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.
“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 recognise.
“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 any more. 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 towards Moira’s table.
Nate poured Carrie some more wine from her bottle and said, “Clearly, we are going to have to practise 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.
But these people had gone out of their way to help her. They knew her grandmother and Nancy had loved them. Sitting in a warm room, having a drink and puzzling over why she only bid the number of tricks over six she thought she could win just didn’t sound so bad any more.
And the added advantage of staring at Nate Green over the table didn’t hurt at all.
Nate was even more puzzling than the tricks things. She’d assumed, when she first heard about the will, that he’d just be one more person trying to tell her what to do, trying to make things happen his way. Who would assume she couldn’t do it, so try and take over himself.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d supported her, helped her out, done what he could to make things easier for her—all while making it clear that she was still the boss. It was…baffling. And new. And she liked it.
If she was honest, she liked Nate. Liked knowing he was there beside her, a pair of wonderfully wide shoulders to lean on.
Not that she should rely on him too much, she reminded herself. Quite apart from the fact that she was determined to prove she could do this herself, Nate himself had told her he was a flight risk. He didn’t stay. And even Nancy’s attempt at making him stick it out at the Avalon longer than he’d like would only work for so long.
Strange to think that when she arrived, that had been a comfort. Now she didn’t even want to think about it.
“So, basically, if I want to stay at the Avalon, not only do I need to fix up the whole place, but I also need to learn to dance and play bridge?” Carrie asked, trying to distract herself from her own thoughts.
Cyb’s reply was perfectly serious. “And sing. Can you sing? I don’t think Nancy ever said.”
“She’s got a beautiful voice,” Nate answered, and Carrie turned to him in surprise.
“How would you know?”
Nate shrugged. “Nancy told me.” But Carrie kept looking as his gaze darted away, and the feeling she’d had on her arrival, the first moment she’d seen him, came back. Carrie was certain she’d met Nate Green somewhere before. She just wished she could remember where.
“Well, Cyb, you’re going to have to give me dance lessons, then,” Carrie said. Nate was a puzzle for another time. Late at night, perhaps, when she couldn’t sleep. She swallowed at the thought of Nate Green, late at night. Maybe not then. “Because I’m rubbish at that too. As Nate can attest.”
“You were fine,” Nate said, but he raised his glass to his mouth quickly so he couldn’t be pushed further.
“I was awful.” Carrie smiled at Cyb. “What about it? Want a new pupil? I saw you and Stan spinning round the floor like the next Strictly champs.”
“That