Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 3

  Gary shrugged. “Their booking agent called the dive captain and told him,” he murmured back.

  Emilie nodded and subconsciously patted the pocket of her jacket, where her phone was zipped. She’d already spoken to Lynn, their manager at the production company, just to let her know that everyone on the team was safe and accounted for. Lynn hadn’t said a word about the future, though, and Emilie had been too traumatized to think of asking at the time.

  At least Curtis, the male half of their ice dance team, had kept his wits and remembered to gather up the skaters’ phones, jackets and street shoes. They may not have clothes—indeed, Emilie still wore her Santa’s elf costume—but at least they weren’t still in skates, and they’d been able to use their phones to contact loved ones.

  “Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Katya asked. “If you know something, tell us!”

  The other skaters gathered around her, too, pressing for details.

  She explained what Gary had said about the divers. “But, guys, the other entertainers are in a different situation. They work for a different production company.” She made a mental note to call Lynn again in Colorado Springs, where their production company was located. She didn’t want to do it within hearing of her team, though.

  “My parents were supposed to visit me on the Christmas sailing,” Curtis remarked. The rugged ice dancer was from a small town in Nova Scotia and hadn’t seen his family in nearly six months. Curtis sat on a nearby cot, put his elbows on his knees and gazed up at Emilie. “Do you think Empress Cruises will let them change their booking to whatever ship we’re on next?”

  Emilie doubted they’d be assigned to another ship, but she didn’t want Curtis to worry.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Emilie reassured him. “Wherever we end up, we’ll work to get your parents there for Christmas with us, too.”

  “They’re going to dismiss us all and send us home, aren’t they?” Lynette turned to Emilie. Lynette was Curtis’s dance partner. “There are no other ships to put us on. Think of it, guys. Every ship is already staffed for the season.”

  “I cannot go home!” Katya sat up and looked at Emilie in alarm. “Please! We have to find a place somewhere.”

  Emilie swallowed. Katya had confided to Emilie that she desperately needed this job to help her family at home. She sent money every month to her mother and grandmother.

  Katya’s skating partner, Sergei, said something to her in Russian, which Emilie didn’t understand. The two held a quiet conversation.

  Emilie touched Katya’s arm. “What’s he saying?”

  “That he doesn’t want to go home, either. He wants to stay with me. You must do something for us, Emilie. Please.”

  Sergei was usually the one to keep Katya calm and happy. It had always surprised Emilie that they didn’t have more than a platonic relationship.

  Katya gave a soft cry and put her hand on her mouth. “All my papers are in the safe in the room!” She stared wildly at Emilie. “All our things are gone—at the bottom of the ocean! What will we do?”

  “It’s all right. I’ve kept copies of your paperwork in my computer.” Emilie felt Katya’s forehead. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have a fever. “You should get some rest. I’ll help you work it out once we get off the island.”

  “But your computer is at the bottom of the ocean, too!”

  “Electronic backups for all our files are in the cloud.” Emilie gestured upward. “It’s safe.” Saved were copies of everyone’s information—visas and paperwork and even costume measurements. Skate sizes, too—not that that mattered since they had all evacuated the ship wearing their skates.

  “So, you can help us find a new ship?” Katya asked, her face hopeful. “Yes?”

  “You’re the Ice Mom.” Gary rose a brow at her.

  “Yes, I certainly am.” Emilie smiled. “Don’t listen to the gossip from the diving team or the dancers, either. Listen to me. I’ll call our production company right now and see what they can do for us.”

  “Thank you, Emilie.” Katya leaned back in her cot. She seemed pale. Emilie made a mental note to be here when Dr. David showed up.

  She turned to Gary, her de facto assistant. “Gary, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Please make sure that everyone sticks together. I’ll be back shortly.”

  She headed again for the beach, this time to make her call.

  She would keep them together. Last year had been a depressing Christmas because it had been the anniversary of her breakup with Nathan. She had vowed that this season would be different.

  She would keep her skaters together, at least through Christmas. She didn’t know how, but she would make it happen.

  Then she caught sight of the reporter she’d seen earlier. He was still trying to record eyewitness accounts of the accident.

  Maybe he’d like to see an eyewitness video...

  “Hello!” She waved to the young man.

  Immediately he trotted across the sand to her. “You’re a skater!” he remarked.

  “Yes.” She smoothed the skirt of her elf costume. “We haven’t had time to change yet.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emilie.”

  “Joseph.” He shook her hand vigorously, then fiddled with his phone screen. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? I’ve heard about you all in the troupe. One of the passengers was raving about you—said you were heroes. Her family was at the skating show.”

  “We just did what we were trained to do,” Emilie said.

  “Yes, but you made sure everyone was evacuated quickly and safely. And you were calm.”

  “The passengers were great.” Emilie dug out her phone. “Would you like to see video of it? A passenger shared it with me. He said he planned to put it online when he gets home. I can give you the link once it’s up.”

  “That would be fabulous.” Joseph smiled gratefully. “I promise I won’t record it.”

