Christmas at Prescott Inn Read online

  That was how he could help people. Through business. Nathan took care of business.

  Even if he didn’t seem to be doing such a great job of it at the moment.

  Without a word, he turned and walked back through the empty dining room and toward his private office, which was on the second floor of the lodge, overlooking the lobby.

  Usually, numbers were his friends. But of late, they didn’t have anything positive to say to him. He knew before he even checked them what tale they would tell.

  His business was in the red. It was bleeding money. And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t seem to stanch it.

  I can’t fail, he reminded himself, the sweat breaking out on his forehead even though the room was still cold.

  He put his head in his hands as his mind flashed backed to the kid. Jason.

  Nathan might not be able to give him long-term security, but if Nathan could just keep the inn open long enough to provide refuge for the boy through Christmas, then maybe he wouldn’t feel like he had failed.

  He’d been so proud when Prescott Inn had first reopened. The local newspaper had compared Nathan to his grandfather, Philip Prescott, and touted the renewed hope Nathan was bringing to their depressed mountain town. Nathan had believed he could do that. After all, he’d had a successful career advising companies on how to cut costs and balance their books.

  Now Nathan had to live up to the promises he’d given everyone two years ago. He had to figure out a story to sell to his investors to keep the money coming in, and before tomorrow’s meeting, in order to turn this disaster around.

  As for Emilie...well, he shouldn’t worry about her. He had no reason to believe that she still sailed aboard the Empress Caribbean. She could have left that job and gone anywhere.

  She wouldn’t be thinking of him, that was for certain. She’d made that much clear the last time they had spoken.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TWO THOUSAND MILES south of Nathan, on a small island in the Caribbean Sea, Emilie O’Shea hurried across the beach, toward the medical station.

  Streaks of orange ran across a beautiful azure sky as morning broke over the horizon.

  Nature’s beauty contrasted sharply with the semiorganized chaos on the tropical island, where ship’s officers and crew from the Empress Caribbean had led the passengers after the evacuation. The ship was now disabled, lying on its side about a mile offshore.

  Emilie had spent ten years living on Empress Cruise Line’s ships, and she’d never heard of such a thing happening, to any of the company’s vessels. The whole night had felt surreal.

  Since they’d landed on the beach ten hours ago, the ship’s crew had been herding the passengers, group by group, to boats ferrying them to an adjoining island, which had an airport. Emilie and her troupe of nine other figure skaters had been part of that process, but thankfully Emilie had been able to send the troupe for a much-needed break to a gym across the island, where they were bedded down in cots.

  But Emilie herself couldn’t rest yet. Hurrying across the open beach, the morning sand cool on her feet, she found the doctor’s tent. Dr. David was on duty. Emilie knew him because there was always a member of the medical staff stationed backstage during their figure skating shows, just as a precaution.

  At the moment, Dr. David seemed to be finishing up splinting a child’s sprained wrist. Emilie waited until the child and her parents had departed and Dr. David motioned her inside the tent.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” he murmured, shaking his head. “We’re actually shipwrecked!”

  “At least everybody’s safe and accounted for.” She shivered, thinking of all the passengers who’d been in the skating rink when the alarm had sounded. Luckily, they’d all escaped safely. The skaters in her troupe were safe, too, and that’s what Emilie felt most responsible for. She got to the point of her visit and pulled out her phone. “I’m here because I’m worried about Katya. She fell when the ship hit the sandbar, and I want to show you the footage.”

  “I already checked her shoulder, Emilie,” Dr. David said gently. “She’ll have a big bruise, but as long as she takes care of it with ice and rest, Katya will be fine in a few days.”

  Emilie had thought so, too, but... “Now she’s complaining about a really bad headache. She said it hurt too much to walk over with me to see you. What if she struck her head when she fell?”

  Dr. David gave her a look of concern. “When did the headache start?”

  “About an hour ago. I asked her if she hit her head, but she says she can’t remember.” Emilie took a breath. Katya seemed so fragile and distraught that it was scaring Emilie. “I have a video from last night’s performance, but it was so dark inside the ice theater, I can’t really tell what happened to Katya. I’d like you to look at it, if you don’t mind. And maybe you could come to the gym and check on her again?”

  Dr. David held out his hand for the phone. “Let me see the video.” He eyed Emilie curiously. “Where did you get the footage, anyway? I thought no one was supposed to tape the shows.”

  “I got it from a passenger,” she admitted. “And no, they’re not supposed to tape our shows. But when the guy showed it to me, I wheedled a copy from him.”

  Dr. David laughed. “You’re always the charmer where the passengers are concerned,” he teased. He knew she had a large email list of former audience members who followed her upbeat online blog postings.

  Unfortunately, that would have to be curtailed, at least until she got another laptop. Hers was currently underwater, along with all her other things.

  Clothes, photos, memorabilia...and a certain gold necklace.

  Emilie blinked away the moisture in her eyes. Stay positive, she chided herself. She brought up the video on her phone—thankfully that had been collected by one of her quick-thinking skaters—and settled beside Dr. David to view the scene once again.

