Christmas at Prescott Inn

by Cathryn Parry

  “So, we have to drive in a Jeep to get to work to the outdoor rink every day,” Emilie informed her skaters first. “That’ll be different for us.”

  “What will be the same?” Lynette asked. She was the youngest of the troupe, at eighteen. “Will we interact with guests in the morning? I loved the parades we had on the ship. It really promoted a nice spirit, particularly during the holidays.”

  Parades. An interesting idea. On board the ship, the skaters, along with the musicians and dancers, had been responsible for leading a parade down “Main Street,” which was really the main shopping concourse, three times per week. Kids loved it. Vacationers of all ages joined in, too.

  “Sure, of course we’ll have parades,” Emilie said, eying Jason, who’d seemed to perk up at the mention of parades. “We’re going to do everything fun that we did on the ship. We’re going to act just like cruise ship show skaters, because that’s who we are.”

  “And the sooner we’ll be back on board when they have another opening for us,” Rosie chimed in.

  “Sure,” Emilie agreed.

  “I’ve called my parents,” Curtis announced. “They said they’re going to book a stay at the inn during the week of Christmas.”

  “That’s great,” Emilie said. Nathan should be happy to hear of another room being booked.

  “There don’t seem to be too many guests staying here, Emilie,” Gary remarked.

  “Well, we’re going to try and change that. I’ll talk with Nell. Maybe we can get a local reporter in here, drum up some more excitement.”

  “We should perform something for the reporter. And try to get a big audience to make a good impression on the media.” Julie shifted on the bed, crossing her stockinged feet beneath her.

  “Good idea.” Emilie nodded. They were all professionals. And she could use her contacts with the media she’d talked to down in Miami. A few of the national-based and New York–based shows had picked her interview up, too. Maybe she could leverage that into someone from the Boston stations driving up here?

  Curtis cut into her thoughts. “So...we’re doing the same show as we performed on the ship, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, plus one other that the production company has requested.”

  “Another original show?”

  “It won’t be completely original, don’t worry. Pieces of it will come from our old performances, just because of the time constraint. I’ll wait and find out what costumes get delivered. And the sets, too. But we’ll lay out some ideas and get oriented to the new rink and see how it goes.”

  “How big is the rink?” Gary asked.

  Emilie hesitated. If her plan worked and she drummed up interest for the shows—sold lots of tickets and hopefully rooms—then Nathan would have to give her what she wanted. She definitely would insist on the improved, professionally groomed ice surface, but what about the size? Half a rink seemed so lame. If she used the entire ice surface, she could make a really spectacular program. Something to impress Lynn and Donnie.

  “That might change, too, depending on how big an audience we can attract.”

  Yes, with the whole rink, she could choreograph something truly special. Without the dips and waves of the cruise ship as it sailed, the program could be utterly fantastic.

  “I can help you,” Jason piped up. “The other kids here and my friends at school are all excited about your show. I can get them to come.”

  “That would be great, Jason! How many other kids live here?”

  “Um.” Jason counted on his fingers. “Five, besides me.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Big kids.”

  “Teens?”

  Jason shook his head.

  Middle schoolers, she assumed. A good age for her type of show. Maybe she could set aside some tickets to give away; she didn’t think the families here had much money. Audiences weren’t always about selling tickets.

  “Well, Jason, welcome to the team! You can help me talk to the other kids when they get home from school, okay? And Nell, too. Now, who has my phone? I need Nell’s number.” Nell should be down here with them to help plan their caper.

  “What are we going to do?” Gary asked.

  “We,” Emilie replied, “are going to start by spreading Christmas cheer among the patrons of Prescott Inn.”

  Just wait until Nathan found out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, Nathan headed into town to run some errands.