  Ten minutes later, after he’d seen the video for himself, he prodded Emilie to speak to him for a recorded interview.

  She talked about her troupe’s dilemma. She did the best she could to pitch their need for a home for Christmas. Or at least a job.

  It was the best she could think of to do for her skaters. She hoped it was enough.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Nathan met with his investors at his local savings and loan.

  Rob, his principal investor and also the bank’s director, didn’t mince words. “Nathan, unless you can turn the cash flow around in the next two weeks, we’ll be putting Prescott Inn on the market at the end of December.”

  No!

  “Take a look at my plans before you discuss that step,” Nathan said, gazing from face to face at the four men seated around the table. He wouldn’t give up without a fight. “There’s no need to make any drastic decisions just yet. Let me walk you through the numbers.” He passed out the reports he’d prepared for each investor. “Start with the expenses I’ve earmarked to cut.”

  Rob reluctantly reached for his copy and flipped to the table that bulleted the list of Nathan’s proposed tactics.

  “It’s a start,” Rob remarked. “But you have to keep going. And you also need marketing ideas that don’t cost money. The rooms don’t fill themselves.”

  “We do have ideas, great ones,” Nathan assured him. He thought of Nell and the marketing research he’d assigned her. For now, though, he held up a second bound report, which he’d received from his property consultant this past summer. “This study describes all of our winter facilities and their state of repair as well as future maintenance needs. My team is currently looking into targeted promotion and free publicity for the low-expense venues as appropriate. These efforts will increase bookings for the holiday season.”

  “Ah. You’re talking about the sleigh rides and such.”
B.G. Richards, one of the minor investors, reached for the report, smiling with nostalgia at the photo on the cover. “My kids are looking forward to using the ice rink this Christmas. Will it be open to the community?”

  Finally, Nathan had an ally. He directed his attention on B.G.—a local construction manager and family man who supported the homeless shelter and had a pretty big heart when it came to kids. “As you know, B.G., that’s a big part of the reason I led this effort to purchase the inn—to keep the use of the facilities in the community and allow access to the local children.”

  B.G. nodded, but of the five of them present at the meeting, Rob was the majority investor, and he was scowling at Nathan. Nathan modified his approach. “Of course, we will close the rink if necessary—and any other facility—if it helps the short-term cash flow. At least until we get back on our feet.” He stared hard at Rob. “Rest assured, I’m prepared to do whatever is fiscally necessary to turn this crisis around.”

  Rob nodded with satisfaction. He seemed to like that Nathan had used the word crisis.

  “That ice rink B.G. mentioned is expensive to keep up,” Rob remarked, closing the cover of his report. “As the property consultant noted, there are maintenance costs. Electricity.” He crossed his arms and stared at Nathan. “I think you should take a look at that expense first.”

  “All right,” Nathan said. “But I’m asking for your continued patience with my overall plans. Right now, we’re performing an analysis of the winter programs our competitors are offering so we can better gauge which facilities Prescott Inn should keep open.” He glanced around the table. “My plan for the turnaround is good. It will bear fruit.”

  “Very well. We’ll meet again next week and review your progress.” Rob stood, signaling the end of the discussion. “It goes without saying that any mention of Prescott Inn’s financial precariousness will not be discussed outside of this room.”

  They all nodded. The group of five disbanded.

  Nathan raked his hand through his hair as he left the savings and loan and headed to the inn’s Jeep, the resort’s logo emblazoned on the side of the vehicle.

  He felt as if he’d been body-slammed. He tried not to show it outwardly, but this meeting was official notification of his worst nightmare come true. All that Nathan had earned today was a reprieve. And a warning to prepare himself for the worst.

  All he’d wanted had been to buy and reopen his grandfather’s inn. For two years, he’d managed to hold on to that dream. He still hoped he could keep it going. But time was running out.

  As Nathan drove through town, people waved at him from the sidewalk.

  I can still stop Rob from closing the inn. I have until Christmas. Like Rob said, I can come up with even more programs to cut.

  Nathan pulled his Jeep in front of the inn’s entrance and left the engine idling as he reached into his briefcase and again pulled out the report from the property consultant.

  Frank, their valet parking attendant who was also their bellhop, came up to the window. “Park the car for you, Mr. Prescott?”

  “No, thanks, Frank. Could you please go inside and tell Nell to come out and join me? I’m moving our meeting from the conference room into the Jeep.”

  He wanted to personally check out the outdoor winter facilities. Maybe a drive into the mountains and fresh air would clear his head.

  Should he shut the skating rink or not? That was his biggest outdoor activity expense.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Prescott. I’ll let Nell know right away.”

  Frank backed away and then turned sharply before he headed inside. Nathan half expected Frank to give him a smart salute. Frank had been so happy to have his job back from the old days that he’d shaken Nathan’s hand every morning since then.

  It made Nathan sad to think of it now.

  Nathan took the bound property consultant’s report and then got out of the Jeep to circle around to the passenger seat. Once there, he flipped through the pages again while he waited for Nell.

  Finally, she came running through the inn door and headed toward him, zipping up her winter coat and swinging her purse over her shoulder as if it was the best morning of her life.

