He knew all that. He knew way too much about how the skaters’ business worked, in fact. He gritted his teeth. He was dying to ask about Emilie, but he could not.
“Uncle Nathan,” Nell said, “please don’t get mad at me. Hear me out.”
Obviously, she was flustered that he wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was, but for the moment, he couldn’t even speak. She had no idea of the pressure he was under, or the danger that their inn would be shuttered before the end of the year. She chattered on, pushing her outrageous, unformed idea.
“Those top two resorts you told me to study for competitive analysis? Well, they both have skating rinks, like us. But what they don’t have are shows or skaters to entertain their guests. It’s something we could have that they don’t—a competitive advantage, if you will. So I pitched the production company my idea to send the troupe from the sunken ship here to perform. It’s a win for us because these skaters have media attention right now. Huge media attention. Have you seen the television interviews they’ve been getting? It’s gone national! And we could get publicity by helping them out. Just think of the headlines—‘Prescott Inn saves shipwrecked skaters’ Christmas!’”
His head was swimming. Assuming all this was true... “But they’re cruise ship performers, Nell. The rinks are so much smaller.”
“Oh, no, Uncle. You’re thinking of this the wrong way. The skaters have a family-friendly Christmas show ready to be performed anywhere, even on land. I checked that part out.”
“We can’t,” he said softly. They couldn’t afford to hire them at all. Not in the remotest possibility. Rob had told Nathan to keep the truth of their financial precariousness a secret from everyone outside the circle of investors. And he understood why—if word got out that the inn might be put up for sale, then who in their right mind would call to book a room? And bookings were what they most needed.
He shook his head and thrust the contract forward. Emilie was an entirely separate issue. She’d been the love of his life, and Nell didn’t know about her, either. But that was his private pain.
Nell’s face reddened. “Uncle, this is a really good idea.”
“Fiscally,” he said gently, “it isn’t.”
“It is! We need to bring in revenue. People will come to the inn to see these skaters perform. We’ll fill up rooms for the winter.”
“For Christmas,” he interjected. The investors had made it clear that the holiday season was his immediate concern. The inn wouldn’t even last the winter if they didn’t have a successful Christmas first.
“Yes.” Nell nodded. “And as your marketing manager, I believe this will make us stand out. It will attract people to come and spend money and fill our rooms. Once the skaters are settled, there will be a show every day until Christmas, with the biggest finale on December 24. And as for costs, yes, there will be room-and-board expenses, but they’re minimal. There are ten figure skaters in the troupe and they’re used to berthing two to a room. Our rooms are bigger than cruise ship rooms, so they should like that. I figured we have the older, un-renovated rooms in the west wing that we rarely rent anyway. We can give them a good cleaning, and they’ll be set to go. We can give the skaters a standardized menu to order from in the dining room, so that will streamline costs, plus, we have a gym they can work out in, too, at no cost and—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand. He didn’t even want to listen to the idea anymore. It was making him remember Emilie and their life together on the ship. They’d worked out together in the ship’s gym every morning. He’d lifted weights, and she had worked on her stretches. She’d smile at him in her yoga pants and sports bra, with her hair in a carefree ponytail.
“Uncle, we can’t lose with this deal!” Nell insisted.
“What about their salaries?” he asked, forcing himself to think logically. “That’s a huge expense right there.”
“The cruise line is covering their contracts through Christmas,” she said, excited.
“Why would they do that?”
“I told you, there’s been attention in the national media. Haven’t you seen the video?”
“What video?” Nathan had been too busy preparing for his investors’ meeting to watch news or check social media. That was Nell’s job.
“A passenger was recording the ice show just as the ship hit the sandbar,” Nell said. “And he kept filming as the skating team evacuated everyone. The skaters were heroes. They kept their cool and got all the passengers out. The ice captain—a skater named Emilie—was interviewed on the chat shows last night and this morning through Skype. She’s a really great spokeswoman. So now everybody is super concerned about her troupe—they’re calling them ‘the homeless figure skaters.’ Maybe it’s embarrassing for the cruise line. In any case, the cruise line has offered to pay their salaries through Christmas if we agree to cover room and board. Then they won’t be homeless for Christmas, will they?” Nell smiled brightly at him.
Nathan’s head was spinning. Nell had lost him at the word Emilie. Was she really talking about his Emilie?
He couldn’t stand it anymore—he had to satisfy his curiosity. Ignoring Nell chattering beside him, he scanned through the contract to the end, where the skaters’ names were listed...
And there she was. Emilie O’Shea, Ice Captain. Nathan’s hand shook slightly. She’d been promoted to the job two years ago, just before their breakup. She’d been so proud of her promotion that day—so much so that she’d chosen her job and her skaters over being with him.
He still felt sick over the way it had ended. How could he relive the pain of that day again? He passed the contract back to Nell. “No,” he said firmly.
Nell frowned at him and crossed her arms. And then with renewed vigor, she kept pressing. “Did I tell you the skaters will come with their own costumes and props for the show, which has already been choreographed?”
