Christmas at Prescott Inn

by Cathryn Parry

  “Oh.” It was strange how saddened he was by Nell’s explanation. He’d really wanted to watch Emilie skate again.

  “Are you ready, Uncle? I’m going to start the audio now.”

  “Yes.” He sat up and pushed aside his thoughts. He had to concentrate on his camera work.

  “It’s showtime.” Nell grinned wickedly and pressed the button for the audio to begin.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “GO,” EMILIE MURMURED, and she opened the curtain for Gary so he could skate onto the stage. Nell had started the theatrical fog machine, and a hazy smoke clung low to the ice, giving the nostalgic mood that Emilie had hoped to achieve.

  Gary made a moody and dramatic line of gliding loop steps down one side of the rink. Nell kept the spotlight on him as he moved through the mist. Emilie had meant for her set design to feel like the forest in winter. A gasp went up from the audience members as Gary skated past.

  Emilie breathed a sigh of pleasure. From the murmuring she heard, it appeared that they recognized the character Gary played. He wore a groomed but bushy beard, meant to mimic the look that Philip Prescott sported in his large portrait, which was located both in the lobby of the inn and also up in Nathan’s office, over his desk.

  Emilie glanced toward the box where she knew Nathan was seated. He was working behind the video camera, following Gary as the other man skated intricate steps meant to mimic meandering through the New Hampshire woods.

  And then over the music, the narration sounded. Gary’s voice, meant to represent that of Philip Prescott himself, explaining how he’d come to New Hampshire.

  Nathan’s lips parted in surprise. The audience clapped and then cheered. A few people whistled.

  Yes, Emilie had created this show specially to represent the dramatization of the founding of Prescott Inn. She was taking a risk performing it today. Everyone had been expecting to see her company’s generic Christmas program, with songs and skating routines that represented a child’s view of Christmas.

  That was not this show. Originally, Emilie had hoped that Lynn and Donnie would appreciate how she’d created a program specially tailored to the regional venue and its audience. She’d also chosen routines that showcased her team’s technical and interpretive talents. Lynn and Donnie weren’t in the audience, and neither one of them might ever watch this recording, but if they did, she hoped they’d see that the audience at Prescott Inn understood and enjoyed the theme. From the clapping and cheering, it appeared that they did.

  In the next number, Katya and Sergei skated an adagio piece that was meant to represent Philip’s courting and marriage to Ava, Nathan’s grandmother. This time, Sergei wore Philip Prescott’s bushy beard and his costume had been altered to resemble a distinctive midcentury suit. Katya wore a beautiful white wedding dress, with a lace veil.

  Katya was exquisite in her representation of Ava doing the wedding waltz. Katya was an Olympian with great skill. Not only was the local audience viewing a story catered to them, which they knew well, but they were also viewing world-class skating from a former champion who was at the top of her game.

  Sergei, too, was skating more passionately with Katya than Emilie had ever seen him skate. He picked Katya up easily, with little apparent effort, and together they executed a flawless triple twist. They had the space of the large rink to execute the daring and breathtaking moves, so Emilie had asked them to put in all of their most difficult elements.

  Sergei launched Katya expertly into an awe-inspiring throw triple loop jump. Katya landed perfectly on one blade, her arms extended in a gorgeous dancer’s pose. Even the skaters behind the curtain with Emilie were peering through the cracks, sighing at the beauty of the program. When Katya landed her jump, Emilie heard more than a few squeals and the muted slap of high fives being exchanged between the backstage skaters.

  This was the most technically and artistically difficult show Emilie’s cast had ever produced. It was daring for them.

  She felt ecstatic at the effect.

  The voice-over next described the war years and the expansion of Prescott Inn. It was time for the rest of the cast to cue up backstage for the first big group number. The remaining seven members of the troupe skated onto the ice, representing the workers at Prescott Inn: waiters, chambermaids, desk clerks—and even Frank’s grandfather, the original valet at the inn.

  Emilie hung behind, waiting until Katya and Sergei were safely behind the curtain again. Emilie assisted Katya as she changed into her next costume. A red velvet dress, meant to represent Ava as a young mother and Christmas hostess.

  “You did beautifully,” Emilie breathed into Katya’s ear. “I’m going to send you a copy of the tape so you can watch it, too.”

  “I landed the throw triple loop!” Katya whispered excitedly. “Did you see it!”

  “Yes, we all did.”

  Katya was excited because she hadn’t performed the difficult move before an audience since her competitive days.

  “Help me with my prop,” Emilie whispered to Katya. She needed to attach a large harness to her waist, which would have a particular effect on her skirt as she executed her spins.

  “I have it,” Katya said, snapping a series of large gossamer handkerchiefs into place. She glanced around. “Where are the children?”

  “They have their cues,” Emilie murmured. She only hoped they remembered. They were little kids, after all. But they would all do their best.

  The soundtrack changed to a quirkier, more humorous tune. “That’s my cue,” Emilie whispered, as Katya held open the curtain for her. Emilie skated onto the ice, still in the shadows. She waited until the seven other members finished their number.

