“Well, I know what will excite him.”
“Ah...10 percent interest rates again?” B.G. cracked.
Nathan laughed. “Sorry, I’m not Santa Claus,” he teased. Sobering, he added, “We’ve got two more weeks until Christmas. If I can convince Emilie to stay for the duration, she has two choreographed shows teed up and ready to go—this one and their traditional Christmas-themed show. What if we asked her to schedule one show per day, alternating shows, from now until Christmas Eve?”
“You think you can do that?”
“Yes, I believe I can.” One thing that Emilie and Nell and the skating troupe had shown him was that, with enough belief, anything was possible.
“Well...” B.G. said cautiously. “I don’t see why she would want to do it.”
“I’ll start by sweetening the pot for her skaters. They’re taking a vote tonight about whether or not to stay—I have an idea for how to convince them. Several of them came to me asking for comped rooms for their families so they could be together for the holiday. That’s what I’m going to give them.”
“Rob won’t be happy about that.”
“That’s too bad. I’m not happy with Rob, either.”
A smile twitched on B.G.’s lips.
“In the meantime, I need you to find out who the potential buyers for the inn are,” Nathan said. “That’s critical to the plan.”
“Are you going to try and buy them out?”
“No. On the contrary.” Nathan realized now that his dream had to change and grow. Philip Prescott’s legacy wasn’t just this inn; it was the love he’d given Nathan and his sister. And honoring that love meant trying to do what he could to make sure Emilie’s dream came true. So he had a plan to get Donnie and Lynn here for Christmas Eve. Nathan might not be able to save Prescott Inn, but Emilie could achieve her choreography dream.
She was great at it. Anyone could see that. And if he could engineer the meeting between her management team and a new potential owner of an ice rink...well, he was counting on good things happening for her.
“What are you going to do Nathan, if you don’t have your grandfather’s inn?”
“Well, the world needs itinerant accountants, too.”
B.G.’s eyes bugged out. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” And Nathan felt perfectly content with this choice. His grandfather’s dream didn’t necessarily have to be his dream. It was time to make his own.
Emilie needed to travel in order to be a choreographer. Perhaps he could travel with her...
“Sounds like you’ve come full circle.”
Maybe he had.
“Let’s get started,” he said to Rob.
Time to win back Emilie.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AN HOUR LATER, the post-show cast party had moved to the downstairs lounge at Prescott Inn.
Nell arranged for a roaring fire to be laid in the fireplace. Julie—who knew how to operate most everything in the inn by now—set up a Christmas pop rock soundtrack from an internet streaming service. Music poured over the overhead stereo speakers.
The cast had unpacked the red-and-green boas from the prop bag for the Christmas show, and the three young women—minus Emilie and Katya—danced in unison to “Jingle Bell Rock.” The shelter kids joined in, too. Katya and Sergei were sitting on the couch in the alcove—Katya with Jason’s cat in her lap—and were speaking earnestly to each other as they drank spiked cranberry punch.
Nathan surveyed the scene, surprised to find he was enjoying himself. He’d grown to love being part of their revelry. He wasn’t sure where Emilie was, but she had already taken the video card from the camera, and since Gary was missing, too, Nathan suspected they were reviewing the footage on Gary’s laptop.
Good for her, he thought. He would do all he could to help Emilie achieve her dream.
Nathan beckoned Nell over to him. She stepped down from mischievously fastening a sprig of mistletoe over the doorway.
“I saw you kissing Emilie this afternoon,” she said.
“And?” He grinned at his niece. He wasn’t embarrassed at being caught. In fact, he wanted to keep the momentum going. “Look, Nell, I need you to help me.” He hadn’t been paying much attention to the skaters in Emilie’s troupe, but that was going to change. “You and I are going to meet with Emilie’s skaters. I want to influence them into voting to stay and perform until Christmas.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Bribery.” He grinned wickedly at her. “We still have some rooms that haven’t been booked from now until Christmas. I know some of the skaters had arranged for their families to meet them here for the holidays. I’m going to offer to comp these rooms for the skaters’ families. It’s the least we can do.”
Nell’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re not giving up?”
“Nope.”
“What about your investors group? What will they say?”
“I’ll deal with them.” Nathan gestured toward the door. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes!”
They both trotted up the stairs, toward his office.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of something like this earlier,” he confided to her. “I was so hung up on cutting expenses, I missed the forest for the trees.”
“I have an idea, too, Uncle!” Nell gave him a brilliant grin. “If we get the skaters to stay, then we should double down to make sure and pack the stands with people at every performance. Our whole focus will now be on selling tickets rather than booking rooms. Packed stands will make Emilie look even better to her bosses.”
“I like it,” he mused.
