And then, on the anniversary of the first day that they’d met, he’d arranged a dinner for them at the fancy French restaurant on the ship. She’d dressed in her best formal gown and strappy sandals. Her roommate had helped her put up her hair. Like Cinderella, the members of her troupe had helped with her makeup. A borrowed shawl. A festive purse...
Nathan was going to ask her to marry him. Everyone said so.
Dinner had been lovely. A bottle of champagne had been popped open. Nathan’s eyes had been so bright. His smile was infectious. A lock of dark hair had curled over his forehead, and he’d smiled with that dimple in his cheek. She was head over heels in love with him. Not the kind of love that burned out quickly, but a love that really felt like it could last a lifetime.
He did have an engagement ring for her—a gorgeous one-carat solitaire. She had never held a more beautiful piece of jewelry. But the commitment and the happiness it symbolized was the most important thing.
And then, he’d ruined everything.
Instead of bending to one knee and expressing his undying love for her, promising to be with her always, Nathan Prescott had suddenly started talking about an inn in New Hampshire.
“I’m buying it, Emilie,” he’d said with excitement in his voice. “I’ve been waiting to tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. We can move up there as soon as your contract is finished next month.”
Her mouth had dropped open in shock. New Hampshire? An inn? Where had this come from?
But Nathan hadn’t seemed to notice her distress. “You and I can work to bring back my grandfather’s inn to what it once was. I know you’ll love it up there.”
“But I’m a show skater, Nathan,” she’d tried to explain. “I work here, out of Florida, on cruise ships. And I just got promoted.”
“Wait, what are you saying?”
“That I’m renewing my contract in a month,” she said patiently. “You know this.”
Frankly, she’d felt blindsided by this inn thing, and she was fighting tears. Just weeks ago, they’d talked about maybe finding a condo together locally. “What about us renting a place down here and me skating and you working for the cruise line? Like we discussed?”
“Emilie,” he’d said, his voice taking on a tone as if he was trying to be patient with her, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It just came up, and I had to act fast. It’s what I’ve always wanted. What I’ve really wanted.” He’d looked at her quizzically. “I thought I told you about my dreams for the inn.”
“No, you didn’t.” Her throat felt raw, and it was becoming difficult to speak. “Not at all.”
“But I’ve talked to you about Prescott Inn. About my grandfather. And when I was a boy.”
But beyond the basics, he hadn’t told her much about his past. Not really.
In his defense, she hadn’t opened up about her childhood, either. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d preferred to live in their never-ending cruise ship present. It had seemed happier that way.
With sadness in his eyes, he’d nodded to the ring he’d bought her, resplendent in its jewel box. “Will you come with me to New Hampshire to build a life with me? Please, Emilie.” His voice had caught. “I love you.”
She loved him, too. But no—she couldn’t move to an inn in New Hampshire. “I need to stay here, Nathan,” she’d said helplessly. “I’m an ice captain now. I have responsibilities.”
His face had clouded over. “Is that what’s important to you?” he’d said shortly, in a tone that indicated he was dismissing the importance of the role to her.
She’d suddenly been angry. He wasn’t thinking of her point of view at all. “Nathan, it is important to me.” Her voice had cracked, embarrassingly, with the emotion that she’d felt.
He’d shaken his head. “But you can skate and choreograph in New Hampshire, Em. I can’t move the inn to the cruise ship—don’t you see our problem?”
That wasn’t their problem. “It’s not the fact of the position for me, Nathan. It’s the people that I’m helping here. I’m important to them.”
“On the cruise ship?” He’d outright laughed at her.
He’d shaken his head again. “Em, it’s a fantasy life out here on the ocean. I mean, it’s fun for the short term, but it’s like living in Neverland. We’re not building anything of lasting value that will provide for people in the future.”
“Of course we are!” she’d said. “My team is an all-new cast. We have an all-new show to implement.” And she was responsible for them. That was crucial to her.
That he didn’t see it as she did hurt. “This isn’t a fantasy,” she said. “This is us being real. How can you feel that way about the life we’ve been living together?” She’d dug her nails into her palms, trying so hard not to get too upset in the middle of the fancy restaurant.
He’d set his chin stubbornly. “The inn is important to me, and to a lot of other people, too. It’s a chance to build something in my community. To get back what my grandfather made. To grow roots.”
“Why haven’t I heard this before now?”
He shook his head sadly. “Maybe I was under your spell.”
That had hurt her cruelly.
There had been pain in his eyes, too. “I’m trying to say, Emilie—not very well, I realize—but please try to understand what I mean. Working at sea isn’t permanent, at least not to me. I need to go back home and make something concrete of my life.”
“I don’t agree with you that our life here can’t be permanent,” she’d said, equally stubborn. “After I finish performing, I hope to choreograph. That is a concrete goal. You’ve made a huge, wrong assumption about me. It’s as if you’ve never even met me before.”
“So, that’s what you want to do in your future?” he’d asked, looking miserable. “Choreograph cruise ship shows?”
“Yes, Nathan.”