“There are insurance fees and other expenses,” he said with tight lips. Whatever Nell could think to throw at him, he would counter. The truth was, he couldn’t evaluate the opportunity from a neutral perspective because the proposal involved Emilie.
“Read the contract, Uncle. It comes with insurance from the production company. Besides, that’s a minor detail. Look at the big picture. We need to fill rooms in order to have a financially viable Christmas. Am I right?”
More than she realized.
But Emilie had hurt him. And he had said things he later regretted. He had enough on his plate right now keeping his resort open without having to deal with the pain from his past personal life.
Plus the skating troupe would require him to keep the rink open, adding to his expenses.
On the other hand, Nell believed the troupe could be a solution to their financial woes. If skaters brought in enough income to offset the costs of their room and board, she could be right.
Still, he pushed back. “There are other considerations,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve sailed on a cruise ship with entertainment staff. You haven’t. Believe me when I tell you that, in my experience, they bring drama. And commotion. Plus, they’re used to eating all day long. They bounce in and out of the facilities as they please. They interact with the guests—”
“So, let them! Maybe they could give impromptu skating lessons.” Nell’s eyes were lit with excitement. “Uncle Nathan, you’re always telling me to buckle down and get serious, and I have. This is a good idea. Everyone loves outdoor skating at a New England inn at Christmastime.”
Maybe so. But bottom line, he couldn’t cope with seeing Emilie again.
He looked out over the path that led to the old ice rink. He’d skated here as a boy himself, when his grandparents had been alive and the inn was thriving. Those had been wonderful days...
But he shook his head. There were so many costs associated with this plan. “No, Nell.”
“Uncle, I don’t have anythin
g else to recommend to you.” Nell threw up her hands. “I’ve been brainstorming ideas for days, and I don’t have any other decent ones. But this one’s a winner—I know it. I understand you’re concerned about cutting costs because you’re an accountant at heart. Well, I’m a marketing person. We think of unique ways to bring in money. And the show skaters will give us the promotional ability to attract clients. We’ll have a unique story to tell about them—”
“The fact that we are a family-owned business, not part of a national chain, is our unique story,” he said in a harsher voice than he’d intended. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re really doing here, Nell,” he warned.
She crossed her arms. “Then I’m not sure I can help you anymore.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t listen to what other people say. You’re too closed off.” She gazed steadily at him. “Do you know that some of the staff are afraid of you? There’s been talk.”
He stiffened. “About what?”
“You’re too focused on cost cutting. We’re worried that you’re turning into Ebenezer Scrooge.”
He laughed and shook his head. Ridiculous. He couldn’t worry enough about cost cutting. Not after that meeting with his investors this morning. That was his all-consuming purpose for the next several weeks at least.
“Nell,” he said in his most serious voice, “I’m going to be honest with you. But this is strictly confidential. No one else can learn what I’m going to tell you. Can I count on you to keep it secret?”
She bit her lip, but she nodded. “Yes. You know that you can, Uncle Nathan.”
He hoped he was doing the right thing in trusting her. She was his family, so she had a right to the facts. “We’re having financial problems,” he said grimly. “Bad ones. My investors have given me a directive to turn around our cash flow by Christmas. If I don’t make the numbers they’ve given me, they’ll shut us down—finished and sold—at the end of the month.”
“Shut us down?” The blood drained from her face. “You mean close the inn?”
“Yes, Nell.”
Her mouth gaped.
“We have to keep it extremely low-key that we’re having these financial problems,” he warned. “Because if it becomes public knowledge, it could further damage the business. Can I trust you to support me on this?”
She nodded, swallowing.
He nodded, too. Case closed. No more talk of bringing in Emilie and her show skaters here, no matter what it would do for us.
“But that’s all the more reason to bring in Emilie and her skaters. I can get us lots of positive publicity if we bring them in,” Nell stubbornly repeated. “Look. Here’s the interview Emilie did this morning. The recording is from a Miami station, but they played it on the national morning shows, too.”
He stared at Nell. It appeared she really didn’t understand the seriousness of what they were going through.
“Nell,” he said patiently, “As I said, we can’t put money into a venture like this, so please stop suggesting it.”
“The contract doesn’t require us to put in any money. They have to find a place for Emilie or it would be bad publicity for them. Just read the contract, Uncle. You haven’t even looked at it yet. How can you make a blanket statement that we can’t afford it if you won’t even read it? Don’t you trust me? Me. I’m your family, Uncle.”
Her face was red with passion. And yeah, it killed him when she put it that way. He would like to indulge her. Nell was his closest family left in the area. Nathan’s sister—Nell’s mother—lived out in California. She’d been his sole ally as a kid. Only she really understood what pain their chaotic childhood had been.
Plus, Nell did have some good ideas.
Without a word, he picked up the contract and examined it. He read it line by line, paragraph by paragraph, because that was prudent business sense. It was practical.
