s gin and tonic, and she took it back saying, “Bless you. Grandsons are wonderful things.”

  “Not really...” Carrie tried, but Nate interrupted, saying, “If I have to play, you have to play.”

  Carrie sighed. “I could try, I suppose.”

  “Excellent. Then I suggest you charge your glasses before we start!” Moira bounded over to her table, where she sat with three other women Carrie didn’t recognize.

  “There are a lot of people here,” Carrie said, as Nate filled up her wine glass. “I didn’t think it would be so popular.”

  Nate handed her the wine bottle. “Better take this, too. You might need it.” He slid out from behind the bar, pint in hand. “I guess there aren’t many opportunities for this sort of thing anymore. It’s always been a big draw.”

  “It’s nice.” Carrie watched the tables start to deal hands, some with more bickering than others. “I’m starting to see why Nancy wanted to make sure this carried on.”

  “Good,” Nate said. “Now, we’d better get to our table before someone comes hunting for us.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the maze of tables to one by the fire, where Cyb and Stan sat.

  “Oh good!” Cyb looked up with a big smile. “I was wondering what we’d do without Ted and Noreen. Noreen’s had a bit of a turn today, it seems, and Ted didn’t want her out and about tonight.”

  “I just hope you two are better players,” Stan grumbled. “Always fighting over their system, those two are. As if either of them can remember if a raised eyebrow means a face card. Can’t remember what day it is most of the time.”

  “Don’t be unkind,” Cyb said mildly. “They’re lovely people. And you like Noreen’s open turkey pie, don’t you try to deny it.”

  “I didn’t say the woman couldn’t cook,” Stan pointed out. “Now, can I at least assume you two
know how to play?”

  “It has been a while,” Carrie admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll pick it up again.”

  Stan didn’t look so sure. “You’d better partner Nate then. Cyb’s not much of a player, but at least I already know her weaknesses. You’d be an unknown quantity.”

  “We can always swap later,” Nate said, but the look on Stan’s face suggested this wasn’t very likely.

  By the time they’d played the first hand, Carrie was already wishing she’d paid more attention when Nancy had tried to teach her to play. Or that she at least remembered more about the game than that the dummy hand system allowed a murder to be committed in an Agatha Christie novel.

  “Two hearts.” Nate declared his bid, watching her carefully over the table. He, at least, seemed to know what he was doing.

  Carrie gave him a helpless smile in return, and he rolled his eyes as the bidding continued. She managed a, “Um, one spade,” when her turn came up, but she really wasn’t all that sure.

  “It doesn’t seem very fair that you two are stuck with me all night,” she said, after another confusing hand. “I mean, I barely know what I’m doing.”

  Cyb patted her hand. “You’re doing very well dear.”

  “Maybe I can see if Moira would let us all swap around a bit,” Stan said, and wandered off toward Moira’s table.

  Nate poured Carrie some more wine from her bottle and said, “Clearly, we are going to have to practice before next week.”

  The idea of having to play a game of cards she barely understood with a group of senior citizens week on week on week should have been terrifying. Two weeks ago, she would have run screaming from the idea.