It didn’t faze her in the least—she was used to seeing her image publicly projected. That was part of show business. Emilie took a seat at Gary’s table and prepared to watch the news segment.
As Emilie had expected, two hours of footage and interviews had been pared to a fast-paced and emotional two-minute feature.
What hadn’t been snipped away were Emilie’s descriptions of life on the ship and an honest portrayal by Katya about the terror of evacuating a sinking ship, and then, with Gary, the following realization of being homeless, with personal items lost forever.
The segment also worked as a fantastic commercial for Prescott Inn. Nell had done a wonderful job bringing the inn’s history to life and emphasizing the caring attitude of the Prescott family and the unique attributes of their mountain inn.
And then there were artistically shot snippets of the cast dancing in the parade, as well as some quick shots of jumps and spins and tricks that they’d done on the ice, all filmed on the workable half of the rink, but filmed in such a way that it didn’t show off the rink’s flaws.
Nathan’s interview had been reduced to two or three short sentences, one of them narrated by Janet rather than spoken by him. It was an effective ending to the piece, though. Nathan’s deep voice and comforting, stoic presence gave the whole piece gravitas and thus a comforting ending and call to action.
The show cut to commercial. Cheers broke out from the inn kids, who’d been excited each time a glimpse of their faces had appeared in the piece, mostly during the shots of the parade in the lobby. Even Prescott, the inn cat, had made a short appearance.
The lights went on. The dining room waitress approached Emilie.
“Would you like some fresh gingerbread and whipped cream, Emilie?”
It looked and smelled delicious. Emilie remembered how Nathan had loved gingerbread, especially in the weeks before Christmas. “No, thank you. Perhaps you should offer some to Mr. Prescott?”
“Oh, he’s already left.”
Emilie jumped to her feet. She’d planned to stop him on his way out. “Nathan!” She strode after him, but with his long legs pumping, she didn’t catch up to him until he was almost at the front door.
“Nathan, wait!”
He finally stopped. He wore a heavy black wool overcoat over his suit. On his feet, he wore wet-weather boots, rubber and leather, which made him look like he was a true New Englander. He was pulling on his gloves as he turned to her. A mask of wariness showed in his tired green eyes.
“What’s wrong, Emilie?”
She put her hand to her chest, catching her breath. She’d been hurt yesterday afternoon at the way he’d treated her. He’d brusquely sent her away. He’d deliberately kept facts about himself from her. He’d delegated and deflected her issues back to Nell.
Now he was trying to do it again. She wouldn’t let him get away with it anymore.
“Yes?” he asked.
She shifted on her feet, suddenly not sure how to proceed. She wasn’t used to confronting people.
“The segment came out well,” he said, in that exasperatingly formal voice. “You did a good job. Thank you.” He turned again for the door.
She touched his arm. “Wait!” She had to put aside her hurt. This wasn’t about their past. It was about her and her skaters’ futures. The rink still wasn’t ready.
“Nathan, we only have four days until the dress rehearsal.” She swallowed, because his eyes had glazed over. He wasn’t interested in a personal appeal.
She would try to be formal, then, like him. “I’d like to schedule a meeting with you,” she announced.
“A meeting with me?” He blinked. “Shouldn’t you be discussing this with Nell?”
“I have been meeting regularly with Nell, but...she doesn’t have the clearance to make certain decisions.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And what decisions would those be?”
Don’t get upset. Be professional, but proceed with firmness...
She took a breath and smiled courteously. “The team needs help sectioning off the far end of the rink. My production company is sending us curtains and some standard props. But we need to assign two strong workers with ladders to hook everything up.”
“You have five fit young men,” Nathan remarked. “If you want to borrow our ladders, then have Nell show you to the maintenance hut.”
“I can’t risk injuring the skaters,” she said as calmly as she could. “Nell mentioned that you have maintenance workers who could be temporarily reassigned.”
“My maintenance workers are Guy and Frank. Guy is the full-time maintenance manager. You can have Guy—unless, of course, we have a guest emergency and need him back at the inn.”
“Well, okay.” Emilie put her hair behind her ear. This was a start. “May we have Frank, too? We need two people, and he’s been accommodating to us.” Unlike you.
“No, I can’t spare Frank.” Nathan crossed his arms. “He’s our sole remaining bellhop. He greets everyone who comes to the door. I need him at his post.”
“It should only take an hour or two if we do it off-hours.”
He thought for a moment. “Okay. That will work.”
“So we’re agreed?” She hid her shock.
“Yes.” He gazed down at her with those veiled green eyes. “Are we set now, Emilie? Because I have to go.”
“Wait!”
He rose his brows as if to say, There’s more?
And there was. She did need more from him. And she was finding it was more important to her than a functioning ice rink.
She needed Nathan’s support. This really was a joint project, and there were many details to oversee. Yes, Nell was a fine partner, but Nathan... Well, she couldn’t stand that he had isolated himself from them—from her. It was hard that they had once loved each other, but she could live with that. What she couldn’t stand was that he was so remote from her.