  He dropped off a copy of the skaters’ contract with Rob, and then showed him the progress he’d been able to make with the inn’s weekly expenses. To Nathan’s surprise, Rob was optimistic about the skaters. But Nathan sensed that the results from next week’s expense report would tell the tale. Between now and then, Nell needed a big push on publicity to raise the inn’s bookings—and therefore revenues—for the Christmas season, or else they were all in trouble.

  The rattletrap car that Nathan drove back to Prescott Inn belched smoke as he pulled into the parking lot, making him think longingly of his Jeep. Emilie had that, of course.

  Put her out of your mind, he told himself. Continue with the plan.

  He pulled into a space by the valet parking stand and waited for Frank.

  Frank rushed over, poking his head inside the rattletrap’s open window.

  “Oh! It’s you, Mr. Prescott!” Frank looked confused. “Where is your Jeep?”

  “The skaters are using it this month, Frank.”

  “Okay.” The other man nodded. He eyed Nathan’s ride. “That’s a sweet twenty-year-old Monte Carlo you’re driving, isn’t it, sir?”

  Sweet? The battered sedan had once belonged to his late father. “Yes,” Nathan answered curtly, and then handed Frank the keys.

  The only reason Nathan hadn’t sold the car two years earlier was that Nell had been using it. When she’d bought her own car last month—a used Honda—he’d tried to sell the Monte Carlo, but maybe because it needed extensive body work, he hadn’t found a buyer yet. “Please park this for me, Frank.”

  “In your regular spot in the front?”

  “No.” Though the car was inspected by the State and deemed road worthy, it didn’t exactly give the appearance of “country luxury” he hoped to convey. “Put it far in the back, where customers can’t see it.”

  “Right, Mr. Prescott.” Frank nodded solemnly.

  Nathan got out of the car and stretched. He couldn’t help asking, “Are the skaters practicing up at the ice rink?”

  “No, sir.”

  Nathan’s neck tightened. He hoped that Emilie and her troupe weren’t hanging around the lobby. Or worse, congregated in a loud group, laughing at a table in the restaurant.

  “Nell is with them today,” Frank added. Then he stepped inside the car, shut the door and backed out the Monte Carlo.

  Thoughtful, Nathan strode toward the curb. The Christmas lights over the entranceway twinkled brightly.

  He frowned. It was still daylight. He’d thought he’d asked Guy to keep the lights off during the daytime. The electrical costs added up...

  But before Nathan could head inside to find Guy, an SUV zoomed in front of him, cutting him off and making it impossible to take another step.

  Irritated, he brushed his sleeve and glanced up. It was his own Jeep that had nearly run him over.

  He walked over to the driver’s side, censorious words on his lips for Emilie.

  But it was Nell who was driving. His niece opened the door and hopped out. “Hi, Uncle Nathan,” she chirped.

  On tiptoe, she peered over him and called to Frank, who had stopped the Monte Carlo to see what she wanted.

  “Frank! Could you please help me bring the props inside? They’re in the back! This is a last-minute thing, and we’re really rushed!”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Lewis!�
� Frank shouted back. Abruptly, he parked the Monte Carlo and left it in the front loading lane beside the hotel. He hopped from the car and then rushed over to where Nathan and Nell stood beside Nathan’s Jeep.

  “Thank you, Frank,” Nell said, breathless. Her cheeks were pink. Nathan noticed that she’d put on red lipstick and smoky eye makeup that made her look like she was going someplace special.

  “What’s going on?” Nathan asked.

  “Like I said, it’s a last-minute initiative, otherwise I would’ve explained everything to you.”

  “I know I said you should take the initiative, but—”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle, it’s not costing you a penny.” With a mischievous twinkle, Nell went over to the rear of the Jeep and pulled out a bag from the back, and then tucked it under her arm and hurried after Frank, who was teetering under the awkward load of a yard-size plastic snowman.

  What the...?

  Before Nathan could decide what to think, a shiny black town car pulled into the unloading lane beside Nathan’s abandoned Monte Carlo. From the driver’s side of the sleek conveyance stepped Paul, the town’s limo driver and a friend of Nathan’s since high school.

