“Well, ironically, Jason was leaning against the railing with his cat, and Gary leaned over to help Jason. We were doing some off-ice practice, and Gary thought it would be dangerous for Jason.”
“Oh, no. Nell didn’t mention that. But I see where this story is going.”
“Yeah. The railing was rough, and Gary tripped over the cat and got splinters in his palms.”
“Ouch.”
“Gary will be okay,” Emilie said. “We brought him to the medical center as soon as it happened.”
Nathan dragged in a breath. “I’m glad to hear that, but still, I think we need to inspect and sand the railings.”
“If you’ll give me the name of a local carpenter, I’ll call and ask them to swap work in exchange for show tickets,” she offered.
“No, this is my issue. I’ll fix it.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile. “Just let us know when the carpenter is due to come, please.”
Nathan straightened his shoulders. “I’m the carpenter, Emilie.”
“You are?”
“Well, I’m an amateur carpenter, not a professional.” He smiled faintly. “My grandfather made sure I was able to do all the major repairs around the place. He wouldn’t be happy that I’ve neglected my duty.” He looked at her clearly. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”
“That’s... Thank you, Nathan.” She thought of the portrait of Philip Prescott that was in the lobby by the fireplace. “Your grandfather sounds like a great guy to have taught you those things.”
“He was. I miss him every day.”
“I bet he would like what we’re doing with his rink.” She glanced at Nathan. “It was his rink, right?”
“Yes. He built it for my grandmother, Ava, shortly after he married her. She liked to skate. He loved watching her glide over the ice.”
“That’s so romantic! I can imagine what the scene must have looked like back in those days.” Emilie got up and set out the dessert for him. “Martha was showing me old photos, but now I have a fuller understanding.” She set out the plates and forks, and cut Nathan a piece of gingerbread. “And I have to say, I loved the old-fashioned Zamboni they used.”
“Thank you.” He eyed the dessert gratefully. “And the Zamboni was more of an ice sweeper, as I remember.”
“Yes. It’s in the barn, actually.” She sat down and cut her own piece.
“You’ve been in the barn?” Nathan asked, curious.
“We were looking for the old spotlights.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “My production company considers my work here a test of my abilities. They’ve told me that my future hinges upon it. That’s why I’m taking so much care to put on a great show.”
“I didn’t know that,” he said softly.
“I’m under a lot of pressure,” she murmured. “This ice show has to be top quality. I feel like I need to keep my troupe working. You haven’t met them all individually yet, but most of them are young and they rely on me. And the kids—I’ve incorporated them into the show, too.”
“Emilie, your dreams are important to me. I want you to believe that.”
“They are?”
He gazed at her so steadily, nodding.
She put down her fork, suddenly touched. She felt as if they’d made a huge breakthrough in their relationship tonight. And it had all started over their shared concern for a little boy who needed a Christmas.
She glanced at the time on her phone. It was after nine o’clock. She should get back. She stood and helped Nathan clear the dirty dishes from the table and then place them in the dishwasher.
“When should I expect you tomorrow?” she asked Nathan.
“Sometime during the lunch hour. But there’s one more thing I need from you.” His eyes were twinkling.
“Me? What can I give you?”
“Every carpenter requires an assistant to carry his tools and help with the sanding. Jason might normally be an ideal candidate to help, but under the circumstances, you’ll do.” He gave her a wink.
She couldn’t help smiling back. This night had turned into a complete surprise. And an inspiration.
Little did he know, but she now had a surprise for Nathan, too.
When Emilie returned to the hotel, the first thing she did was to phone Lynn as she’d asked. She was so excited with her plans that she couldn’t sleep anyway. She knew Lynn was a night owl and wouldn’t mind the late call.
“First, Lynn,” she reported to her boss, “to answer your question, Prescott Inn is financially viable. They’ve been quite successful with bookings and reservations because of our promotion.”
“Thank you, Emilie. That’s helpful for us to know.”
“And second—I want you to know this especially—I have a great idea for the theme of our special show!”
A spectacular idea.
Emilie couldn’t wait to get started.
CHAPTER TEN
NATHAN STEPPED OUT of the inn, into the cold air, and rubbed his hands. The temperatures had dropped the night before, and a thin layer of frost covered the ground and the trees.
Still no snow yet, though.
He’d bundled up into a warm parka, scarf and hat. He’d brought his insulated leather work gloves and boots, plus a layer of long underwear under his corduroy pants.
He’d woken up looking forward to seeing Emilie. Last night had been, well, a revelation. He was actually looking forward to the task of fixing the rink’s boards with her. It seemed more appealing today than sitting inside, staring at a laptop spreadsheet whose numbers never seemed to line up correctly.
Tomorrow, he owed Rob a numbers report. But for now, he was giving himself a few hours’ reprieve with Emilie before he got back to business.