It read exactly as Nell said it would.
Interestingly, he noted a paragraph that gave him an out if he was in any way dissatisfied with the troupe’s performance. He could cancel the agreement at any time, for any reason, and they would have to leave.
“How did this get in there?” he asked Nell, tapping the paragraph. From the production company’s perspective, it made terrible business sense.
“I asked for it,” she said proudly.
“You?”
“I knew you’d be a tough sell. I knew that clause would help to convince you.”
“They really, really want those skaters to find a home, don’t they?”
She smiled at him. But she hadn’t won yet.
He leaned his head back on the seat.
Nell waited patiently.
He sat up and scratched some figures, in pencil, on the side of the contract. If the inn’s maintenance manager, Guy, took care of the physical upkeep of the rink, and if they didn’t spend money on outside vendors, and if the publicity Nell was talking about came through...
“The skaters can have the rink,” he murmured. “But only half of it. The front half, where the floodlights still work.”
“All right,” Nell said cautiously. “Yes, I suppose they’re used to skating on smaller surfaces.”
“Guy will run the Zamboni once a day only, in the early morning, before work.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“And put it in the contract that they’re definitely to bring their own music, props, costumes, equipment and stage curtains. They have to be prepared to use our facilities as is. We’re not responsible for any big improvements or outlays of investment. I mean it, Nell.”
“Of course! Oh, yes! I’m sure they’ll agree to all that!”
He nodded, thinking grimly of Emilie. If this project went forward, he would have to face her again.
He didn’t relish that confrontation.
Then again, Emilie might not want to deal with him, either. They hadn’t parted ways on the best of terms. It had been abrupt, really.
“You would be the point person in dealing with this project,” he said.
“Great! Thank you for the opportunity, Uncle.”
The inn was a big place. He and Emilie might not even cross paths with one another. They could each pretend that the other didn’t exist, as they had been doing for the past two years.
Yes, Nell was capable of doing her job, and so was Emilie. The two of them could handle the shows without his input or interference.
And maybe Emilie wouldn’t want to come to Prescott Inn. She was the one who’d rejected him, after all. He would just have to see...
“So will you sign it, Uncle?” Nell said eagerly.
He gazed into his niece’s anxious brown eyes.
“Please, Uncle?”
* * *
EMILIE PAUSED AT the end of the hallway, phone glued to her ear, on hold with her boss, Lynn Bladewell.
Three days had passed since the Empress Caribbean had sunk. The production company had finally moved them off the island and into a hotel in Miami. It was still early in the day. The other skaters were in their rooms, exhausted from the ordeal.
After two days of living on cots in the school gym and assisting the cruise line with evacuating the last of the passengers from the tiny island and back to the mainland, they were now officially in limbo. Below Emilie, the Florida sun shone brightly on the Atlantic Ocean. Blue skies spread across the horizon as far as the eye could see. Gentle, perfect waves rolled in along the sparkling water.
Home. Or at least where her family lived. But Emilie hadn’t truly called Florida home since she started working for the cruise line.
Emilie’s mom, older sister and niece had met her at the hotel yesterday, when she’d first arrived with her troupe. They’d all cried and hugged each other. The ship’s sinking had scared everyone, but it was okay, Emilie had told th
em; they were all safe. She kept reassuring them of that over and over.
“Stay with us for Christmas, honey?” her mom had asked.
“I have to stay with my team, Mom.” And she did. That’s where her heart and her purpose was. The team needed her, and she felt responsible for them. Besides, she liked helping them. “Sergei and Katya are from Russia, and we have Gary and Rosie from Canada. Then there’s Lars from Norway. I can’t just abandon my people, who are so far from home, and at Christmastime.”
“Well...they can certainly spend Christmas with us,” her mom offered.
Emilie had smiled sadly at them. “Thanks for offering. I really do appreciate it.” But the thought of ten more people crammed into Mom’s tiny Fort Myers condo just didn’t make sense.
“So, what are you going to do, honey?”
“Well, the production company told me they’re working on a deal to get us into a land-based resort for the holiday season at least. If the deal goes through, the cruise ship has promised to honor our salary arrangement at least through Christmas, even though they don’t have to.” Emilie had been well aware that the media coverage she’d received had given her leverage with her bosses.
“So, where will you be working?” her sister had asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll find out tomorrow.”
And now here she was, waiting on the phone with Lynn. Still on hold. Nervous, she paced the hotel corridor. She was just so hoping that whatever Lynn arranged would enable them to stay together for Christmas. And keep their paychecks coming in. Frankly, she was still worried about Katya. She was rooming with Julie in the hotel, and Julie had confided to Emilie that she’d heard Katya tossing and turning in her sleep last night.
“Emilie?”
She jumped to attention. “Yes!” she said to Lynn. “I’m here!” She turned away from the window with the sand and the sun and the beach outside. After two days on a hot, sandy island she was just a little bit sick of the heat. “Do you have something for us?” she asked, praying with all her heart that they did.
Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 4