  Paul tipped his cap to Nathan. He wore a black livery suit and his best professional demeanor. Paul often taxied travelers both to and from the regional airport in Manchester and the international airport hours away in Boston. There was also an Amtrak station in the state capital that he sometimes served.

  “Got two guests for you today, Nathan.” With a flourish, Paul opened the passenger door and held forth his arm to assist a woman out of the car. “This is Vera. She has a reservation at the inn.”

  Vera looked to be in her early eighties. Her hair was gathered in a distinguished silver bun, and she moved slowly with the aid of a cane. As she got out, she stood to her full height, sniffed the air and smiled at the gentleman who alighted onto the lane beside her.

  Paul hastened to the trunk of the town car to remove two large suitcases and then set them on the walkway beside the brass cart Frank used to bellhop.

  Except, Frank was inside the inn somewhere, helping Nell. Nathan cleared his throat. He wasn’t too big to do any task required of him at the inn. It was just that he was a little rusty. He hoped he did a good job...

  Paul ducked inside the car again and came out holding a plastic pet carrier, which he placed on the curb.

  “Fluffy!” Vera exclaimed. She smiled up at Nathan. “Young man, will you assist me with my cat, please.”

  “Ah, certainly.” Nathan silently blessed the decision they’d made to set aside a number of rooms as “pet rooms.” It seemed this strategy was paying off. None of their major competitors allowed pets.

  “Will you be checking in today?” he asked the couple, as Paul got back inside his black town car and zoomed out of the parking lot.

  “Yes. We are booked for three nights,” Vera told Nathan. “We’re looking forward to a quiet stay in the country.”

  Nathan nodded as he stacked their luggage onto Frank’s brass cart. Neither Vera nor her husband made a move to pick up Fluffy, so Nathan gingerly picked up the cat in its plastic crate.

  Oof. Fluffy was heavier than he looked.

  Vera inched her way forward up the ramp with short steps while her husband courteously held her elbow.

  “Will the sleigh ride be operational this week?” Vera asked Nathan, as Nathan put down Fluffy’s crate and tried to figure out how best to get the feline guest inside safely. He didn’t fit on the cart, not with the couple’s large pieces of luggage.

  “Ah...we need snow for the sleigh ride to be operational. But once it snows, yes, there will be rides later in the season,” Nathan answered. He figured that Guy would drive the sleigh. The horses came from the farm next door, as they always had.

  Vera and her husband had reached the double doors that led to the inn’s entrance. Frank still hadn’t returned to open them for the guests, so Nathan hefted up Fluffy’s crate and left the loaded baggage cart where it sat. He strode over and opened the lobby door for them.

  Loud noise drifted from inside the building—music and singing. Festive chaos, led by the skaters.

  Nathan’s heart sank. So much for Vera’s quiet week in the country, he thought.

  He cleared his throat again, deciding to stall the couple outside for a few moments. Maybe Emilie and her troupe would finish up and go away if he waited. “So, yes, as I was saying,” he repeated to Vera, covering for his delay, “as soon as there is a snowfall, then we will have sleigh rides. You can be sure of that.”

  “With jingle bells?” Vera asked.

  Nathan had seen the old bells on the hook in the barn. They still had them. “Yes, jingle bells will be present.”

  “And hot chocolate?”

  He smiled broadly. “We have a fully staffed kitchen, with hot chocolate and marshmallows.”

  “And a shuttle bus so we can shop in the craft shops in town?”

  His smile died. No, no shuttle bus. Vera and her husband were customers, though, who would presumably be purchasing meals in the restaurant each day, adding to his revenue. Nathan pasted a smile on his face and nodded to Vera. “We’ll arrange something so you can shop locally, yes.” Maybe he would ask Nell to offer space in the lobby to artisans and organize a crafts fair on the weekend.