“Can you at least come and spend a year with me and see how you like it?”
“I can’t.” Wasn’t he hearing her? “I just got promoted. People are counting on me. I can’t leave them.”
“They’ll be fine without you.”
“No, they won’t.” Her voice was rising.
“So, when does it end?”
“When everyone is happy and taken care of.”
His jaw had hardened. A subtle movement, but it was there. He was impatient with her.
And it had hurt. Because he was belittling her and discounting her needs.
“You care more about your inn than you care about us,” she realized.
He’d stared at her, but Emilie knew that it was true.
And suddenly, the bubble had popped. There was such a fundamental difference in what they each wanted, and there was no talking this out.
She’d gotten up from the table. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears then. Still, she felt that as much as it hurt, she was doing the right thing, that she was saving them both from making a terrible mistake.
“I’m staying here, Nathan,” she’d said softly. “If you realize that our relationship is as important as your inn is, then you know where to find me.”
She’d turned and walked away.
He hadn’t followed her. At first she’d felt numb, maybe from shock. But the next day, he’d packed his things and left the ship for good. She’d never heard from him again. He’d never called her. She’d never seen him again.
Until just minutes ago, when she’d stood in this cold, unfeeling inn and gazed up at him in his remote conference room so far removed from them all.
Emilie stood in the lobby bathroom and ran hot water in the sink. The creaky, groaning pipes and the antique faucet handles reminded her that she was in the country—his country—so far from her old life on the cruise ship.
But that ship had sunk, and now she was forced to deal with Nathan again.
Without glancing at herself in the mirror, she moistened a paper towel and pressed it to her cheeks. With the warmth on her skin, she felt a little comforted.
It wasn’t wise to cry over him anymore. It wasn’t good to constantly revisit the past. Home was far away now. She was at his inn, in his element, at least until Christmas. She needed to put the past hurts behind her and move forward with her own agenda, staying out of his way as he hopefully stayed out of hers.
She had to think of her troupe and their well-being. They were her responsibility. And surely they were as uncertain and unsure of themselves in this new element as she was.
With that strategy, she could make the great shows that Lynn expected of her.
Resolved, Emilie strode back to the lobby.
The members of her troupe milled about. Rosie, Julie and Lynette wore tight, fashionable, brightly colored clothing that they’d bought in Miami. They looked like exotic birds who’d flown into a foreign country.
Katya wore a fur-trimmed hood. Somehow, she’d also made a new friend—a large gray tabby who dozed atop Katya’s lap in a spot in the sun, atop the finest of the lobby chairs. Beside Katya was a decorated Christmas tree with a star on top. At least there was a bit of Christmas spirit to cling to.
Gary finished bringing in all their bags, along with the bellhop—Frank—who’d loaded the cases atop his rolling brass cart. Her troupe’s mood was festive, surprisingly, but then again, from their point of view, why wouldn’t they be excited?
They were employed. They all had a future now, and she was happy for them. They seemed upbeat. Tired of traveling, maybe, but curious about the new surroundings.
Out the window, Emilie noticed the beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. She should reassess her view of the inn as “cold.” It was really a happy winter wonderland.
Though there was no snow at the inn. Not quite yet.
But it would come. Her first white Christmas. She gazed at the Christmas tree and swallowed. She could only pray that Nathan didn’t make this holiday too hard for her.
Why had he offered them this contract? Perhaps he felt guilt or regret for the way he’d treated her, and this was his way of helping her out after seeing the news about the ship.
Or, perhaps he’d come to appreciate her point of view.
If she chose the hopeful way of looking at things, this is what she would believe.
But she couldn’t be his. Her future was with her skating company. She would advocate for her troupe’s well-being in this new assignment, as she always did.
Whatever was to come with Nathan down the road, she would handle. With her chin up. Without drama.
“There you are, Emilie!” Nell bustled over, smiling, holding a stack of room keys. “You’ve been traveling so long—you must be tired. Would you like to see your rooms now?”
“Yes, please.” Emilie focused her mind on the tasks at hand. First, she would get her team settled and make sure they had some lunch. Next, she would inspect the ice surface. She planned to take about ten days to rework the show and practice with the troupe. Then they would perform a formal dress rehearsal, followed by an opening night. After that, they would skate one performance per day—alternating between two shows—for a successful run until Christmas.
“Great. I’ve arranged six rooms for you and your team.” Nell motioned for Frank to follow them with his cart piled high with their luggage. “Some of your skaters will be doubled up, so I’ll leave you to decide the specific room assignments.”
“That’s fine.” Emilie would keep roughly the same room assignments they’d had on the ship.
As ice captain, she would receive her own room. She’d double up eight of the skaters by sex and give the sixth room to Gary since he had seniority among the male skaters and often served as her assistant.
Emilie told the team she’d be back for them in a moment, and then she, Nell and Frank set off down a hallway that led behind the stone fireplace.
“Your rooms are in the west hallway, all in a line,” Nell continued as she fell into step beside Emilie. Frank and the cart with its squeaky wheels fell to the rear. “I have ten keys, one for each of you, but I’ll give them to you to dole out.”