  The recording was shaky and also dark because the house lights were down. Taken by an audience member, it showed the tops of people’s heads mostly. They’d had a full show last night—every seat on three sides of the rectangular ice stage had been filled. The ice surface, just one third the size of the indoor rink Emilie had skated on during her childhood in Florida, was lit with colorful spotlights, moving fast over the ice. A theatrical fog machine gave the appearance that the skaters were stepping from a festive holiday dream.

  Emilie fast-forwarded the video to the end of the second number of the troupe’s new Christmas spectacular. It was a high-energy number involving all the members of her company—five males and five females. The troupe consisted of two pairs teams, an ice dance team, two mixed singles skaters who sometimes paired off for dance numbers, plus two more spotlight soloists.

  Watching them perform the familiar choreography, Emilie felt a quick burst of pride. They’d been hitting all their marks in the new show. The transitions had been moving smoothly, and up to that point, the performance had been going off without a hitch.

  Gasps of awe went up from the audience as the show segued to a solo from Katya and her partner, Sergei—the star pairs team originally from Russia. They entered the ice with a majestic lift and throw.

  At that moment, Emilie had been helping Julie, her champion singles skater, change from her snowflake headdress and into the costume for her next number. But she couldn’t help pausing to watch the pairs team, peeking through the curtains to check that all was well with the new number, the first time Katya and Sergei had ever performed it live.

  Emilie was the group’s ice captain. At twenty-eight, she was the ancient member of the troupe, affectionately nicknamed the “Ice Mom,” because she took care of the others. She considered the role a privilege. Along with skating in the shows, she was also the liaison with the ship’s production manager and the skaters’ production company, who employed them. But Emilie took her duties even further than t
hat. She considered the troupe her own little family, and did whatever she could to make them happy.

  Last night, all the skaters had been nervous because it was their first time performing the show in front of an audience. They were the only troupe in the fleet performing this particular number, and Emilie was on the line for its success.

  She’d been eager for the opportunity to prove herself. Performers on cruise ships were usually required to retire by their early thirties, so Emilie had to think about her next steps. She hoped to be hired as a choreographer by the production company that put together the shows for the cruise line. And if her troupe succeeded, so would she. If they didn’t...well, the business was cutthroat. There were extremely few openings for choreographers.

  And until the accident, the audience had been loving the show. There’d been lots of kids present, which was always great. Their enthusiasm fed Emilie. If not for the pleasure she gave to the audience, she probably would never have picked skating as her career. The audience had to be happy.

  Squinting at the screen, Emilie focused on Katya. The petite pairs skater with the intricate blond braids looked the part of the ice princess she was playing. Delicately, Katya stepped into a spin.

  “There! Stop the video!” Emilie said. She jabbed her finger at the screen of her phone, but she wasn’t quick enough—Dr. David moved the phone away from her.

  “Not yet, I want to see this,” he said.

  On the video, the ship shuddered and gasps rang out from the audience.

  Katya tumbled from her spin, and before Sergei could catch her, she slammed sideways into the boards.

  Dr. David paused the video and then backed it up, moving it forward in slow motion. “Katya doesn’t hit her head,” he murmured. “See? No part of her head ever touches a hard surface. Maybe she experienced some whiplash, though. Are her pupils dilated?”

  “No,” Emilie answered, thinking back to her own examination of Katya. Dr. David had taught Emilie the basics of checking for concussions. “She just says she has a headache. I want to be sure it isn’t anything serious.”

  “Once my replacement shows up—hopefully in the next twenty minutes—I’ll head over to the gym to take another look at her.”

  “Thank you,” Emilie said quietly.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, but until I get there, I’ll send you back with more ice. First, though, do you mind if I watch the rest of this video?”

  Emilie winced. She’d only been able to watch the rest of the video once. It was far too painful for her to see again. “It’s just chaos,” she murmured. But it was more than that. It was the end of her troupe.

  “You guys should be proud,” Dr. David remarked. “I heard from the security officer that your team evacuated the ice studio much faster than anyone expected.”

  Yes, the troupe had done an exceptional job under horrible circumstances.

  Dr. David touched her phone to start the video again.

  Katya lay on the ice for only a moment. As her troupe had often practiced, Gary, their other male pairs skater, dashed forward and escorted Katya behind the curtain.

  At the time, Emilie had checked her natural instinct to run over and check on Katya herself—that was a nasty fall—but she was too well-trained to actually do so. There were other professionals on hand for that. They handled such falls fairly often, unfortunately, due to the rocking of the ship at sea. The show must go on.

  But she’d known this wasn’t just choppy seas. The ship had shuddered again, and Emilie had grabbed the railing. The overhead lights started flashing. Not a good sign.

  “Hey, Emilie,” Gary, the big ice dancer, had said in her ear. “Which emergency signal is this one?”

  “I don’t remember,” she’d answered. There were so many to keep track of. She’d had to think for a minute. Different blasts and codes meant different things. There were signals for cardiac arrests and “man overboard” crises and general security warnings. They’d even turned back to port once or twice during her years at sea, but this...