  “Wonderful! We used to come up every year during this week in order to celebrate our wedding anniversary,” Vera confided in him. “But then the inn changed hands and the quality of service went down.”

  “We stopped coming altogether,” the husband interjected.

  “I assure you, the inn is under new management and our quality of service is excellent,” Nathan replied politely. “May I ask how you heard about us again?”

  Marketing research was always good. He wished Nell was here. Was she inside with the skaters?

  Whatever they were doing, they hadn’t stopped making a racket. Even standing outside the building, he clearly heard even louder music coming from the lobby. Then loud, enthusiastic clapping.

  “Why, we saw the ad, of course,” the lady remarked.

  Ad? Nathan hadn’t approved any expenditures for an ad. Newspaper ads could be quite expensive.

  “Which ad was this?” he asked nervously.

  “The great big billboard by the highway.” Vera rubbed her arms. “My, it’s getting cold. May we go inside, please?”

  “Yes. Certainly.” Nathan would deal with the question of the billboard later.

  Just then Frank came outside. Nathan had never been happier to see him. Being a bellhop was harder than it looked.

  “Mr. Prescott! Let me assist you with that!”

  “Oh, you’re a Prescott!” Vera exclaimed to Nathan.

  “One and the same.” Nathan tucked Fluffy under his arm like a football and then waved the couple through the doors ahead of him.

  The din of music was overpowering inside the lobby. Nathan cringed. Maybe the couple was hard of hearing. It appeared so, because neither of them seemed bothered by the commotion in the least.

  But then they rounded the corner and the surreal scene by the fireplace couldn’t be denied. Vera stopped in her tracks and put her gloved hand to her lips. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. “What is this?”

  Nathan had no choice but to stand by helplessly with them and watch the show in progress.

  And what a show.

  The ten cruise ship skaters were decked out in what Nathan remembered as their “shipboard” uniforms. Formfitting black pants on the women, the men in jeans. They all wore long-sleeved shirts with the skating logo on the front. Must be their Christmas outfits, Nathan thought, because the T-shirts had a red background with a sprig of holly worked into the logo design.

  Though the troupe wore sneakers instead of their usual skates, they danced and twirled and jumped in a care
fully coordinated routine. The snowman that Frank had carried in earlier was paraded between them as they danced around the tree. In the front, in a position of prominence, a petite skater was being lifted and twirled aloft by a big, muscular guy who looked to be her dance partner. A male freestyle skater stepped out and, with two powerful introductory steps, leaped into the air.

  Yeah, it was a quadruple toe loop jump. Nathan had learned enough about skating from Emilie to know what that was. It was also a skill that not too many guys in the world possessed.

  A flashing blur in the air, and then the man solidly landed on one foot.

  Cheers broke out from a group of assembled children.

  Nathan had no idea the skaters had such an audience. But there they were. A whole crowd of kids, more than lived in the inn. Nathan supposed they were local schoolchildren.

  Jason waved at Nathan, so he waved back. Jason’s gray tabby cat was perched in his lap. Nathan didn’t have the heart to do anything about that. Jason looked like he needed a friend, and if Prescott made him happy, then Nathan wouldn’t evict the little fur ball.

  Five other young kids were squeezed beside Jason on the same couch—two boys and three girls. These kids definitely lived in Nathan’s inn, though they seemed to be a few years older than Nathan’s little friend.

  And then Emilie walked past, doling out candy canes to the children in her audience, which they all too eagerly accepted from her.

  His heart lurched in his chest. Emilie had always been good with children. Back on the ship, the performers had danced in a parade down “Main Street.” Before Christmas, they’d happily passed out candy canes.

  Nathan swallowed the lump in his throat. Those had been good times.

  Don’t think about those days. Don’t think about Emilie. Tend to your customers.

  He turned back to the couple he’d helped inside. Luckily, they were smiling while they watched the skaters, who were now exiting the “stage,” taking their bows.