  He was glad someone was happy.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, out of breath.

  “You drive,” he directed. “We’re heading up the mountain road. We have to make some cuts, so the skating rink is the first item on the list to consider. If necessary we’ll put up a Closed sign in front of the entrance. We can pick it up from the facilities shed.”

  Her eyes widened at the news. Seeming hesitant, she got inside and then adjusted the driver’s seat, pushing it forward. “Um, I thought we were going to have a strategy session about my marketing research?” she asked nervously.

  “We are. We’ll talk about your findings and your ideas for promotion while we drive. Just make sure they’re low-cost.” He fidgeted with his report, impatient. He loved his niece, but at such a critical moment for the inn, he wished he could also afford a marketing manager with experience. Still, Nell had energy and enthusiasm, and she was family. She had just graduated with a degree in hotel and hospitality management. So maybe she had some ideas for him. He needed good ideas.

  He held up the bound report that he’d shown his investor team. “After we visit the skating rink, we’ll swing by the base of the cross-country ski trail. I want to assess the current condition of the fencing. Plus, I want to see the sleigh and make sure the barn where it’s housed is still in good condition.”

  Nell wiped her hair from her eyes and pressed her lips together. Without a word, she adjusted her seat belt and flicked on her seat warmer. It was cold in the Jeep. Their breath made steamy puffs in the frigid air.

  Still no snow outside, though. Not even a flake.

  She turned the Jeep out of the parking lot and toward the main road. “Can we, um, talk about the importance of the outdoor skating rink?” Nell asked, hesitant.

  “Why?” he said, cautious. Rob had specifically pointed it out as an item to consider cutting.

  “Because...I think we should.” She nodded decisively. “You know how the local kids loved the rink last winter.”

  “Did they?” he said blandly. He didn’t want to remember that. His mind flashed to the boy, Jason. Did he like to skate?

  “Yes.” She nodded and stepped on the accelerator as the SUV started up the steep mountain road. “The ice rink also sets us apart from our competitors in the hotel market.”

  That was what he needed to hear about. “How so? Tell me about your research. What did you find out about our competitors’ activities? What are their plans for the Christmas season?”

  “Well...” Nell smiled enthusiastically, clearing her throat. “I checked our closest competitors, the resorts you suggested I look at.” She paused while they waited for a logging truck to go rumbling past. When it was safe to do so, she cautiously turned right. The road wound a short way up the mountainside.

  “And?” he murmured, paging through the consultant’s report to the end, where all the maintenance numbers were located.

  “And...they all provide shuttle-bus access to the local downhill ski resorts. But we don’t do that.”

  “We can’t,” he said. They had offered the service last year, and the cost hadn’t justified the benefit. Besides, in Nathan’s experience, their guests didn’t ask about skiing until after the New Year.

  “Yes, I know.” Nell curled a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We have to cut expenses.” She glanced sideways at him. “However, Uncle, while the two top resorts offer sleigh rides for the kids, they also set up portable outdoor skating rinks in the winter.”

  He remained silent. He would ignore the skating rink reference for now. Rob was right—it was an excellent place for him to cut electricity and insurance costs. “Tell me, do our competitor resorts charge extra fe
es for the sleigh rides, or is the access inclusive with the room fee?”

  Nell’s cheeks reddened.

  “You didn’t check?” he guessed.

  “Well...” They drove past a vista with a spectacular view. At the top of the mountain, near the pathway that led to his family’s ancient, dilapidated outdoor skating rink, Nell suddenly pulled over.

  He sighed. “What is it, Nell?”

  “I have a confession,” she blurted. “Actually, I have something I really need to show you.” She turned around and reached for the purse she’d tossed in the back seat.

  Surprises were never good. Nathan could feel the muscles in his neck tensing.

  She pulled a folder from her gigantic purse, and then turned back around. From the folder, she plucked out a few pieces of paper and handed them to him. “Uncle,” she said, taking a deep breath, “As your marketing manager, I suggest you read and then sign this contract.”

  He stared at her. “What is this?”

  “Well...after yesterday morning and the discussion we had, I made an inquiry. I knew that if I didn’t act fast, then the opportunity would be gone. You were at the bank all morning, so I made an executive decision.”

  His temple throbbed. She was his niece—he couldn’t get angry at her. “I’m the one who makes the executive decisions,” he said in measured tones.

  “You told me to take the initiative,” she pointed out. “So I did. And it’s not going to cost us anything.”

  What initiative? he thought, irritated. “Nothing is free, Nell.”

  “Just listen. You know how we were watching that cruise ship accident on TV? Well,” she said proudly, “it gave me an idea. So I called Empress Cruises.”

  “You called Empress Cruises?” he asked incredulously.

  She nodded and set her chin. “I want us to hire the show skaters, Uncle.”

  “The...”

  “Yes. The figure skaters who give ice shows on the cruise ship. I told the lady from Empress Cruises that I was interested in hiring them, and she gave me the number of their production company. They’re the ones that handle their contracts, you see,” she said proudly.