Christmas at Prescott Inn

by Cathryn Parry

“I should’ve asked,” he clarified.

  He reached over and touched her hand. “Did he ever watch you skate?”

  She nodded, brightening. “He was the first person who ever brought me to a skating rink. It was a long time ago, but... Mostly I remember that I loved performing for him that day. I mimicked what I’d seen on television. It made him happy.” She smiled sadly.

  “I understand,” he said. “Watching you skate always makes me happy, too.”

  Turning her palm over, she squeezed his hand in hers.

  He held on to her hand for a moment too long.

  “Well.” Her face clouded over and she glanced away, swallowing. “Shall we continue with our show preparations?” she asked in a bright voice.

  “Right.” He pulled his hand from hers. Coughing, he added, “This board right here needs sanding.”

  She bent her head and set to work. When he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to hurt herself, he picked up a manual sander and worked on another board beside her.

  “You don’t mind doing this with me?” he asked her.

  “I think it’s fun. I always liked working with you, Nathan.”

  A lump grew in his throat. He’d grown to like being with her again, too.

  She noticed him watching her, and she smiled quickly back.

  “I think it might snow today,” he remarked.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh. I know the weather report didn’t call for snow, but do you see how the sky is so gray and the air feels colder? That’s generally a sign of snow coming.”

  “But there isn’t a roof over the ice rink. What happens with that?”

  “I’ll send Guy up to tie the tarp overhead, just in case.”

  “Will that work?”

  “If the snow amounts to much, Guy will clear the ice with a snowblower and then prepare the surface again for you. If it’s a big storm, we might miss a show or two. It’s part of the joy of an outdoor ice rink in New England. We have contingencies for all kinds of weather.” He smiled at her.

  “Then we should try to finish before the flurries start.”

  “Yes. Good idea.”

  She surprised him by saying nothing more to him. She did her work as diligently as he labored over his spreadsheets. As soon as she finished with one board, she consulted with him on another, and then got right back to it.

  He fell into a groove of activity himself. The manual labor felt satisfying, which surprised him. He was so often deskbound lately—staring at a screen and worrying about numbers—that he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed being outdoors. And working with his hands.

  At last they finished, and there were no more boards marked with red paint. Technically, the whole place could stand to be rebuilt and sanded, but that would take them weeks. They’d just done the bare minimum to get by, but it felt like progress somehow.

  Together, they strolled over and sat on the same bench that the skaters had used to change out of their skates.

  Emilie unzipped her duffel bag and took out a brown paper bag. She opened it, and from the wrappings inside, he realized it was her lunch.

  “Would you like to share my sandwich?” she asked. “It’s peanut butter and jelly.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. One of the quirks of Emilie O’Shea. Almost thirty years old, and she still ate peanut butter and jelly for lunch.

  The smell of peanut butter made his stomach growl. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to share half.”

  “Okay. I have an extra bottle of water, too.” She pulled that out of her bag and handed it to him.

  He took a long swig—his throat was parched from the outdoor labor—while she set a napkin in his lap and handed over half of her sandwich.

  They ate companionably, side by side, the same as they’d worked. Another thing Nathan had done right—the chef he’d recruited at Prescott Inn was pretty amazing. Even his PB&J was world-class.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” she said, after she’d finished her first bite. “I organized a surprise for tomorrow afternoon. It’s all very last-minute and rushed, so that’s why I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet.”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “I haven’t met Maria yet—” She paused. “Have you?”

  “Jason’s mom?” He shook his head. “No. But I left a message for her to call me. Martha said she’s just very busy. She works several part-time jobs, evidently.”

  “That’s what I heard, too. Julie—one of my skaters—talked to her in the dining room this morning while I was off ferrying skaters. Anyway, she gleaned a bit more information from Jason’s mom. Did you know that tomorrow is Jason’s seventh birthday?”

  He stopped chewing. “Seriously?”

  “I hope it’s okay with you that I ordered a birthday cake from Claude.”

  “It’s absolutely okay. No worries there.”

  She rewarded him with a big smile. “Thank you, Nathan! And you’re coming to the party, too, of course.”

  “Right.” He wouldn’t miss it for anything. He would have to squeeze it around his meeting with Rob, but...

  “Well...” He glanced at his watch and stood. As much he’d enjoyed her company, he had to get back to the office and prepare the reports for tomorrow’s investor meeting. “I have to get going.”

  “So soon?”

  “I’m sorry. Yes.” He brushed off his hands, and then he realized that Nell still hadn’t returned.

  “I wonder where Nell is?” He patted his back pocket, but his phone wasn’t there, either. “My phone is in Nell’s car, or I would call her. Would you mind giving me a ride back to the inn in my Jeep?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Emilie said.

  * * *

  WHAT EMILIE HAD seen today from Nathan were appealing glimpses of the man she’d fallen in love with. And all it had taken was her being her honest self and telling him the truth about how she felt... Suddenly, cracks were appearing in Nathan’s tough outer shell.

