Christmas at Prescott Inn Page 7

  “The food here is top rated. Tell your server about your dietary requirements, and they’ll handle everything with the chef,” Martha said.

  That was great to know. Feeling better now that the skaters would be set for the afternoon, Emilie waved the skaters off. Honestly, she was hungry, too, but that would wait. She wanted to go to the ice rink without her team so she could assess the situation privately. She didn’t want to alarm anyone. Nell had said the ice rink was outdoors. Presumably, it would be cold. They weren’t used to cold rinks, not anymore. Their beautiful shipboard ice studio had been quite comfortable. Emilie truly hoped that Nathan’s facility at least had heaters inside...

  Nell came out of her office, which was behind the front desk. “Are you ready?” she asked Emilie.

  “Absolutely.”

  Outside, in the parking lot, they climbed into Nell’s ancient little Honda and then chugged up the steep mountain road.

  Sunlight sparkled on the ice-frosted pine trees. It was a beautiful day, but freezing. Emilie shivered, rubbing her hands under the dashboard heater vent that was taking too long to warm up. Luckily, the drive took barely three or four minutes.

  “Here we are!” Nell cheerfully parked the Honda in a small dirt parking lot—more of an outcropping, really, with a spectacular view of the pine-covered valley below.

  As Emilie got out of the car and stretched her legs, she saw that off to the side was a charming rustic sign labeled Prescott Inn Skating Rink set over a pretty pathway lined with crushed granite. Emilie couldn’t see the rink because the trail dipped downward into a glen and out of sight.

  “I’m going to warn you,” Nell said, ducking her chin and averting her eyes from Emilie as she undid her seat belt and then exited the car. “Don’t get too nervous about the location. I know it’s more primitive than you’re used to.”

  “I think the location is adorable. Very Christmas-y.” At least, it would be if they decorated it with holiday lights and holly garlands. Maybe Emilie would suggest that to Nathan as an improvement once she decided upon their signage.

  Emilie shut the car door and then tucked her hands into her jacket pocket, bracing herself as she followed Nell and picked her way across the frozen parking area, toward the pathway.

  “Is the rink heated?” Emilie asked. In her competitive days, she’d skated in cold Northeastern rinks, though as a Florida girl, she hadn’t relished the experience.

  “Heated?” Nell gaped at Emilie for a moment before vigorously shaking her head. “Oh, no. That isn’t possible.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Emilie, this is a traditional New England ice-skating experience. It’s quaint. Generations of people have enjoyed this location in winter.” Nell smiled at Emilie as if willing her to see the potential, like a perky real estate salesperson selling her a fixer-upper. “Darling little rinks in the forest don’t exist like this anymore. Well, you’ll see,” Nell finished, shrugging her shoulders and reverting back to the hesitant young marketing manager.

  The path to the venue certainly was rustic, all right. Once Nell opened the gateway and they proceeded down a short hill, Emilie stumbled over a protruding root in the path and nearly pitched headfirst into a wooden railing.

  “Watch your step there, please,” Nell chirped.

  Emilie would have to prepare her team for this. As she righted herself, she gazed into the clearing ahead.

  And there, in a depression in the forest was the saddest “ice-skating rink” Emilie had ever seen.

  It was completely open-air. With no roof whatsoever. It barely had boards.

  And heaters? If they wanted warmth, they would need to install firepits! But that might be dangerous, because the railings surrounding the rink were wooden. Beyond the boards, the viewing stands were bench-style and aluminum. The size of the ice surface would have been large and adequate—Emilie judged it to be close to NHL-regulation size—but half of the oval was completely unfinished. And the “finished” half looked like it had been prepared by an amateur who had no idea what they were doing. The ice was rough, with bumps on the edges.

  Emilie’s jaw dropped. She was appalled by these conditions.

  “So...what do you think?” Nell said cheerfully. “It’s so cute, isn’t it? The rink was built by Philip Prescott as a gift for his young bride, Ava, because she loved to skate. Isn’t that romantic? Guests just love this place, especially children.” Nell attempted a perky smile that just came out desperate.

  Emilie sank onto a bleacher seat. Yes, the romantic story was nice in theory, but this was a real-life disaster.