  Seven short drones on the ship’s horn sounded, followed by one long blast.

  “Crew and guests assemble at muster stations,” Bill, their cruise ship director spoke over the ship-wide intercom.

  “It’s the evacuate ship signal!” Emilie realized.

  “No way!” Gary said. “That’s only for drills!”

  “Trust me, this is no drill.” Emilie slammed on her plastic skate guards so she could run off to assist passengers.

  “Everyone to the muster station!” she shouted to the audience as loud as she could. She leaped over the rink’s railing, still in her glittery elf costume, and began to usher the audience out of the auditorium.

  Incredibly, the startled passengers paid heed to her.

  Emilie gave silent thanks for all the evacuation drills she’d been forced to endure over the years. She and her skaters knew exactly what to do.

  “Is everyone cleared from the area?” she asked Gary once the room was nearly empty. He’d nodded, expression tight with the urgency of the situation.

  “I scoured the seats one last time—we’re clear up top. The security officers are scanning passenger keycards, so they’ll know if anyone is missing. The rest of the troupe is already at our muster station. They’re starting to launch the boats. It’s time to go, Emilie.”

  The ship had begun to list, so she let Gary grip her wrist and pull her down the hallway, toward the stairwell.

  The ship made another jerky pitch, and Emilie bumped into a corner rail. Gary tumbled against her. The two were in a crazy position, tangled as if they were lovers, and for several seconds, they’d been stuck there, suspended in time.

  They both laughed nervously.

  She’d never had any romantic thoughts about Gary—he was like a brother to her. But her mind shifted to Nathan Prescott in an instant. The only man who’d held her and kissed her on this romantic cruise ship. And for a moment, she felt as if he was right there with her again. But her months with Nathan had been a crazy time of happy infatuation. They’d been in love with each other, and maybe a little bit in love with love itself. Then he’d left.

  Gary pulled her to her feet, as the evacuation announcement sounded again. They made it above deck and waded through the crowd to their muster station.

  The video ended abruptly, and Emilie shook herself out of her own memories.

  They were all safe now. This issue with Katya was hopefully surmountable, with Dr. David’s help. She needed to trust in him and be grateful.

  Dr. David stared at the still shot for a moment, and then handed her the phone back.

  “I hope you and your skaters land on your feet after this, Emilie,” Dr. David said.

  “We will,” she answered, though inwardly she was less certain.

  Her troupe’s home, possessions and performance venue were now a hundred feet below water. The ship was damaged enough that it wouldn’t be repaired anytime soon, if it was repaired at all. Yes, there were ten other ships in the fleet, but all of them were fully staffed with ice-skaters. Emilie and her troupe were homeless. They had no prospects—they were jobless. At best, the cruise line would probably want to send the entertainers back to their far-flung hometowns and terminate their contracts.

  Realistically, Emilie’s performance career would likely be over. She was nearing retirement age, and was the oldest of her troupe. And with no way to prove herself, she didn’t have a hope of advancing to her dream job as an entertainment choreographer.

  Dr. David patted her shoulder and handed her an ice pack to give to Katya. “Something will come along. Be thankful it wasn’t worse.” Another little girl was stumbling across the beach toward the medical tent, crying, accompanied by what looked to be her grandmother. A reporter tried to catch the grandmother for a comment, but the woman waved him off. Emilie had seen a few camera crews on the
island trying to get the story. “I’ll be along to see Katya as soon as I can,” Dr. David promised.

  Nodding mechanically, Emilie gathered herself to return to the gym and her troupe. She did her best to put a smile on her face.

  “Take care of yourself, Emilie,” Dr. David called after her. “If for some reason I don’t see you again, enjoy Christmas!”

  Yes, she reminded herself. Christmas was a time of hope.

  And nothing was more important than hope.

  * * *

  “SO, HAVE WE lost our jobs?” Katya asked. She lay beneath a thin blanket on a rickety metal cot, looking distraught and frail.

  Emilie passed Katya the ice pack she’d received from Dr. David and sat beside her on an empty cot. “Honestly? Probably, yes. But it’s just for the moment until I think of an idea to keep us all together,” she said in a soothing tone.

  “Do you really believe you can find us something else?”

  “I do.” Emilie checked Katya’s shoulder. Her bruise seemed to be looking angrier.

  She gave Katya her brightest smile. Years of practice hid her doubts.

  Katya seemed to relax. The lines of her forehead smoothed out, and her breathing seemed less shallow.

  On the inside, though, Emilie was worried. She’d heard word on the walk back to their little camp that she and her troupe would have to stay inside this gym for at least another day. Emilie could think of worse places to be marooned, but her troupe was getting restless. They’d want answers soon.

  Emilie gazed into her wounded skater’s eyes, checking again for dilated pupils, but didn’t see anything wrong. “Dr. David said he’ll be over as soon as he can.”

  Katya closed her eyes and sighed.

  “The diving performers are being flown home to Australia this afternoon,” Gary murmured beside Emilie, his voice matter-of-fact.

  “How do you know that?” Emilie whispered, standing to face him so that Katya couldn’t see.