by Amie Denman
Was it an obsession? Alice had noticed him at every event she’d planned. He was always present taking pictures, making notes and turning his observations into blogs, articles and teasers on social media. What drove him? Alice knew he loved Starlight Point because he’d loved visiting there frequently as a teenager and college student—with her.
And even though she was certain of his affection and loyalty for his employer, she knew there was something he loved even more. The business of appearances. The life of Nate Graham...where everything’s just fine.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“YOUR SISTERS ARE both coming home for Thanksgiving next week.” Alice’s mother poured water into the coffee maker as the morning sun lit the kitchen counter.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Alice hadn’t seen her sisters since her dad’s fiftieth birthday party in August. Always close growing up, they’d called and texted throughout the fall, but it would be nice to catch up. Should she say anything about working with her former fiancé? If anyone would understand, it would be Mallory and Lauren, but they might also ask questions she didn’t know how to answer.
“Mallory’s bringing Todd,” her mom continued. “Lauren’s whole family is coming, of course.” Twin daughters and a son kept Alice’s older sister busy. She was only twenty-nine, but she already had an entire family. Not that Alice was jealous. She loved seeing her nieces and nephew, and she hoped they could come again to go ice skating and visit with Santa at Starlight Point’s winter festival.
Alice got three coffee cups out of the cabinet and lined them up. Her father would be down to eat any moment before leaving for the bank. Although her father always wore a jacket and tie that suited his profession, Alice’s mother was a much more colorful dresser.
Her mother owned a clothing store in downtown Bayside specializing in actual vintage clothing and new clothing that appeared old. Her favorite time periods were the 1930s and 1940s. When Alice was a teenager, she would race home to help in her mother’s store, loving the colors and patterns and the excitement of opening boxes.
“Is that new?” Alice asked, pointing to her mother’s vintage polka dot skirt in red and ivory.
Her mother fingered the cotton fabric. “It’s one of our new lines in time for Christmas. We got them in winter colors this time around—you should see the dark green one—but I’m going to put in an order for spring and summer. People like the dots, I think.”
“I love it. Will you order in pink ones for me?”
Her mother smiled and shook her head. “You shouldn’t let your aunt get to you. My sister has been bossy and opinionated her entire life. When she told you redheads couldn’t wear pink when you were in kindergarten, I’m sure she had no idea it would scar you for life.”
“It didn’t. I wear pink almost every day.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. You’re quite a lot like her in the way you tell people the truth whether they want to hear it or not.”
“It’s better than pretending, and you never have to wonder what I’m thinking.”
“Just don’t tell women what they can and can’t wear or what they should do with their makeup or hair. It becomes baggage.”
“Uh-oh,” Alice said. “I may have rained on my coworker’s idea of getting highlights.”
“When are you going to learn?” her mother asked.
Alice’s phone buzzed in the purse she’d slung over the back of a kitchen chair. She dug it out and looked at the caller identification. Nate? He hadn’t been to work in three days, and she’d assumed he was taking care of his father after another round of chemo. Alice had been torn about what to do or say. She couldn’t stop by the hospital or his house with flowers as she might with another coworker’s relative. Instead, she had texted Nate and simply said she wished him well. It was skimpy, but it was all she could do.
“Hello, Nate?” she answered, a question in her voice.
Alice’s mother raised an eyebrow as she paused the coffee maker and poured a cup for her father, who had just come into the kitchen. Alice felt like a teenager trying to talk to her boyfriend on the phone while both parents listened in, and she was tempted to leave the room. But that was silly. She was a grown woman answering a call from a coworker.
“Alice,” he said. There was a long pause. She assumed he was gathering his thoughts, but wouldn’t he have done that before he called? Maybe it was terrible news and he was steadying his nerves.
“Can I help you with something? I hope your father is better.”
“He’s hanging in there.”
“I’m glad. Can I do...anything for you?”
“I’m calling about work.”
Of course he was. Their relationship was all about Starlight Point. It had to be.
“Video,” he continued. “I’ve gotten behind, and the Christmas weekends open soon.”
“Okay, I could try to take some video of the decorations that are finished, maybe record some of the preparations like the big garlands going up?”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
Alice sat at the chair her father pulled out for her. Her mother put a cup of coffee in front of her and took her father by the arm, pulling him out of the room. Did her parents really think this was a personal call? They knew she worked with Nate, but they had reserved comment and asked few questions.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.
“Ice skating. Henry told me the rink is solid.”
“We could get some employees and maybe their kids to try it out so you can take a video.”
“I was thinking of you,” Nate said, his words slow and deliberate.
I was thinking of you, too.
“If you put on that red scarf and hat that I still have, maybe something green to go with it...” he suggested.
“You think I could skate around the rink, and you could record me with the roller coaster hills of Starlight Point in the background.”
“Yes.”
“Why does it have to be me?” Alice asked.