In the parking lot of Prescott Inn, Nell opened up the hatchback trunk of her Honda, and whistling, he dropped his toolbox inside, beside a pair of jumper cables and a shovel with a short handle. A person could never be too prepared this time of year.
He got into the passenger seat beside Nell. “Okay,” he said.
“I’m so excited you’re coming up to see the rink this morning.” Nell was beaming.
She put the car into gear, and they bumped along the narrow mountain road. She said nothing as she drove, just hummed a fast-temp Christmas tune.
“Are you excited for the show?” he asked, curious about what they were doing, as she turned the wheel and brought them into the rink parking lot.
“Oh, yes. And I’ve been talking it up when I go into the diner every morning. Everyone is doing their bit to contribute to the success of this venture, Uncle.”
“As long as they all show up and spend money in our restaurant now and then,” he teased.
“Spoken like a true Scrooge.” They both laughed before hopping out.
From Nell’s trunk, he grabbed his toolbox. Nell had positioned her car beside his own Jeep, which earlier Emilie had parked half on the parking lot, half on the frozen ground by the trail to the rink.
His breath forming clouds in the chilled air, he hunched his shoulders in his jacket and followed Nell. Over the short hill that led down to the rink, he heard chattering voices. And instrumental Christmas music—the kind that played in shopping malls.
They walked side by side down the path, him hauling his toolbox and sander.
When they got to the gate, she put her hand on his arm. “Wait here. I want to talk with Emilie first. I’ll come back and get you.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” But it was obvious from Nell’s twitching lips she was hiding a smile.
And then she stood on tiptoe and hugged him before she turned and dashed off.
She reminded him so much of his sister.
There were two benches before the gate to the rink. Nathan sat on one and looked around in wonder. Somebody h
ad put Christmas wreaths up on the gates, and the fir trees nearby were decorated with strings of white lights. A song played from the direction of the rink that he recognized. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” a real Christmas oldie that just served to remind Nathan of his grandfather. The music blared out over speakers that Nathan hadn’t even known they’d installed.
He stood and unlatched the gate just as Nell arrived.
“Where did the speakers come from?” he asked.
“They’re on loan. Emilie arranged for them from her company. Curtis installed them.”
“Is he an electrician?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” Nell laughed, twin red dots in her cheeks.
“What about the music? Do you have to pay royalty fees to use popular music at public performances?”
Nell laughed harder. “All that is taken care of by the production company. Relax,” she chided him. “You’re much too uptight.”
“You would be, too, if you carried the cares of other people on your back the way that I do.”
She took his hand and patted it. “Let’s go see Emilie, please.”
“Is that where the surprise is?”
Nell put her finger to her lips.
When they came into the clearing, he gaped at everything she’d done. Emilie was in the process of making his ugly, broken-down rink into a work of art. A winter wonderland.
Or maybe the North Pole.
Even more Christmas lights were strung in the spruce trees that bordered the rink. Glistening tinsel hung from the boughs. Around the boards of the rink, garlands of holly and mistletoe were strung.
While Christmas music played around him, he stared out at the ice. Before him, the skaters were practicing one of the numbers in their show, albeit not in costume. Despite standing in the subfreezing weather, he was instantly brought back to days on the ship, below decks in Emilie’s ice studio. A lone person sitting up high in the bleachers, just watching her while she practiced.
She was currently spinning at center ice, graceful arms extended even if wrapped up in a red woolen sweater, fingers covered with ivory-colored cashmere gloves. She skated gracefully, exactly as he’d remembered, and he had to admit it was especially nice to watch her on the bigger-size rink, because she could stretch her legs and work up speed as well as perform all kinds of graceful intricacies with her steps and glides.
The turns across the ice had names like mohawk, rocker, twizzle. And the jumps: Flip. Toe loop. Axel, of course—the one with the forward-facing takeoff.
She skated up to him now, out of breath, her eyes dancing. It must have been a solo she was finishing up, because the song changed, and the five men came out in a group this time.
Nathan turned to Emilie. “This does bring me back,” he couldn’t help saying.
“We have seven numbers in the first act of our Christmas show.” She smiled at him. “I’ve had to recut the length of the music, because everything needs to fit into a stricter timetable. I’ve also rechoreographed each number to fit the larger rink. It’s been so much fun, though.”
“Your solo was beautiful. It’s worth the price of admission alone.”
“Thank you! Will you be coming for the dress rehearsal? Oh, and before I forget, my boss and her boss have both booked reservations for the middle of next week.”
That surprised him. “Great. The more, the merrier.” But privately, he wondered about facing Lynn and her pressure to sell him more business. He still didn’t have clearance for that. And he had no answers for her probing questions.
Emilie squinted at him. “Should I have mentioned this earlier? My boss’s name is Lynn Bladewell, if you want to look up her reservation.”
“Yes, I know.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible. “She might have arranged for rooms already. I don’t look at the reservations individually.”