“Perfect.”
Nell turned down another short hallway and then opened the first door. The room was spacious, if a bit drafty and cold. But that might just be Emilie, used to tropical weather.
“I’ll bring you an extra blanket,” Nell apologized, shivering herself.
“Thank you.” Emilie looked on the bright side. “It’s nice to have windows.”
There were no windows in her ship’s cabin, not even a porthole, and it had been very dark, indeed.
But before Emilie signed off on the arrangement, she checked that there were enough towels and toiletries in the bathrooms. The offering of shampoo, conditioner and soap products was a nice touch for the skaters, as many had lost most of their personal items in the shipwreck.
“Lynn—my boss—mentioned that there’s also a gym on-site we can use?” Emilie asked.
“Yes. It’s here in the west wing, but down one floor. The inn is situated on a slope, you see, so even though your rooms are at lobby level, there’s a ground floor below us.”
“And the dining room—where is that?”
Nell hesitated. “On the ground floor, too.”
“Is there a problem?” Emilie asked, coming to understand Nell’s hesitations as an indication of discomfort.
“No,” Nell confessed. “It’s just that I thought it was a bit early for lunch. But never mind—we’ll get that straightened out with the staff.”
“We have some special dietary requirements,” Emilie said. “Two of my skaters are gluten-free. We have one paleo eater and one vegan. I take it that can be arranged?”
“Um...” Nell’s face went pink. “I’ll have to ask...”
“Surely you have guests with such dietary restrictions? We should talk to the chef about it.”
“Yes. Of course.” Nell nodded swiftly. She swallowed. “Our kitchen is modern, and our staff trained to handle all types of food allergies.”
“Great. Then I’ll send my team downstairs now.”
Nell hesitated again. “I’ll go with you.”
“Actually, I’d like you to take me to see the ice surface.” Emilie wanted to check the size of the rink to see how much she needed to rework the Christmas show. Then, there would be calls to Lynn to arrange for any new scenery or props or reconfigured music.
“Um,” Nell stammered, “Actually, I thought we could do that tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” Emilie said sweetly. “Tomorrow we have to start practicing, first thing. We only have eleven days until opening night. The team will be practicing daily—it’s my top priority.”
Nell’s face blanched and Emilie started getting concerned.
“If you’re busy right now,” Emilie hastened to say, “I’ll take the walk over by myself.”
“That isn’t possible,” Nell blurted.
“Why? Just set me on the path, and I’ll head on over.”
“No.” Nell shook her head. “I’d rather drive you. It’s a half mile away, uphill. And it’s cold outside.” She eyed Emilie’s thin jacket.
A half mile uphill was longer to walk than she’d expected. “Is there a shuttle bus available?” Emilie asked. “I don’t have a car at my disposal.”
Nell shook her head again, sheepishly. “I’m sorry. We had a mini-bus last winter, but my—but Mr. Prescott had to cut it.” She blanched again and put her hand briefly to her mouth. “I mean, Mr. Prescott decided to discontinue the shuttle because it didn’t get much use, frankly. Guests seem to pre
fer to walk. It’s quite pleasant most of the time.”
Nell was sugarcoating things for her boss. Nathan was cost cutting. Emilie knew all about that from their time on the cruise ship. She clenched her jaw.
“Well,” Emilie said, willing herself to stay calm, “how exactly does Mr. Prescott plan for us to get ten people back and forth from the skating rink to the inn every day with all our bags of equipment?”
Nell looked frightened.
“He didn’t think about that, did he?” Emilie remarked.
Nell shook her head.
“Could you arrange to rent us a van?”
“Um...”
Emilie sighed. “I really would like to speak with Mr. Prescott, please.” There was no circumventing it. She clearly needed to advocate for her troupe directly with Nathan.
“But he’d rather I be your point person,” Nell admitted.
“Because he’s avoiding me?”
“Oh, no,” Nell said quickly. “It’s just that it was my idea for you to come here, and as such, it’s my project to manage.”
Confirming that Nathan had told Nell nothing about his past with Emilie. And now Emilie also knew that Nathan hadn’t, in fact, lured her here because he had lingering feelings for her. That Emilie and her troupe were here at all was a quirk of Christmas fate, as it were.
And apparently she’d had no lasting effect on his values. He was taking the side of money, “the concrete and tangible.” The human factor—emotional relationships—just didn’t seem to be as important to him.
Well, Emilie had news for him, he was about to find out how important those things were to her. The comfort and safety of her performers were her top concern.
Emilie stood. “Let’s take a drive to see the ice rink, please. Just you and I.” She saw Nell’s reluctant expression and added, “I really must insist.”
“Okay,” Nell said, worrying her lip. “Um, we’ll take my car. Just let me go to my office to pick up my coat and keys, okay?”
Back in the lobby, Emilie quickly passed out the room keys to her team. A front desk clerk—Martha, whom Emilie immediately liked—gave the skaters directions to the on-site restaurant, with instructions to ask the waitress to charge their meals to their rooms.
Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 6