“There have to be day trippers within driving range that we can target. Let’s get the skaters to help get the word out. Did you know some of them have blogs and mailing lists? And they all have social media. And...” She clapped her hand to her mouth. “What if they make cold calls with us, too? To past customers who’ve indicated that they like skating—remember those marketing cards I kept last year?—well, those people who indicated they were interested in skating might really get a kick out of talking to real, live champion ice-skaters. Especially if they’ve got kids who are fans.” But Nell wasn’t finished. “Uncle, we could organize special meet-and-greets, too! For the skaters who are willing, of course.” She smiled apologetically. “But you know what I mean. It’s like when you go to a live concert, there’s an option to buy special VIP passes.”
“You’re amazing, Nell,” he said to her. “Have I told you that lately?”
“Not nearly enough,” Nell said.
“Well, that’s gonna change.” He opened the door to his office and gestured for her to lead the way to the computer. “You are amazing.”
“And you, Uncle, have found Christmas spirit! At last!”
Nathan guffawed at that one. But maybe Nell was right. And Emilie had a whole lot to do with that. Maybe everything.
“In any event,” he said to Nell, “bring the skaters to my office. We’ll talk to them up here. Try to make their absence inconspicuous with Emilie, okay?”
“Oh,” Nell said, understanding. “This is going to be a surprise!”
“Yes, for Emilie.” He nodded. “I want Emilie to get the Christmas present that she deserves.”
* * *
EMILIE STOOD IN her bathroom, the door closed. She felt like knocking her head against the mirror.
What had she done, kissing Nathan like that?
The hardest part was that it had felt right at the time. Maybe it was the excitement of the afternoon—the after-performance glow—but when she’d seen him smiling for her, loving her, she just couldn’t resist expressing the love in her own heart. The barrier between them had faded. His pure heart was all she’d seen.
Now, under the cold fluorescent lighting in the hotel bathroom, she cleaned her stage makeu
p off her face and combed the glitter from her hair. This was reality again. She was a skater and hopefully someday a choreographer, and as such, she needed to travel. Nathan would never leave his inn, his town, his community. He was the kind of guy who wanted roots, not moving from place to place.
Nathan had said he loved her, and she believed him. She loved him, too. His strength. His caring. His humility.
But with the parents he’d had, he could never go on the road, or be with someone who was constantly traveling.
Viciously, she scrubbed at the heavy rouge on her cheeks, willing it to come off. It wasn’t fair—she really did love him. She loved his funny ways, his loyalty to what he believed in, his kindness toward Nell and the kids who lived in the inn.
She and Nathan did share a lot of values in common. But ultimately, they wanted different things.
She changed out of her skating dress and hung it on the shower rod, probably for the last time. Sadness permeated her.
She put on a pair of soft cotton yoga pants, the warm red sweater she wore far too often these days and a fluffy pair of wool socks.
Gary was waiting for her in the main part of the room. He sat at the desk with his laptop turned on. “I’ve already started reviewing the footage. Whoever recorded our show did a good job.”
“That would be Nathan.” Emilie dragged over a chair and sat beside Gary. “Let’s check the footage before we send it on to Lynn’s email account.”
“Already did that while you were getting changed,” Gary said. He’d taken off the “Philip Prescott” beard, but he still wore his skating pants and shirt. “It looks good, except...you might want to cut this part.”
Emilie swallowed. Was her kiss with Nathan on tape?
Gary stopped the footage, pressed a button and let it run.
“Oh,” she said, relieved to see the moments after the show. “This is when the kids mobbed the ice after the music stopped.”
“Technically, it’s not part of the performance.”
“Leave it,” she said. “Let Lynn and Donnie see how the audience enjoyed themselves.”
“And it was only a dress rehearsal,” Gary marveled.
“It was more than that.” To Emilie, it was proof that she could enjoy herself and do what she loved.
She got out her phone and dialed up Lynn.
Her boss answered right away. “How did it go?”
“Great. Better than great. We’re sending you the footage now.”
“Thanks.” Lynn cleared her throat, and then paused. “Emilie, I’ll do what I can, but...”
But she wasn’t optimistic.
“You should prepare yourself for...whatever comes next,” Lynn said.
“I know.” Emilie felt as if she’d climbed the heights and then plumbed the depths, all in one afternoon. She didn’t have the heart to talk about her future anymore.
“I’ve decided to give the cast the option to vote on whether we stay through Christmas. Gary will call you later with the decision on whether we’re staying or not, once he meets with the cast to take their vote.”
“Fine,” Lynn said. “I’ll be waiting to hear.”
Emilie hung up the phone. As she did, she felt deflated. She had absolutely no hope left.
Gary was staring at her, thoughtful.
“Is the tape uploaded to Lynn’s email?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“Then please, I’d like you to be in charge of the vote. You know what mine is—I want to go home. I’m going to stay here and sleep.”
Gary stood. “Okay...”
She went over and peeled back her bed covers as he opened the door and left. But before the door could close, there was another soft knock.
“Emilie?” It was Nell’s voice.
Emilie rolled over. “If you need something, please see Gary.”
“I want to see you.”
“Why?”
Nell tentatively came over to her bedside. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Not really.”