Nate paused for several seconds. “I want it to be great. Sure I can edit it on my computer, but if I start with a beautiful skater...it will make my job a lot easier.”
Alice hesitated. When he said beautiful skater, did he mean her skating was beautiful or she was?
“I can use all the help I can get right now,” Nate said.
Alice heard the pain in his voice. Was it his father’s illness or the fact that he had to ask someone for help? Exposing his vulnerability was a gauntlet of fire for Nate. She had struggled to understand exactly what drove them apart five years ago but now, every time she saw his PR neutral face, she was putting the pieces together. Something had made him very afraid to open his heart, and she knew it wasn’t because she’d left him at the altar. That was a result, not a cause. What was the cause?
Whatever the reason, he needed help now, and Alice wanted Starlight Point to have a successful Christmas festival. “I’ll grab my skates and meet you there in an hour.”
“Thanks. You’re really getting me out of a bind, and I...”
She waited for him to finish the sentence but decided to help him with that, too. “See you soon,” she said, ending the conversation.
Alice dropped her phone in her purse and walked to the living room, where her parents were having coffee on the couch. “Did you tell me you had a dark green polka dot skirt in your store?”
Her mother nodded. “Are we going shopping?”
“Speed shopping. I just agreed to put on my skates and do a promotional video for Starlight Point on our temporary ice rink.”
Her mother jumped up. “I’ve got a vintage dark green velvet jacket in a size four. It’s a perfect complement to the skirt.”
“I hope you don’t mind opening your shop an hour early today.”
“For you, any
thing,” her mother said.
As they headed into the kitchen, Alice turned to her dad. “Would you mind if I borrowed your skates, too? Just in case I can rope a man into skating with me?”
“Take them, and good luck,” her father said, smiling over his morning coffee.
* * *
“CAN WE MOVE those evergreen trees over here to make a nice background?” Nate asked the men who were completing the setup of the ice rink.
“You want more evergreens?” a voice behind him asked. “I can put you to work unloading the truck.” Nate turned and found Mel Preston dressed in his usual maintenance blues with a blue winter coat and Starlight Point ski cap. Mel grinned and jerked his thumb at a panel truck behind him where Henry and other workers were busy. “We could use the help.”
“I’ll just put my camera in my car,” Nate said.
Glad to have something physical to take his mind off the nervous energy thrumming through his body, Nate shed the camera and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. While he waited for Alice to arrive, he made trip after trip from the truck to the ice rink carrying heavy potted evergreens and arranging them where Henry instructed. The diagram in Henry’s hands flapped in the November breeze.
It was good weather for shooting video. Slightly overcast, but still bright. The ice rink had a red fence around it, and with evergreens in groups, it was a perfect holiday scene. Another truck arrived with props from the storage area at Starlight Point. Nate was sweating inside his winter coat as he helped unload big boxes covered in colorful plastic giftwrap that would withstand a month of winter weather.
With the giftwrapped boxes and trees, the holiday wonderland was complete. All he needed now was his ice skater.
Not his ice skater. Was it a mistake to ask Alice for a favor? He hadn’t seen her in days, and he’d had plenty of time to think as he’d sat keeping watch over his dad, making him food, finding his favorite shows on television.
A flash of sun off a windshield alerted him to a car arriving. He pulled off his winter coat and tucked it in the front seat of his car as Alice pulled in next to him. Nate grabbed his camera.
“Have you worked up a sweat skating already?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Working. I unloaded evergreens and decorations for the last half hour.” He hated to admit how much he’d enjoyed the physical labor. Being outside in the fresh air made him feel alive. Alice’s fresh face had the same effect. When he was with her, he felt younger—as if he’d gone back five years. Young and foolish, he reminded himself.
“Sorry. I tried to hurry.”
“No criticism intended,” Nate said, smiling. “You dressed the part.” He gestured to her green velvet jacket and long green skirt with white polka dots. “The video should be great.”
“I just need a few warmup laps,” Alice said. “I haven’t skated since last winter.”
“It’ll come back to you, right, like riding a bicycle?”
“Yes.” She reached into the back seat of her car and pulled out a pair of black men’s skates. “These are a size twelve. Any chance they’ll fit you?”
Nate had worn a size twelve since sophomore year of high school. He’d bet his life Alice knew it at the time and still remembered. Nate shivered at the thought. Maybe he should get his coat out of his car. “They may fit,” he said, “but I’ve never ice skated in my life.”
“I tried to teach you.”
Nate remembered that day vividly. One of their high school friends had lived on a cove along the lake, and the shallow water froze enough to skate on. There had been a bonfire on the shore and a large group of their friends gathered around. It was right after Christmas three years after they graduated from high school. Some friends were home from college and some were moving on with their lives in other ways, getting married or moving away to start new jobs. Nate remembered thinking he needed to do something to show he was growing up and changing, too. It had been later that night that he’d proposed.