How to reach him?
She thought back to the interview last night. Something she’d noticed that had stood out for her and she hadn’t been sure why...
“I’d like to schedule time with you to talk about Jason,” she said.
“Jason?” He turned to her suddenly. She’d hit the jackpot. He was immediately alert and concerned. “Is everything okay with him?”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “He hangs around the rink with us every day, and that’s what I’d like to discuss with you.” She blew on her hands. It was blasted chilly in this vestibule.
“Yes.” Nathan nodded. “I’ll have Martha call you and schedule something tomorrow morning.”
“I’m sorry, Nathan. I skate during the day. Dinner is more convenient for me.”
His brows rose. “You want to have dinner with me? Why?”
“Well, it isn’t your scintillating conversation, trust me.”
He didn’t find her humor amusing. “Is there something I should be worried about? Is Jason okay?”
“For now, yes. But I have concerns.” She did her best to smile. “Shall we meet at your place, or mine?” She turned and gestured toward the dining room, her feeble attempt at humor again.
But the dining room had all her troupe inside. And Nell. And a whole bunch of kids and parents and guests who were full of curiosity about who Nathan was, given the mini documentary they’d just watched about him. From Nathan’s expression, she guessed that the attention didn’t appeal to him.
“We’ll meet at the diner in town,” Nathan decided.
“That place beside the post office?” Emilie nodded. “I know where that is. It’s where I found the technician to fix our ice surface.”
* * *
NATHAN DID SOME fast thinking. If he and Emilie met at the diner, then all eyes would be upon them. And though he rarely patronized the diner anymore—not since the inn’s restauran
t was up and running—it had apparently become more Emilie’s turf than his these days.
“We’ll eat at my place,” he said reluctantly. “Tomorrow night.”
“That sounds wonderful.” She nodded at him. “Pick me up at seven, please.”
That sounded intimate to him, like a date. It wasn’t the vibe he wanted to give Emilie, at all. He was trying to remain disassociated from her.
“I no longer have transportation to come pick you up,” he reminded her, going on the offensive again. “I’ve loaned it out to you, remember?”
“But I thought you had access to a second car?”
“A junker. It finally died. I gave it to Frank for the parts.”
“Oh,” Emilie said with a small voice. “Then how are you getting to work?”
“Frank picks me up on his way in. Or Nell does.”
“Hmm. Well, in that case, why don’t you drive us both in your Jeep? I’ll loan it back to you for one night.”
“That’s very generous of you, Emilie,” he said, sarcasm intended. “But no need, I’ll have Frank drive me home after work, and I’ll cook.”
“Well, I tried to please.” She shot a smile at him. “As for my part, Nathan, I’ll bring dessert over from the inn. Something you like. Gingerbread, or chocolate torte, maybe? Claude promised me he’d make me his special chocolate torte whenever I wanted it.”
Claude—Nathan’s chef. But he seemed to be getting awfully close to the skaters.
Nathan groaned. “You’re going to bankrupt me, Emilie, do you know that? And then where will we both be?”
But she just laughed it off as a joke. She didn’t really believe him. She had no idea that he was that close to losing everything he’d sacrificed so much for.
He absolutely couldn’t get close to her. It had ended badly once before, and it would be even worse this time.
But he did want to find out what was going on with Jason. And if she had information he needed, then he had to risk an intimate meal with her.
But he definitely would stay on his guard. Saving the inn was his first priority.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Nathan tortured himself by looking out of his office window, into the lobby below, watching Emilie as she ran back and forth, opening up special-delivery packages that contained Christmas-themed skating costumes—Elf, Mrs. Claus and Ice Princess.
She wore her formfitting practice clothes—black ballet leggings with a light gauzy skirt tied at the waist to give her the look of a slim ballerina. She was beautiful. Her hair was tied up in a casual bun, showing her long, slender neck and the tight scoop-necked top she wore.
He swallowed. She was always in motion, gracefully busy, it seemed. Her cheeks were flushed and wisps of hair floated around her pretty face.
She was like a butterfly who drew people closer. He noticed that Frank didn’t immediately leave after he’d given her the packages. Then he’d started carting all the boxes away—clearly, she’d convinced him to help her load the boxes into the Jeep.
And just how long had he himself been standing here watching her?
Nathan stood and drew the blinds.
How was he going to survive dinner with her tonight? In his home. He never should have let himself be maneuvered into hosting her. Nathan rarely had meals with other people anymore. He usually ate at the inn, alone in his office while he did paperwork. He’d left the inn early last night, but only because he’d needed to get away from Emilie. Just being in the same room with her was torture.
But the meeting was set now. Just keep it focused on Jason. He agreed with Emilie; something was obviously wrong there...
Nathan shook off his worry. It was more productive to focus on the details of the meal.
He knew exactly what she liked to eat. He’d shared three meals per day with her on ship for a year. He remembered Emilie’s tastes. She’d remembered his—gingerbread and chocolate torte. Those kinds of details, to him, had been more important than whether or not she knew he had a niece named Nell and a sister who lived in California and a rotten childhood where the only good thing had been living at his grandfather’s inn.