Nell touched her wrist to Emilie’s forehead. Emilie couldn’t remember the last time somebody had worried about her.
“You don’t seem feverish. Is something else the matter?”
When Emilie didn’t answer—what could she say?—Nell added, “There’s a party going on in the lounge. Everybody’s dancing. When I saw you weren’t there, I was worried about you.”
“I’m just not in the spirit for a party.”
“Wow,” Nell said. “You and my uncle have really switched places.” She smiled wryly.
“Is Nathan dancing?” She found herself hoping that he was. Nathan deserves enjoyment in his life, she thought sadly.
“Oh, no.” Nell laughed. “No, Nathan is up in his office. He’s bound and determined to work miracles for you, Emilie.”
“Right. Let me know how that goes.”
“I spotted you guys kissing,” Nell said shyly. “Nathan is pretty happy about that.”
“Nell, I’m sorry,” Emilie murmured.
“Yes.” Nell finally got the hint, and stood. “I understand. You’re tired from the show.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right. You have another show at three o’clock.”
“Very funny,” Emilie said.
“You really do. Your troupe voted to stay until Christmas.”
“But the vote hasn’t even been taken yet. Gary just left...”
“We’ve been talking to the skaters over the last hour or so, and the majority want to stay. Your and Gary’s votes won’t change the result. So I’ll let you rest. You’re going to need it!”
Nell departed and Emilie lay in bed, blinking. It was a miracle. And Nell had said we. What could have changed Nathan’s mind?
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Emilie spotted Nathan in the stands beside Nell again. Nell was once more in charge of special effects.
Each time Emilie had a moment during the show—and sometimes even when she didn’t have a moment—she looked through the crack in the curtain at Nathan.
He was so handsome, it made her heart hurt. His boyish hair was tangled by the wind, and he always seemed to be smiling. And when she skated, she felt only his eyes on her.
The next afternoon, when they skated the “Prescott Inn” show again, as they called it, Nathan was in the seat next to Nell again. This time, he wasn’t taping them. He just watched.
For the past two days, he hadn’t dressed in his business suit and tie. He’d been in casual clothes—corduroy pants and a rugged coat, the one that he’d let her wear that day when they’d walked home from the rink together.
After the show, he mingled with people by the sides of the boards. The stands were even more packed than they had been the day of the dress rehearsal, but Emilie had the sense that many of the audience members weren’t local but were guests staying in the inn.
And the inn was busy. It certainly seemed to be more bustling these days. But Emilie, in her quest to avoid Nathan—and therefore the ache of eventual separation—went directly from show to her hotel room, each day.
By the week after the dress rehearsal, it was an entrenched habit. Fewer and fewer problems were brought to her by her troupe members. Gary was the de facto ice captain. They even called him Ice Dad.
Emilie just felt relief. She wasn’t responsible for anyone else any longer. Their drama didn’t bother or affect her.
Every evening, after the show was over and she’d returned to her hotel room and taken off her makeup and her costume, Nell knocked on the door.
Two days before Christmas, Nell came in again. “Hello, Emilie,” she said cheerfully.
She brought Emilie a tray with tea and sandwiches, the little, fancy kind that Emilie had grown to love.
Nell sat with Emilie while she
ate, and Emilie didn’t mind, because Nell never expected her to say much, just listen. And that was fine with Emilie.
Amid Nell’s chatty news—and it was never news about the skaters, which Emilie appreciated—she always dropped a tidbit or two about what Nathan was up to.
“So, today he asked me to visit each of the children across the hall and ask them what they wanted from Santa. Jason still doesn’t think that Santa will find him, which just makes Nathan more determined to surprise him.”
Emilie put down her fancy teacup. “Nathan is playing Santa?”
“Oh, yes, Emilie.” Nell nodded, wide-eyed. “He’s such a different person—you can’t imagine.”
“But isn’t he going to lose the inn?”
“Well, maybe, but is that a good reason to skip Christmas?”
“I should say so,” Emilie murmured, sipping her tea. Each day was a different blend. Today was herbal—spicy cinnamon, in honor of the coming holiday.
“Christmas should never be skipped.” Nell shook her head vehemently. “I’m surprised at you,” she chided.
“I’m just tired. I’m telling you honestly how I feel.” Emilie warmed her hand over the teapot. “How is Nathan?”
“He made the tea for you. Would you like to see him?”
A lump grew in Emilie’s throat. Nathan always had gone up on deck for tea with her on the ship, after her shows at the ice studio.
“Has he been making the tea for me every night?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“Why is he being so good to me when I’m not being good to anybody right now?”
“He loves you,” Nell said simply. “And who says you always have to be the one who takes care of everybody else? Maybe it’s okay sometimes for people to take care of you. And, maybe it’s okay to take care of yourself when you need to, don’t you think?”
“Is that what Nathan says?”
But Nell just smiled and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after the show?”
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. The last performance.” They were performing the traditional show.
“Yes, I know that. Will you be there?”
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