Christmas at Prescott Inn

by Cathryn Parry

  “Emilie, I’m planning to visit the inn next week, and Donnie has indicated he wants to join me to see your work, too. This is a big opportunity for you, Emilie.”

  “Donnie is coming to Prescott Inn? To see us?”

  “To see you, Emilie. I suggest showing him the new program you’re preparing.”

  This could be really great for them! But she had to get moving.

  “Emilie,” Lynn said in a cautious tone. “The fly in the ointment is Nathan. So far he’s been dodging my calls. Do you think he would be open to hiring more shows?”

  “Well, I stopped by the front desk on the way in just now, and a lot of people have booked rooms for our opening week. So we’ve definitely been helping his business, yes.”

  “Significantly?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Could you feel him out as to whether he intends to extend your contract? Add it to your agenda items tonight.” She paused. “This is important, Emilie.”

  “Okay. Yes,” Emilie promised. “I’ll ask him.”

  “Could you please call me back after the meeting?”

  Emilie swallowed. “All right. I’ll do that.”

  Lynn ended the call, and Emilie lay down on her bed again. She felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Everything seemed much more stressful than it had been.

  Julie opened the bathroom door and popped her head out. The hair-straightening appliance was in one hand, Emilie’s comb in the other. “Is it safe for me to come out now?”

  Emilie rolled over on the bed. “Yes. And please don’t stay out too late tonight. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow. And I mean a lot.”

  “No problem.” Julie left the appliance and comb on the counter and then plopped on the mattress beside Emilie. “You know I’m always ready to work.”

  “Where are you going tonight?” Emilie asked, curious.

  Julie gave her a secret smile. “Not gonna tell you, Ice Mom.”

  Emilie tossed a pillow at her. “We’re not on the ship anymore. Our situation is more serious now than just having parties in the crew’s quarters after work.”

  “Hmm. This corridor is the crew’s quarters, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Little kids and their moms live across the hall from us!” Emilie chided.

  “Yes, and what’s the deal with that, anyway?” Julie murmured, scooching closer on the bed. “Are they guests or residents?”

  Emilie wasn’t entirely sure. Greta, their housekeeping maid, had said that the families were living here “full-time,” whatever that meant, but Emilie hadn’t seen the housekeeping maid of late to ask her for more details. Their schedules were simply too busy.

  But she did have questions about Jason’s situation that she wanted to discuss with Nathan. She hadn’t made that up. She should talk to him about her concerns regarding the boy. Jason found his way to the rink every afternoon after school to watch them practice. Emilie wasn’t entirely comfortable that they hadn’t cleared that first with his mom, but he didn’t seem to have anywhere else to go. She felt sorry for the lonely boy and didn’t have the heart to bar him from the rink. He was younger than the other kids who were staying at the inn, so he got home from school earlier. He seemed to have lots of time to kill before his mother came home from work, and he enjoyed being with the skaters. But was that appropriate?

  Those were questions best asked of Jason’s mom, but Emilie hadn’t managed to catch the woman. Emilie presumed his mother had already been through a lot, and the last thing she wanted to do was complicate the other woman’s life further.

  “In your travels, have you met Jason’s mom yet?” Emilie asked.

  Julie pursed her lips, thinking. “No.”

  “Will you please watch out for her tonight? You stay up later than I do. And if you see her, will you knock on my door and wake me up? It’s important. I really do need to talk with her.”

  “Okay. I feel sorry for the kid, truthfully. The only thing that seems to make him happy is his cat.”

  “That cat followed him up to the skating rink today. Did you see him there?”

  “Yeah. The two of them were so cute, sitting on the boards and watching us skate.” Julie smiled. “You know, skating outside in the woods is growing on me. I mean, it’s cold, but I’m getting used to that. And it’s nice in the sun. It was a beautiful day today.”

  It was. Emilie lay back on the pillow and threaded her hands through her hair. Lynn had mentioned her intention to get Nathan to extend the skaters’ contract. How would she feel about staying here for the winter? That could be nice. She’d been so desperate for a home at Christmas for them, she hadn’t dared to think of the future beyond that.

  But to get to that future, well...she still needed an idea for the second show. And she had so many issues to address, especially where Nathan was concerned.

  But the bookings were up—she’d talked with Martha on the way in, and Martha had said that Nathan was in a great mood because of it.

  So Emilie had hope. She really did have hope.

  Emilie stood. “Julie, I have to leave for a meeting. If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be back by nine at the latest.”

  “Well, I won’t be back until after midnight.”

  Midnight was when the restaurant downstairs closed. Suddenly Emilie knew exactly where Julie was going: to pursue her interest in Nathan’s French chef. “Please don’t lead Claude on unless you really mean it,” she begged. “This is a small community here, and they’re our hosts. We’re trying to please them.”

  Julie zipped up the knee-length suede boots she’d bought with her Miami money. Julie loved those boots. “Don’t worry about me—I aim to please. And if you happen to see Nathan Prescott tonight, please put in a request for firepits, okay? A hot chocolate stand by the rink would be good, too.”

  Yeah, right. Emilie was a miracle worker, was she?