“Right. The front desk staff does that.” She glanced down at his toolbox. “Should we get started? I’ll give everyone a break for lunch.”
“That’s fine.” Relieved that the topic was over, Nathan put Lynn Bladewell out of his mind. Later he would come up with a plan for dealing with her.
He glanced over at her skaters. The ones who weren’t on the ice were all sitting on the first row of the bleachers, unlacing their skating boots. Emilie headed over to talk to them.
He motioned to Nell, who was lingering beside him. “Come with me.”
“Okay,” Nell said, “What are you going to do?”
“For now, I’m going to walk the property and note spots that have boards that need to be sanded.”
“Okay.” Nell walked beside him while the skaters gathered their things together on the other side of the rink. Nathan headed down the long side of the bleachers. With a clipboard, he made notes wherever he saw a spot where little kids or big skaters might get a sliver or otherwise get hurt.
“How many guests do you think will fit in the audience, Uncle Nathan?”
“Five hundred,” he said without missing a beat. He glanced to the end of the rink, now roped off with black curtains to create a makeshift backstage changing area for the skaters. “No, probably more like four hundred or three hundred due to the blocked-off end.”
“Did you ever attend a skating show here?”
“Sure, when I was young.” He got out a red marker from his shirt pocket, and made an x on a board that needed to be smoothed. “I’ve skated before an audience here, too.” He grinned at her. “My grandfather used to host an ice hockey game every year. Management versus hourly employees.”
“I would have liked to have seen that.” Nell sighed. “Tell me, did the inn sell tickets?”
“No. What we had—and remember, I was about ten years old back then—was an annual Christmas game, usually on Christmas Eve. My grandfather was a generous man. He roped the place off for employees only, plus whoever was staying at the inn that wanted to attend. We had hot chocolate, and people brought gingerbread and whipped cream, Christmas cookies, things like that. There were carolers. If there was snow, he gave sleigh rides, too.”
“It sounds really nice,” Nell said wistfully.
It had always been Nathan’s intention to do the same thing.
He dared to hope it was still possible. His weekly investors’ meeting was coming up in a few days.
A particularly rotted board caught his attention. He could just imagine if Jason had been playing near this one—he could have been seriously injured. Shaking his head, he dropped to his knee. Emilie was right about one thing. Parts of this rink weren’t in the best of conditions.
He turned the hammer backward and began to pull out the nails from the rotten board.
He was concentrating so hard, he didn’t notice Nell departing. And he almost jumped when Emilie spoke in his ear.
“Did you play the hockey games during the day or at night?”
He leaned back on his heels. “What hockey games?”
“The ones you played when your grandfather owned the inn,” Emilie said.
He smiled at her. “You were eavesdropping.”
“Not on purpose. I came over to talk with you and Nell. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
“Where’s your troupe?” He glanced over to the benches. The music was still playing, but the skaters had left.
“Nell is ferrying them back to the inn in her car. Frank called to say that more of the costumes came in the mail this morning. I want the troupe to try everything on to be sure that the costumes fit. Besides, I don’t want the skaters practicing when you have the saws going.”
“Who said anything about saws?”
“You’re replacing rotted boards.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He realized what he’d been doing. “Well, just this one board,” he said sheepishly. “I’ll have to come back later with the replacement.”
Emilie
smiled at him. He was growing to love that smile.
“So, what position did you play in the hockey games?” she asked, falling into step beside him.
“I preferred forward line. But the games weren’t really all that serious. It was more like...”
“A party?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded. “The more I hear of him, the more I wish I had met him.”
“Me, too.”
“He would be proud of you for doing this,” she remarked.
“I hope so.”
She smiled at him again. “I’d like to help, too. What else do you need done here?”
“Well. Let’s start with the sander.”
“I already know how to use an electric sander.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” Emilie knelt and picked up the battery-operated tool. “My dad had one similar to this. He taught me how to use it. You don’t need to show me, Nathan.”
Emilie had never talked to him about her dad before. She’d merely told him that her parents had gotten divorced shortly after she was born.
So hearing that she’d spent time with her dad surprised him. He’d had this image of Emilie growing up alone with her mother and her older sister—just the three women together. “What did your dad do?”
“He was a handyman at an apartment complex,” she said slowly, as if reluctant to talk about it. “When I was young, I spent Saturdays with him.”
“You never mentioned that.”
She nodded. “He died when I was eleven.” She said it in a low voice, staring at the tool while she spoke.
She turned to Nathan and he smiled at her.
Suddenly she said, “Watch the skills that he taught me.” Bending over, she held the tool in firm hands as she addressed a piece of wood that Nathan had flagged.
He watched Emilie’s face more than he watched her work, looking for signs of grief. But her eyes were clear, as if she’d resigned herself to her father’s death long ago.
“I’m sorry I never asked about your dad, Emilie.”
She stopped working and gazed up at him. Wisps of hair blew around her pretty face, framing it.
Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 14