“Remember?” Alice prompted.
“I know, but I wasn’t ready to learn then.”
“Maybe it’s not too late,” Alice said.
Nate sucked in a breath of cold air. “Alice, do you really think I can learn to ice skate?”
She cocked her head and just enough sun broke through the clouds to highlight her auburn hair. It was one of the first times he’d seen her wearing no pink at all, except in her cheeks colored by the November breeze.
“I believe it depends upon the quality of the teacher and the motivation of the student. I know at least one of those is solid.”
Nate laughed. “Tell you what, let me get my video first. That way, in case I break one arm or both arms, I’ll still have good advertising for Starlight Point.”
“It’s a deal. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
Nate knew what he needed in a promotional video, but he never took time to think about what he really wanted. To want something was to open a door into your heart others might see. There was a time when he’d believed having Alice would make him happy, but then she’d broken his heart with no warning and walked out of his life.
Alice raised a brow and waited. “I’ll take a few laps and get the feel of the ice while you think about it,” she suggested.
She slung her skates over her shoulder with a move that suggested long practice. He was definitely out of his league here. He waited while she sat on one of the many benches alongside the temporary rink and laced up. Her long red-brown hair fell over the shoulder of her green velvet jacket. She was beautiful. She had hardly changed since he’d first kissed her by her locker junior year.
Well, her appearance hadn’t changed, but had she? There was no safe way to find out, even if he wanted to know the answer.
She stepped onto the ice and began moving with sweeping, graceful steps, lapping the sizable rink in only seconds.
With plenty of space to spare in the massive parking lot, Starlight Point had gone big with the rink. They still had plenty of parking spaces, since the crowd of locals who would show up for wintry weekends was considerably smaller than the summer estimates of guests traveling from all over the Midwest.
Nate leaned on the rail to steady himself as he followed Alice with his camera. Starlight Point’s roller coasters towered behind her as she executed a spin without losing any speed. She flashed past the evergreens and sparkling packages, her long skirt and hair flowing. Perfect. All he needed to do was edit in Christmas music, and this video would have every family in the Bayside area coming out to experience an old-fashioned holiday.
After five minutes of her skating, Nate had all the video he truly needed, but watching her made his heart light. With every quick turn and spin she made and each light leap, he felt his worries melting away. If only he could move like that, with such freedom, as if no one was watching or judging.
As Alice passed in front of him, she smiled and waved without slowing down.
Henry put his forearms on the rail next to Nate. “This will make a beautiful advertisement.”
“It certainly will. Can’t believe how lucky we are that Alice was a junior champion skater.”
“She’s full of surprises.”
Nate nodded. If only Henry knew how true that was.
“I wonder if Virginia skates? Funny how you can spend hours and days with someone and there are still things you don’t have the first clue about.”
“You could ask her,” Nate suggested.
Henry shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel I’m being invited into her confidence and sometimes I think she’s looking for bricks to build a wall.”
“Walls have their merits.”
Alice skidded to a stop in front of them, throwing ice over their shoes. “Ready for your turn?”
“I’m out,” Henry said. “I’m on the clock.”
; “We could call it work,” Alice said. “A handsome man like you holding hands with me as we skate would make great video.”
Henry laughed. “We’d look like a father and daughter.”
“So?”
“That’s not a bad idea, getting someone else out there on the ice with Alice,” Nate said.
“You’re right.” Henry held out his hand for Nate’s camera. “I think I have a better chance taking video than I do out there on the ice. You’re thirty years younger than I am, so you’re on deck.”
Alice flashed a huge smile at Nate. “Ready when you are.”
He handed Henry his camera and sat on the bench. As he took off his shoes and stuck his feet in the unfamiliar skates, he explained how to work the video mode on the camera and what kind of shots would be most useful for publicity and web video. Alice skated a few more laps while she waited.
“You’re assuming you’ll be on your feet swirling around this rink next to Alice,” Henry said. “You must have some experience skating.”
“Not one single bit, but lately I’ve been challenging myself to try things even though I feel like I’m on thin ice.”
Henry laughed. “I’ll be ready to call the paramedics.”
Alice stopped by the rail. “I’d advise you to tie those skates really tight, it’ll keep your ankles from wobbling.”
Nate pulled up his jeans and tightened the laces while Alice put an elbow on the rail and watched. “Have you really never been on the ice? Not even...since...?”
“Never,” he said quickly. “Any pointers?”
“Keep a slight bend in your knees, put your weight in your thighs and keep your back straight. Let yourself glide. Trust yourself.”
Nate got up and, keeping one hand firmly on the railing, took a step onto the ice. With the skates on, he was well over six feet and the ice looked far away. This is going to hurt. Alice took his arm. Although she was a foot shorter than he was, her grip on his arm was steadying.