  She still felt as if she had a ways to go in order to understand exactly what drove him—indeed, she was making new discoveries about him with each encounter, it seemed—but for the first time since she’d arrived at Prescott Inn, it seemed she was really making headway with Operation: Mr. Nathan Scrooge. Understanding Nathan’s heart wasn’t as impossible as she’d once thought.

  Side by side, the two of them walked up the path toward the parking lot, swirls of snowflakes landing on their clothing like tiny stars.

  Yes, it was finally snowing!

  “I can’t wait for my first white Christmas,” she told him.

  “Have you ever experienced snow before?”

  “Just on television.”

  “That isn’t the same thing at all.”

  “I know.” She grinned at him and then stuck out her tongue to catch a flake so she could taste it. “So bland,” she said, disappointed.

  He laughed. She loved the sound of his laughter. “It’s not even sticking on the ground yet,” he teased. “This is a small flurry, and it will probably go away without amounting to much.”

  “Then tomorrow there will be snow, yes?”

  He chuckled. “You’re always so optimistic. That’s what I remember most about you.” They were approaching his Jeep now, so he held out his hand. “May I have the key?”

  “Certainly. It’s your vehicle, after all.” She pressed the key into his hand. He held his toolbox in the other hand, and he stepped around the car, to the trunk.

  “Oh, no,” he muttered.

  “What?” She stepped over beside him and followed his gaze downward.

  The right rear tire was flat.

  He opened the trunk. “Where’s the spare tire?” he asked, staring at the gap where the tire belonged. Emilie had taken it out to make more room to transport their co
stumes.

  “Oh, sorry. The spare tire is down in Frank’s valet parking booth. He’s holding it for me.”

  “Do you have a phone so I can call him?” Nathan asked.

  She patted her jacket pocket, but it was empty. Then she checked the duffel bag she’d carried over her shoulder. Where was her phone? She hadn’t seen it since this morning. “I must have left it back in my room.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to walk back to the inn together.” Nathan seemed happy, strangely enough.

  “Through the snow flurries?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  She knew the journey wasn’t that far. It wasn’t even that cold outside. And today she was finding that she could bear the northern weather.

  Whistling, Nathan put his tools into the back of the Jeep.

  “I’ll bring those up to your office later,” she said.

  “No need to carry them upstairs. Just drop them at my house sometime, when you have a few minutes. Call me first, though, to make sure I’m at home.”

  “Okay.” So he wanted her to visit him at his house. That made her smile.

  As they set off down the hill, it began to snow even harder. She glanced down at the ground and noticed the flakes were starting to stick.

  “When will there be enough to make a snowman, Nathan?”

  He smiled. “It will be a while yet.”

  “I was thinking of Jason,” she said sheepishly. “I really am a novice at this. It’s certainly different from Florida.”

  A cold breeze seemed to penetrate her jacket just then, and she shivered.

  Nathan stopped and took off his coat and gave it to her. Then he unwrapped his scarf and gave her that, too.

  “I don’t want to take your coat and scarf,” she protested. “How will you keep warm?”

  “Please, I want you to have them. Besides, I’m wearing a much heavier sweater than you are.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, wrapping his oversize jacket around her short, thin one that was really more suited to a Florida ice-skating rink than a New England December. His jacket was much better.

  Especially because his coat was still warm with his body heat. And it smelled like him.

  “Tell me about your other skaters,” Nathan suddenly said.

  She was glad that he was interested. “Well, Katya and Sergei are our star pairs skaters.”

  “The big guy and the petite blonde. I saw them on Janet’s TV special. Who else is on your team?” he asked. Nathan had always liked to hear her tell stories about her coworkers.

  “Well, there’s Gary. He’s my right-hand man. He’s the oldest, besides me, so I sort of treat him as an assistant ice captain.”

  “Very wise. A leader always needs a trusted assistant.”

  “Nell is your trusted assistant, right?”

  “Yep, she is.” Nathan reached for Emilie’s arm. “Watch the pothole.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Emilie sidestepped it. She’d been so enthusiastic, talking with Nathan, that she’d been watching him, marveling at the snowflakes in his hair, rather than paying attention to the road.

  “There’s always a skater hanging around my chef. What’s her name?” Nathan asked, getting Emilie back on track.

  “Julie. She has a flirtation going with Claude, but lately he seems to have eyes for Rosie, so I am kind of worried about that.”

  “Uh-oh.” He smiled so hard that the small lines around his eyes crinkled adorably. “There’s always drama in the skating troupe. I remember that part.”

  “I’ve been keeping Julie close—she’s always coming in and out of my room, and I haven’t discouraged it. I think it’s best to keep a close eye on the situation.”

  “Probably wise, so long as you get your sleep.”

  “I have to admit, it’s nice not to have bunk beds. And to have a bigger bed than those tiny cots we had on the ship.”

  Nathan laughed aloud. “Wow, I forgot about those. Yeah, you’re right, those were pretty bad.”

  They rounded the corner to the inn parking lot. The time had passed so pleasantly, it had almost felt like the old days.

