LITMIR.BIZ

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I’m going to need some more plants.” He patted down the earth around the last pink flower and got to his feet, looming tall over Carrie as she sat. “Let me know what else I can do to help,” he said, wandering off towards his wheelbarrow, plant trays in hand, totally unruffled.

      Carrie wondered what he’d say if he saw The List.

      * * * *

      With only three days to go until Carrie’s cousin and her entourage arrived, things were looking pretty good. Nate had done what he could in the gardens, given his limited finances and the fact that it was now October and most of the plants were ready for a long, peaceful sleep. Not unlike himself.

      Carrie had been dragging furniture from one room to another, painting over the wallpaper in the bridal suite with a thick, creamy paint that would probably do for a week or two, until the pattern started to show through again. “I know we’ll have to do it properly later,” she’d said to him a few days earlier, as he helped her shift a chaise longue into the newly painted room. “But for now, I just want things to look clean and bright. We can work on actually making them that way when we have a bit more time and money.”

      She was working on the lobby today, cleaning rather than painting, Nate had seen, passing through on his way to the kitchen. The unicorn tapestry was down and draped across one of the armchairs in the drawing room. He wondered if she was going to put it back.

      The Seniors had been squirrelling around the inn for the last week and half, doing God only knew what. Nate had decided early on in the plan that the only way he was going to get through the whole enterprise without losing it with Stan or one of the others, or Carrie, was to let the Seniors get on with whatever they wanted, and to look after his area—the garden—and anything else Carrie needed him to do.

      But today, he had a much better plan. Jacob was doing a trial run of his romantic three-course dinner for Ruth and Graeme, and Nate figured he’d need a tester, right? Unfortunately, it appeared he wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea.

      “Let me guess,” Jacob said, defending the pan on the stove from Izzie’s wooden spoon. “You thought you’d come and see if I needed someone to taste the duck.”

      “Many hands make light work,” Cyb said from her position next to the cheesecake. Nate used the distraction to sidle up to the rack where the duck was resting.

      “Too many cooks,” Jacob muttered before smacking Nate’s hand away from the meat. “Not yet. Wait until it’s got the berry sauce on it.”

      Nate obediently stepped back, knowing the full dish would be worth waiting for. “Did you make the garlic potatoes?” he asked. As he moved towards the staff counter to put the kettle on, something hit him at thigh level and held on.

      “Uncle Nate!” Georgia squealed. “Are you going to play with me next?”

      Glancing up, Nate saw his grandmother appear in the doorway, her usually immaculate hair in disarray. “Someone else’s turn to babysit now,” she said, leaning heavily against the frame. She looked exhausted, Nate realised. What on earth had they been up to all week? “Stan needs me to do something with pictures up on the landing.”

      “I’ll watch her,” Izzie said, abandoning her spoon. Georgia went happily to the receptionist, reaching out a hand for her to hold. Nate wondered how much time they’d been spending together, and whether that was related to how much time Izzie wanted to be spending with Jacob. Probably without his daughter around. “Come on, Georgie. We’ll go play hide and seek with the curtains in the dining room.”

      They followed Moira out, and Nate turned to his cousin with a questioning eyebrow.

      “It’s a one-off, I swear,” Jacob said, holding up his hands. “Her mum couldn’t have her, the childminder’s sick, and Gran was already here helping Stan. She’s going to take her home in a little while.”

      “None of my business,” Nate said, even though it was, really. Jacob and Georgia were family, and the inn was home. It all mattered to him. “Just... Carrie’s pretty stressed this week. Might not be a good week for her to meet Georgia.”

      On cue, Nate’s phone rang, with Carrie’s name flashing across the top. “I’m in the kitchen,” he said as he answered. “About ten metres away. You saw me come in here.”

      “I’m on my way into town now,” Carrie answered, and he heard traffic in the background. “Need varnish for the reception desk. I forgot to check if there was anything you wanted for the garden.”

      “A greenhouse,” he answered, then laughed to make sure she knew it was a joke. It was hard to tell with Carrie at the moment.

      “I’ll take that as a no,” she said, and hung up.

      Nate turned to Cyb. “Boss is out for the next hour or so, I reckon. If there’s anything you need to do downstairs today, this might be the time.” Leaving him all alone with Jacob’s trial run.

      Cyb nodded. “I’ll go and check with—”

      A loud crash from the dining room interrupted her, and Nate winced. Jacob abandoned his saucepan, and ran through to find Georgia. Nate flicked off the gas and followed, Cyb right behind him.

      The large oak Welsh dresser that ran along the longest wall in the dining room, laden with rows of bright, white china on its narrow shelves, now leaned at an angle, jammed against the door, and its shelf part entirely separated from the cupboard below. Splinters of bright white china lay all around. To one side stood a trembling Georgia, silent tears dripping from huge blue eyes. Izzie knelt beside the girl, arms wrapped around her waist, holding her back from the carnage.

      “What the hell happened?” Nate asked as Jacob rushed to his daughter, pushing Izzie to one side.

      “She wanted to hide behind the dresser, I think,” Izzie said, her voice soft and shaken. “I was seeking, so I had my eyes closed...”

      Nate picked his way through the broken crockery to examine the dresser. It had been made to come apart, at least, presumably to help with moving. Which meant it should be possible to put it back together. Maybe even before Carrie got back. He opened the cupboard doors and stared at the mass of broken plates and bowls inside. “Was this all our china?”

      “The good stuff,” Jacob confirmed, looking up from Georgia.

      “Right.” Nate shut the doors again. “I think I can fix the dresser, but you two—” he pointed to Cyb and Izzie “—you need to sort the crockery issues. Before the show round.”

      Izzie looked terrified. Cyb, on the other hand, straightened her shoulders and said, “I’ve got an idea.”

      “Glad to hear it,” Nate said, and went to fetch his tools.

       Chapter 11

      When she woke up on Friday morning, Carrie’s first instinct was to crawl under the blanket and stay there.

      She’d spent two weeks in thrall to The List, and in places the inn still looked like a run-down 1970s motel. On the plus side, at least the Seniors had stayed out of her way—she didn’t think she’d seen Stan or Cyb since she’d spoken to Ruth, and even Moira had only popped in to deliver Nate’s lunches, as far as Carrie could tell.

      Nate, unfortunately, had been similarly absent. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t busy working. Carrie would leave a note with Izzie in the morning about something she’d thought of for him to do, and when she went to check that evening, it was always done. She just never actually saw him do it. Weirdly, she was starting to miss him and his interfering ways.

      Still, for better or for worse, it was show-round day, and there were still some things Carrie could do to get ready for the invasion.

      Showered, made-up and dressed in her best grey suit and lilac shirt, Carrie descended the stairs to find Izzie and Jacob poring over

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