He wondered what she really wanted to talk about. Was Jason just an excuse? Probably she wanted him to invest money in the rink, he guessed. Well, he would be on his guard—there would be no charming him. Not like she was charming poor Frank right now.
From his back window, Nathan could see the Jeep wind up the slope, driven by Emilie. A few minutes later, Guy’s truck followed, chugging uphill.
He told himself he was watching only to make sure that Frank hadn’t hopped into the passenger seat, ostensibly to help her.
Putting his hands to his head, Nathan slumped at his desk. But he perked up at a text message from Martha:
FYI—our phones have been ringing all day! So many reservations coming in after last night’s news segment! Didn’t want to interrupt you with a phone call, but knew you’d be excited by the news...
Wow. Nathan sat up. This was excellent news.
He left his office and trotted downstairs to check the numbers in real time.
When he got to the lobby desk, Martha put her hand over the phone receiver and waved him over, an urgent look on her face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nell called just a moment ago. There’s been an incident up at the skating rink and she needs you to call her when you get the chance.”
“What kind of incident?”
“One of the skaters fell and was taken to the medical clinic.”
His heart beat erratically. “Is it Emilie?”
“No.” Martha gave him a strange look. “It’s Gary.” She sighed. “The cute one. He’s so nice. Apparently he’s not seriously injured, except, well, he got two huge splinters in the palm of his hand from when he fell against the old wooden railing. Emilie and Nell are handling it. They took him to the medical clinic for treatment.”
“Wait. They took him to the medical clinic for splinters?”
“They’re large, sir. And since he is a pairs skater, he needs his hands to lift his partner and skate with her in tandem.”
Right. He knew that. Nathan supposed he could concede splinters would be an issue for a skater, and that medical treatment was warranted.
This is more stress for Emilie, he thought.
He remembered when he’d sat with her once after she’d twisted her ankle. He remembered how upset she’d been. His heart had gone out to her, and he’d fallen a little more in love with her that day.
That night, he’d kissed her. Up on the top deck by the hot tubs, when the sky had been filled with stars and the only sounds had been the tranquil sea and the whispering conversation that he and Emilie had shared.
He’d sacrificed a lot to bring back Prescott Inn. He’d sacrificed her.
So he’d best keep on his toes tonight. Or he’d lose Emilie...and the inn.
CHAPTER NINE
EXHAUSTED, EMILIE KEYED open her hotel room door after a long afternoon at the local medical center, and then flung herself on her bed.
“Emilie?” Julie knocked on the door and then poked her head inside. “How’s Gary?”
“He says he’s okay,” Emilie said, rolling over on the mattress. “But honestly, we’ll need to change the routines so he’s not partnering with anyone for a while.”
“Okay,” Julie said, “we’ll figure it out.” Without asking, she headed inside Emilie’s bathroom. “Where’s the community hair iron? Rosie said she doesn’t have it.”
“It’s on the counter. But take it with you, because I have a call to make.”
“I don’t want to go back to the room because Katya is in there crying again. I’ll use your bathroom.” She shut the door behind her.
Emilie sighed and dialed her boss’s number. She wanted to update Lynn about Gary’s ac
cident. She would have to go see Katya, it seemed, when she was finished with that call.
Lynn Bladewell picked up on the second ring. “Emilie! I was just going to ring you. It’s important.”
“Okay.” Emilie lowered her voice to keep it confidential.
“First, how are things?” Lynn asked.
“Good! We’re preparing for the dress rehearsal this weekend. We’ve modified the ship’s Christmas show to fit a bigger rink, and it’s looking great. We did have a slight accident today, however. Gary injured his hand, so he won’t be able to partner. But I’ve already started reblocking the choreography, and it’ll be fine.”
“Oh. Well, seems like you’ve got it handled. Is Gary all right?”
“Yes, and we took him to a local medical center just to be sure.” Emilie paused. “I’m having dinner with Nathan Prescott tonight. The professional appearance of the rink is one of my agenda items.”
“That’s related to why I was going to call you. We have news, Emilie.”
“Oh?”
“Donnie has been reviewing the Prescott Inn project, and he has concerns about its short-term nature. I’m under a lot of pressure on my end to get Mr. Prescott to extend your contract.”
Emilie felt a chill pass through her.
“Donnie says that without Mr. Prescott picking up the option to purchase more shows through January and possibly February, he’ll have to consider the venture a failure. As such, I’m counting on you to do a fantastic job for us this weekend. It’s critical for us. And for you.”
Emilie swallowed. Pressure, much?
“So yes,” Lynn continued, “please do expand your Christmas program to cover the full ice surface. And for the second program we discussed? Plan on something...spectacular.”
Spectacular? She hadn’t even gotten a solid idea for the theme yet!
“Really pull out the stops,” Lynn said.
“Do I get a budget?” Emilie asked.
Lynn laughed.
Of course. Nobody was willing to give her a budget, it seemed.
Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 12