  Hugging herself, Emilie focused on Drew. The young champion stepped into a back crossover, and then executed an entrance of six or seven more gliding steps with deeply bent knees, building up a tremendous amount of speed, the fastest that any of her troupe skated by far. He started down the end of the rink closest to the curtain and then headed directly toward Frank, who was standing beside one of the firepits. Halfway across the rink, he stepped into a shallow forward-inside three turn, and then launched himself into the hugest quadruple toe-loop that Emilie had ever seen in person.

  The audience gasped. Drew seemed to be flying.

  After what seemed like an especially long time, he finally landed cleanly. The place broke out into cheers. Even Sergei jumped up and punched his fist beside Emilie.

  It was the most difficult move any of them would perform. This was not a kiddie carnival show. This was world-class skating, and it was exactly what Emilie had set out to achieve.

  Now it was her turn. The pacing of the music changed. She was meant to bring down the emotion from excitement—representing the energy of building a new, successful business, where patrons came from all over the country—to the gentle genesis of the young couple’s family.

  Emilie skated gracefully to center ice. She felt gratified when she was recognized and cheered roundly. But she went ahead with her dance, finally stepping into a strong forward outside edge to begin her combination spin finale. Spinning was Emilie’s forte—what she’d been known for her in her younger, competitive days. But years of working with professionals on the ship had helped her mature her style to that of exquisite grace and beauty. The delicate ribbons on the skirt of her dress enhanced the vision. The spotlight caught the metallic sheen of the costuming. The audience sighed and gasped.

  She moved from a camel spin to a layback with many changes of arm position. She slowed the spin down and then sped it up again. She changed feet and did it all once more, ending with the most dramatic, fastest blur of a backspin that she could manage. She kept the spin centered and tightly rotated. Not having to worry about the stage dipping and jerking as it had on the ship was wonderful. Prescott Inn now had a superbly smooth ice surface, and being outside, in the open air, was exhilarat
ing.

  But her number wasn’t finished yet. The theatrical fog machine started up again. Dramatically, Emilie skated to the open door near the firepit, where Frank had been stationed.

  There they were, Emilie’s cuties. Jason was the littlest, so she held out her hand and led him forward. He ran and then glided like a wobbly colt on his new hockey skates. Gary had bought them for him. The cast had been taking turns enthusiastically teaching the kids a few beginner moves whenever they had the chance. All six kids skated eagerly out to center ice, and joined hands as Emilie had coached them. Gliding on two feet, they twisted their hips so they were first skating forward, and then when she called out, they switched so they were going in reverse. They looked so adorable. The crowd cheered them on.

  And always, Gary’s narration sounded over the music. Now he was telling the story of Ava Prescott, the lady of the inn, who so loved to skate that her husband had built her a rink in the mountain clearing. There she’d given lessons to local children. They had Friday night dance parties and Saturday afternoon hockey games. Ava Prescott had skated to her heart’s content.

  The song came to an end, and Emilie lined up the children to take their bows and curtsies, first to one side of the audience, and then to the other side, just as she’d taught them. Emilie herself dipped into a curtsy. She rose and saw Nathan staring directly at her, a smile on his lips.

  She caught her breath. Her blood was already pumping with the adrenaline and intensity of performing for a live audience, but when she caught his admiring look, it felt as if two years and a lot of recent emotional conflict fell away, as if they’d never been separated by anything. Emilie blushed and then couldn’t help but give him a little wave.

  The impulsive gesture made her late for her cue. It was time for the ice dance number—the Friday-night dance parties recreated. Sheepishly, Emilie skated as quickly and unobtrusively as she could to the back curtain.

  Even if her gambit to impress Lynn with this show so her boss would consider her for a choreographer job was no longer relevant, for this one moment, it didn’t matter to her. They’d all been having so much fun, Emilie wouldn’t take back the experience for the world.

  But it was all for just this moment. She was practical. Tomorrow, she’d leave Prescott Inn. And Nathan. After what he’d told her about his parents, she now knew he could never be with a traveling show person. Not given the way his parents had abandoned him when he was a child.

  As she’d said to him, she still wanted to be involved in performance, whether as a skater or as a choreographer. And to truly be with Nathan, she would have to give up the flexibility she’d need in order to travel to be a creative choreographer.

  She now knew what she wanted. So why did the idea of leaving fill her with so much pain?

  * * *

  NATHAN’S HEART WAS beating so loudly, it was a wonder that Nell couldn’t hear it, even over the pulsing music on the soundtrack and the audience’s enthusiastic cheers.

  The show was utterly fantastic! Emilie had put together an amazing, entertaining performance, and the fact that she’d organized the theme around Nathan’s grandfather...it honestly brought tears to his eyes. He’d been shocked at first to discover that the show’s theme was his grandparents’ story. Then when he realized just how much Emilie understood how Nathan cared about his family’s past, he’d been utterly humbled.

  She’d gotten every detail of the inn’s history right. He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten all of her information from, but it didn’t matter, because she’d managed to capture the great love Nathan felt for his amazing grandparents. And people in the audience appreciated that the show was tailor-made for their community and this setting.

