The Love Trilogy: Room For Love / An A To Z Of Love / Summer Of Love

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 had in mind.

Chapter 18 (#ulink_d5bfe1f9-cd70-59da-978d-f8ce961ac18a)

They finished their tour in the gardens. Graeme seemed interested in the plans for the vegetable garden, at least, but Ruth and Selena both looked utterly unconvinced by Nate’s cutting garden.

“And you’d do the flowers. Here.” Selena frowned. “Really. How...interesting.”

Carrie could see the thought of her Ecuadorian Cool Water lavender roses on Ruth’s face, even though her cousin kept bravely quiet. Carrie decided to put her out of her misery. “Of course, I know Ruth has some specific desires for her flowers, so it might be best to stick with an official florist for them. With the wedding being in December, we’ll have a limited selection of blooms anyway, but we can certainly provide some nice seasonal arrangements for the bedrooms and bar.”

“Sounds good to me,” Uncle Patrick said, obviously keen to move on. “Now, is that it?”

Carrie smiled. “Just one more thing.” Leading them down the path towards the field at the back of the inn, she said, “Remember I told you we had an idea for if you needed a larger reception space?”

“The thirty extra guests,” Graeme said, and Carrie knew from his tone he had no idea who any of the people his future in-laws wanted to invite were, or why they would want to see him make his wedding vows.

“Exactly.” Carrie paused before they turned the corner of the inn. “Obviously, if your numbers remain as they are, you’re more than welcome to use the main dining room. I know how taken you were with the set-up in there.” Ruth smiled, and Carrie went on, “But just in case, we wanted to give you another option.”

With that, she waved a hand around the corner, and the string quartet started up with Pachelbel’s Canon. It was a cliché, Carrie knew, but she suspected cliché would appeal to Patrick and Selena. “After you,” she said, stepping back to let them through.

It looked better than Carrie had imagined it could. The marquee, hired for the day, shone bright white, even in the weak late afternoon sunlight. It had been a risk, laying out that much cash just to impress them, but Stan had got her a deal from one of his apparently numerous nephews, and it was worth it just to see the stunned look on her guests’ faces. And they hadn’t even seen inside yet.

“There are heaters, of course. December will be very chilly,” Carrie said, keeping her tone professional. No reason to let them know this sort of thing was in any way out of the ordinary at the Avalon Inn. “Why don’t you take a look inside?”

At the entrance to the marquee, Cyb had strung ribbons around the potted bay trees from her garden, and Nate had run left-over fairy lights around the doorway, then through the trees either side. With dusk just starting to fall, they twinkled like sequins on a vintage dress—a touch of sparkle, but not enough to distract from the surroundings.

Inside, Jacob had set up a long serving table with heated trays and chilled wine. Apparently whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen had reached perfection, as he was still smiling.

“If you’d like to take a seat,” he said, motioning to the single round table in the middle of the marquee, laid with the same lace tablecloths and vintage china as the dining room, and surrounded by high-level heaters. “Your waiter will be with you now.”

Nate stepped forward, decked out in a tux he’d found from somewhere or other, and poured the first glasses of champagne. And when Patrick looked over and said, “Carrie, why don’t you join us?” she knew it was all going to be a success.

With a sigh of relief, Carrie sank into the optimistically laid extra place, let Nate pour her a glass of champagne and pretended she didn’t feel his hand give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed.

* * * *

They retired to the bar after the meal, where Izzie served them cheerfully and put up with Uncle Patrick’s smiles and looks without comment. Carrie left poor Graeme being interrogated by Selena about exactly how much he made in his professional life and dragged Ruth off to view the terrace again, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard.

The air on the terrace smelled sharp and clear, and Ruth leaned against the possibly rotting wood and breathed in deeply, while Carrie hung back in the pool of light from the dining room, watching her.

“So?” she asked, withholding her cousin’s glass of wine until she answered.

“It’s wonderful, Carrie,” Ruth said, turning to smile at her, and Carrie handed her the alcohol with some relief. Ruth couldn’t lie convincingly to save her life. She liked it, Carrie was sure.

“Okay. Good.” Carrie moved to stand beside her and stared out at the Avalon grounds. If she squinted, she could almost see Nate’s summerhouse. “It’s everything you wanted?”

Ruth nodded, and said, “Absolutely. Especially now I know for sure that Graeme really wants to marry me.”

Carrie let out a long, slow breath. “Yeah, that was starting to worry me a little bit, too. But I think he made his intentions pretty clear today.”

“Yeah,” Ruth said, staring dreamily out into the dark.

“And what were you two whispering about at dinner, anyway?”

“The honeymoon.” Ruth’s smile turned naughty. “He’s got it all planned out, Carrie, and it’s going to be perfect. It’s like you said. He can’t wait to be married to me. He’s just not got much patience for the wedding itself.”