  She snorted to herself.

  Actually, if she did get Nathan to help her fix the falling-apart railings so that nobody else on her team got splinters, then she would be a miracle worker.

  Lynn and Donnie’s arrival was only a week away. Much too soon for Emilie’s liking.

  * * *

  BEFORE EMILIE HEADED to Nathan’s house with Claude’s dessert, she stopped by Katya’s room and knocked.

  Sergei answered the door.

  “Is Katya here?” Emilie asked.

  He nodded silently and then stepped back for her to enter.

  Katya was curled up on one of the double beds.

  “I’m going to be out of the hotel for a couple of hours for a meeting. But I wanted to check up on you before I leave,” Emilie said softly. She sat on the bed beside her. “Katya, when I was at the town clinic today, I saw that they have a counselor on staff. If you’d like me to bring you to meet with the counselor for any reason, then just let me know.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Emilie leaned closer. “You can talk to me. I’ll help you how I can.”

  “I’m most worried about sending money home to my mother. Our contract here is so tentative. Everything is fine, yes?”

  Emilie swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Will we be ready on time for our show?”

  They had to be ready. As far as Katya was concerned, her costumes seemed to have all come in too small, but with some quick seamstress work on Emilie’s part, that could be easily rectified.

  “We will be ready,” Emilie said firmly. “Are you okay with the choreography so far?”

  “I am glad to have no spotlights on me. Or to be on a moving ship.”

  “Do you mind the cold here?”

  Katya shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  Katya and Sergei had been smart. They’d used their company money to purchase warm practice clothing, unlike some of the other skaters.

>   “Well,” Emilie said, straightening, “I’m going into town for my meeting. Is there anything I can bring you?” It concerned her that Katya and Sergei had been keeping themselves apart from everyone else. This wasn’t how they’d acted on the ship. Then again, on the ship, they’d been part of a vibrant community of crew members who also came from their home country.

  “I’m fine,” Katya repeated. Emilie was at a loss for how to help her.

  Emilie glanced up at Sergei, who was quietly studying Katya.

  “Um, Sergei,” Emilie asked, “would you mind letting me talk privately with Katya for a moment? I would appreciate that.” She smiled brightly at him, and though she got a distinct inkling that he understood what she’d said, he didn’t move until Katya translated Emilie’s words for him.

  When they were alone, Emilie whispered to Katya. “What is really going on to make you so sad? You can tell me. It’s safe now. It does have something to do with Sergei, doesn’t it?”

  Katya closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow. “Yes.”

  “You’re not upset about your mother?”

  “Oh, that is true, I am always worried for my mother. But at the moment, it’s Sergei.”

  “Has he done something?” Emilie asked cautiously.

  “No. It’s just that I don’t love him. He is merely a friend. When we were on the ship, we had our friends. Now, he only has me.”

  “Does he know how you feel?”

  “Yes.” Katya nodded. “I tell him.”

  That was why he’d looked so miserable in practice. “Katya, how can I help you with this problem? It’s important to me that you’re happy.”

  “Happy?” Katya pressed her lips together. “Emilie, I am going down to dinner. You go to your meeting, yes?”

  It appeared Emilie was just not making the connection with her. After Katya had flounced off, Emilie knew she had to come up with some way to help her team member. Sergei, too. And what that was, Emilie had no idea.

  She would just have to add it to her ever-growing list of problems to conquer.

  * * *

  NATHAN PACED. What had he gotten himself into? It was ridiculous, but he was sweating like a teenage boy.

  He looked around his home, imagining it through her eyes. It was a solid log-cabin-styled house, on the private edges of town. Nothing flashy or fancy. Two bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs, an open floor plan with a kitchen, dining area and TV room. Standard fare, except for the small size. At least it was warm, with a woodstove that he kept fired up when he was home. Lately, it didn’t seem like he was home much. He was giving his job his all, 110 percent, just to keep the business alive.

  He opened the kitchen oven and took out the lasagna he’d made for the two of them. Emilie had liked Italian food.

  He’d made a salad, too, with the special blue cheese dressing that she’d always ordered when they were on board the ship. Plus a big, hot loaf of crusty bread, with extra butter and garlic.

  The garlic wouldn’t be an issue; it wasn’t as if they would be kissing. As much as he might want to, it was a terrible idea.

  There was a soft knock at the door. His heart jumping in his chest, he let her in.

  She’d let her hair down and put on pink lip gloss. He noticed as soon as she entered. She smelled good, too. It wasn’t the perfume she’d worn before, but this was nice. A warm vanilla scent.

  She smiled brightly when she saw him—too brightly, which threw him for a loop, because after Gary and the trip to the emergency room, he’d expected anger from her. Yes, he’d spoken with Nell and received an update on the medical center report, but he really should have called Emilie, too.

  She held out a cardboard cakebox. “Merry Christmas, Nathan. I decided to bring you the gingerbread.”

  He’d always loved gingerbread best. She had to remember that.

  “Thanks.” He set the box—still warm—on the edge of the dining table.

  His mouth watered. Claude had never made this dessert specifically for him, so Emilie must have asked the chef to make it because she remembered what he liked.