  Not to mention the talent that this young cast displayed—he’d never seen anything like it in person. Not even on the cruise ships had the skating been this excellent. Locals would have to go into the city to catch a traveling skating show of this caliber, and even then they would be seated in a massive arena, far above the ice. The rink in the woods at Prescott Inn had low and intimate seating. When a skater jumped on the ice, it seemed possible he might actually land in Nathan’s lap.

  Smiling to himself, he concentrated on the video recorder, making sure to follow the action so he could get the skaters’ every step and move clearly recorded. He did this for Emilie mainly, but an idea was fast taking shape in his mind, as well.

  By the time the skaters had performed the finale, the crowd was on their feet, wildly cheering. Nathan kept the camera trained on all eight skaters at center ice, planning to hold it there until the final strain of music faded away into the afternoon air. The snow flurries were coming down a bit harder now, which added to the festive excitement. When the melody abruptly ended, the kids sitting in the front row were so excited, they hopped over the barrier, sliding across the ice, toward the skaters.

  Chuckling softly, Nathan kept the video running. By now, a great throng was dancing and partying at center ice. The kids were having so much fun, and anyway, Emilie could always cut the tape later.

  “Can you believe this?” Nell asked, laughing beside Nathan. “Should I turn on the fog machine again, Uncle?”

  “No,” he said, laughing despite himself. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “You have to admit, it would be really fun for everyone to skate through.”

  “Yeah.” And he also had to admit that he was itching to hop the railing and join the dancing. Nell rewound the final song to play it again. “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge started up once more.

  “All we need is a disco ball,” Nathan said with a laugh. He finally stopped the recording and stood. The scene was getting too crazy, and he’d lost sight of Emilie. All he wanted to do right now was see her.

  She emerged from the crowd at last. She wore a green dress and glitter in her flowing hair, and she was heading his way.

  He stepped down from the bleacher seats to greet her, never losing sight of her face. Her cheeks were rosy with joy and her eyes flashed brightly. It felt just like it used to be between them, after he’d been to one of her shows on the ship—only better. A lot better.

  Nathan reached forward and lifted Emilie up from the crowd to the first set of benches. He twirled her around and then set her down beside him. It was as if they were in their own protected bubble and nobody else was part of their world.

  “I got the whole show for you,” he said, indicating the tripod three rows above them. His voice felt husky. “All of it.”

  He gazed deeply into her eyes, and he seemed to get lost there. She licked her lips and tilted her head back. He was acutely aware of the heat of her body so close to his.

  He bent and kissed her. She kissed him back, gladdening his heart. Her arms went up, around his neck, and he kissed her more deeply as he drew her closer to him.

  He loved her. He’d never stopped loving her, but now, after this journey they’d been through together, he much better appreciated what she meant to him. He would never forget this moment. Would never take her presence for granted again.

  Shyly, she drew away from him, blushing a bit, softly laughing. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she murmured into his ear. “I really didn’t.”

  “Well, I did,” he said. He kissed her cheek. “You were amazing, Emilie. You’re always amazing, but choreographing this show was the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”

  Her cheeks flushed redder. “Is that what you think I did, Nathan?”

  “Well, you did it for all of us, of course. For everybody. You know what I meant,” he said, flustered. This wasn’t coming out right.

  “I have to go,” she said, pointing to her skaters and laughing in delight. Everybody was hugging and kissing and jumping up and down for joy. “Isn’t this incredible? I never thought I’d be part of such a fun show. This day was magical.” As Emilie hopped back down to the ice, she blew a kiss at Natha
n, performer-style, and Nathan couldn’t help smiling even though she was leaving him.

  And maybe the separation was only temporary. A plan was unfolding in his mind. A plan that would enable them to be together. A plan to keep his kids—and he thought of them as his kids—with a roof over their heads. A plan with Nell working beside them. And Martha and Frank and Claude...everyone would be employed.

  Nathan stepped down to the path that separated the ice rink from the bleachers. Bounding past townspeople, shaking hands, nodding at old friends, he completed nearly a full lap around the rink before he found the one person he’d been looking for.

  B.G. Richards, his minor investor. B.G. was standing with his wife beside the firepit, gazing thoughtfully at the ice as he listened to one of the firefighters.

  Nathan greeted B.G’s wife with a half hug and a “Hello.” He caught B.G.’s eyes. B.G. clapped the firefighter on the back, and then headed over to Nathan’s side.

  “That was some performance,” B.G. said. With his chin, he pointed toward the mass of humanity still mingling on the ice surface. “My kids are out there, playing.”

  “Did they enjoy the show?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll be hearing about this for days. My daughter already told my wife that she wants skating lessons.” He glanced at Nathan. “Too bad we couldn’t set up a hockey league here for the kids who want to hockey skate, too.”

  Nathan stared hard at him. “You want to keep the inn open as is, don’t you? Well, consider what a risk it might be to sell to out-of-towners, at any price. Who knows what they’d really do to the property? The locals would have no say. Am I right?”

  B.G. averted his eyes. “It’s not my decision,” he said softly. “I’m not the majority investor.”

  “How come Rob didn’t come out today? Nell said she invited everybody in town.”

  B.G. shrugged. “Probably didn’t want to see it.”