  Emilie clutched Nathan’s arm and squeezed it. “Thank you,” she said honestly. “I’ll give you your coat back once we’re inside.”

  “It’s no problem at all, Emilie.” His eyes were shining brightly at her, and he was smiling more than she’d seen him smile in a long while.

  “Mr. Prescott! Emilie!” Frank came over to greet them.

  Emilie sighed inwardly. Her short interlude with Nathan appeared to be at an end.

  “Yes, Frank?” Nathan asked patiently.

  “Did you walk all the way down from the rink together?” Frank glanced at each of them in turn. He seemed discomfited by this fact.

  Nathan kept his composure. “Frank,” he said, in his polite, managerial tone, “please retrieve the spare tire for the Jeep, and then head up to the ice rink and change out the flat, please.”

  “Of course, sir. Right away.” As Frank hastened toward the inn, he gave one backward glance at Emilie.

  “It appears you have a fan,” Nathan remarked.

  “Frank has been kind to us, yes,” she murmured.

  “Because he likes you.” Nathan said it in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it didn’t bother him in the least. He stopped before the door of the inn and said, “Goodbye, Emilie. If you need anything else, then please come and see me.”

  “Yes.” She smiled inwardly, knowing that he was suddenly being so formal only because other people were watching them.

  She still wore his coat. She dipped her nose to the collar and inhaled the scent of him.

  She decided that she liked it.

  She really liked it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE NEXT DAY, Nathan sat in his office, trying to concentrate for his meeting later in the afternoon. But he was still thinking about how close he and Emilie had been together at the ice rink. The way that they’d gotten along so well—like before, only better—continued to make him smile, but even more broadly now, because he’d just finished putting together his weekly numbers report.

  It was fantastic. Better than he had ever dreamed. Their room bookings were way, way up. Their efforts at promotion were certainly paying off.

  His cell phone beeped. A text message from his major investor, Rob. Call me soon.

  Nathan texted him back.

  Reservations are up sharply. Looking great! Will gather more info and see you at the meeting.

  “Uncle!” Nell knocked once on the door and then barged inside without waiting for an invitation.

  He lifted his head and swiveled in his chair. Her grin went from ear to ear. “You look like you saw the good news,” he said.

  “I did! And we’re getting a lot of calls asking if people can buy tickets for one of Emilie’s performances. We’ll have to add that as an option instead of just booking rooms.”

  “Excellent idea. After the birthday party, why don’t you figure out how many empty seats are available at the rink each day? I’m preparing for the investors’ meeting. I’ll check with them how they want to set up for this.”

  “Actually, Uncle, I was thinking of adding more bleachers. I know of this company who rents out seats and—”

  “Numbers, Nell,” he said, smiling at her. “You need to think of numbers, always. How much does it cost?”

  She scowled at him, her enthusiasm dampened. “If I wanted to crunch numbers, I’d have been an accountant like you. I went into marketing because it’s creative. And collaborative. Look at all the attention we’re getting!”

  “Yes, and I get the attention of my investors by showing them numbers.” He got up and headed for the door, opening it. “And by the way, Nell, every profession has to deal with numbers. So get used to that.”

 
“What a wet blanket you are.” Nell exhaled as she headed for the door. Then she crossed her arms and looked slyly at him. “Emilie doesn’t deal with numbers.”

  “Sure she does. Just yesterday she told me she notes the length of each program in her show in order to keep the performance within a certain time frame.” He couldn’t help smiling at the memory of his afternoon with Emilie.

  Nell’s eyes widened. “You like her, Uncle.”

  Yes, he did. He’d liked her two years ago, and he liked her again now. There was no denying that fact.

  He gazed out the window that overlooked the lobby. Maybe Emilie would walk past on the way to the birthday party.

  “Are you watching for her?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  Nell clucked beside him.

  He took a breath. He’d kept this from Nell for far too long. It was time to go public. More and more it seemed possible that he and Emilie had a chance again.

  “I was in love with her once.” He gazed down at the fireplace, now dancing with flames.

  “You...?” Nell seemed gobsmacked.

  “We worked together on the Empress Caribbean.”

  Nell’s mouth remained open.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before. I guess I just wasn’t ready.”

  Maybe it didn’t really matter why he was confessing, just that believing in a bright future made him feel better in his own skin. In turn, he supposed that would help him interact better with others.

  “You’ve been a good helper to me, Nell. The success we’re having is largely due to your talents in connecting with people.” Like Emilie’s knack for looking out for others.

  “Wow, I’m... Thank you, Uncle.” Nell blinked. Then she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  He gingerly patted her shoulder. “You’re welcome.” He stepped back. “Ah...Jason’s party should be starting soon. Want to head downstairs?”

  “Right.” Nell wiped her eyes. “Oh. You should probably know that Emilie was going to escort you downstairs herself—she’s already figured out that you tend to get caught up in your reports. But she asked me to do it because she said she’s busy dealing with ‘skater drama.’ And yes, I really like Emilie, too, by the way.”