  Emilie is thoughtful to everyone, he told himself. Not just you—it isn’t personal.

  “I’ll take your coat,” he said politely.

  She slipped out of her parka and he hung it on a hook in his kitchen. She bent over and unlaced the hooks on her tall snow boots.

  Don’t let her warmth weaken your resolve, he reminded himself. He couldn’t spend any more money on the rink. If she had demands, his job was either to talk her out of it or to come up with alternatives, such as call her production company and ask for their assistance.

  She sniffed the air. “Is that lasagna we’re having?”

  He felt pride in his cooking. “Yes, it is.”

  “It smells delicious. I remember lots of lasagna dinners with you at the ship’s pasta bar. I never knew you could cook yourself.” She chuckled, but from the genuine smile on her face, she didn’t appear to have an ulterior motive for bringing that up.

  He relaxed somewhat.

  “This is a nice house,” she remarked, walking over to the center of the living area and gazing up at the timber beams and the wide airy space. “Do you mind if I have a tour?”

  “Well, it’s your basic log cabin home. Downstairs, you can see. Upstairs, just a loft area with bedrooms.” He forced a smile at her.

  She smiled back, not catching his tension. “Did you build the home yourself?”

  “No.”

  “It looks new,” she said, returning to the dining table.

  “It’s renovated,” he admitted.

  “That cost a lot of money, I bet.”

  Where was she going with this? “The house came as a parcel deal with the inn,” he explained tersely. “The previous owner lived here. I just moved in.”

  “Well, it’s a very nice house.” She smiled brightly at him again. “And you’re doing financially well, I assume?”

  “Emilie, what’s going on? Why are you asking me this?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, Nathan, I’m not too subtle, am I?” She gave him a sheepish look. “My boss called me right before I left the inn tonight. She said she sent you something about option papers but you’ve been dodging her calls. I’m not up on business and contracts and things like that, but she asked me to find out if you’re...financially viable. Those were the words she used.”

  Uh-huh. Nathan had seen the email from Lynn Bladewell in his inbox and hadn’t wanted to deal with it until he could assuage his investors. There was nothing he could tell Ms. Bladewell, anyway—at least nothing truthful. But he couldn’t avoid the issue now. He should have known there was an ulterior motive to this dinner.

  “Emilie, you can tell your boss that Prescott Inn has never been better financially.” There was anger in his tone, and from the flash of alarm that crossed Emilie’s face, he knew she’d heard it.

  “I’m sorry, Nathan,” she said, chastened. “I wouldn’t have brought this up if Lynn hadn’t asked me to. That’s the truth. I really am here to talk with you about Jason.”

  The difficult thing was, Nathan believed her. And he also wanted to talk about the quiet young boy who troubled Nathan, too.

  Nathan swept his hand before him. “Please, take a seat. I’ll bring out the lasagna and the bread and the salad. I’m out of wine, so I hope you’re okay with sparkling water.”

  “That would be great.” She gazed at him with a look of genuine relief.

  * * *

  “SO...” EMILIE BEGAN, licking her lips to get the last taste of the delicious basil tomato sauce that Nathan had made, and then settling back in her chair. “I told you that Jason has been fascinated by us skating up at the rink in the woods. Well, we caught him walking up the hill by himself, and then hiding behind the trees with his cat.”

  Nathan gave a slight sm
ile.

  “He does love that cat,” Emilie continued, “but still, I was worried about him walking on the road alone, so I started giving him rides in the Jeep. And I know that I really shouldn’t do that unless I talk with you and his mother. Then again, I was worried about leaving him alone, too.”

  Nathan nodded, listening intently. His eyes showed pain and compassion. “Jason is often alone. Maybe watching you is his way of...trying to find a family.”

  “Do you think so?”

  Nathan nodded. “I haven’t personally met his mother, but her name is Maria. She and Jason came from the homeless shelter.”

  “I’ve wondered about that.” Emilie put down her fork and regarded Nathan. “That’s kind of you to host those families.”

  Nathan studied his hands. “It’s important to me,” he said softly. “The shelter is fine, but it’s overcrowded and...not really a place for kids.”

  “No,” Emilie agreed.

  Nathan smiled sadly. “I’ve only talked with Jason a couple of times. But I first met him on the day we were putting up the Christmas tree in the lobby.” His face turned cloudy. “Jason asked to borrow a Christmas stocking. He was worried that Santa Claus won’t be able to find him.”

  “That’s so sad!”

  “I know.” Nathan nodded. He gave Emilie a guilty look. “I ordered him one, of course. With his name embroidered on it.”

  She reached over and touched Nathan’s hand. “I’m glad.”

  She let her hand linger. He didn’t move it away.

  “So, what do we do now?” she murmured.

  His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I’ll talk with his mother, and then we’ll make sure he has a happy Christmas morning.”

  Emilie blinked moisture from her eyes.

  Nathan smiled at her. “I’m not the Scrooge they say I am.”

  “You have them all fooled.”

  He chuckled softly, and she removed her hand.

  “Tell me about Gary, Emilie. I talked briefly with Nell about it, but from your point of view, what happened up there today?”