  How were they supposed to skate here? The circumstances weren’t even close to what she’d been led to believe that they were.

  “Now, don’t get nervous...” Nell began, sitting beside her on the bench.

  “What happened here, Nell? Who did this!”

  “Um, well...” Nell bit her nails. “Our maintenance manager, Guy—he fixed it up yesterday. Uncle Nathan said that you guys were used to a small rink for your shows, so just the front half of the ice would be sufficient for you and—”

  “Uncle Nathan?”

  “Um, yes.” Nell looked miserable. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before.”

  Nathan had a niece? He’d never mentioned that to her when they’d been dating on the cruise ship.

  Emilie tamped down her bitterness and glanced at Nell. She was at most a decade younger than Nathan—her parent must have been significantly older than Nathan. Now that Emilie studied her, she could see the family resemblance in the color of their hair and the oval shape of their faces.

  Nell blushed furiously. “I didn’t mention it to you because I was trying to be professional.” She gave Emilie a pleading look. “Uncle Nathan is actually my mom’s younger brother.”

  An older sister. Yet another thing Nathan had neglected to discuss with her two years ago. Emilie shook her head. She’d seen enough of this so-called ice surface he’d arranged for her. It was time for a talk with Uncle Nathan.

  “Are you mad at me, Emilie?” Nell asked.

  “No, I’m not mad at you at all, Nell. You’re just doing your job.” Emilie turned toward the parking lot. “I’d like to go back to the inn, please. It’s important that I speak with Mr. Prescott about the ice surface. And there’s no need to show me to his office—I know where it is.”

  “Please don’t get me in trouble,” Nell whispered. Her lips were trembling, and Emilie took pity on her.

  “Don’t worry,” she soothed the younger woman. “I’ll only have positive things to say about how you’ve helped us settle in. But Mr. Prescott can’t delegate everything to you. He’s hiding from his responsibilities. And there are some things about me that he needs to understand before we proceed any further.”

  Nell nodded miserably.

  Emilie clasped her hand. “Honestly, don’t worry. It will work out all right for you. You’ll see.” She smiled at Nell. “Now, it’s time to face Mr. Scrooge.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NATHAN COULD FIND no more expenses to cut.

  He sat in his office, staring at a spreadsheet on his laptop. He’d been through each department with a fine-tooth comb.

  Tired, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Emilie’s troupe would have to stick to a shoestring budget. He’d instructed Nell to make that clear to them.

  He figured he just had to stay in his office until Christmas was over. Then the skaters—and Emilie—would go home.

  But when he’d actually heard her arriving through the front entrance—and every cell in his body had seemed to be aware of her presence—he’d had to force himself not to get up and look for her. He’d turned up the sound on the television so that he wouldn’t hear her voice.

  Instead, he’d found himself straining to hear it.

  He’d finally overridden his reason
and moved to the window, flicking a finger between the blinds to peek down...

  Emilie had stood in the room below him, looking like an angel. She was dressed in a short jacket and a hat with a pom-pom on top. She hadn’t changed a day since he’d last seen her.

  She’d gazed up at him. Their eyes had locked.

  Nathan had sucked in his breath and dropped the blinds back into place, stepping away from the window. He hadn’t realized how much it would jolt him to see her...

  Now he shook his head and rose from his desk chair—he needed a break. He left his office, headed down the back stairs and went outside to the veranda to clear his head.

  The cold hit him mercilessly—he’d forgotten his jacket. He stood alone, slowly filling and then emptying his lungs in the fresh winter air. A few solitary flakes sifted down from the heavens. Beyond the outdoor pool, now closed for the winter, the mountains rose in the distance.

  Forget her. A few weeks and she’ll be gone. We’ll either increase our room reservations due to her troupe’s presence, or we won’t.

  There really wasn’t any reason for him to interact with her. Nell was more than capable of taking care of Emilie and the other skaters.

  A child’s laughter interrupted his thoughts. The boy whom Nathan had spoken with the day after Thanksgiving in the lobby, Jason—the little one who lived in his inn with his mother—came scampering out the door, struggling with a large gray tabby cat who didn’t seem intent on being held.

  Unaware of Nathan’s presence, Jason knelt and released the cat, who dashed off, disappearing into the brush.

  “Is that your cat?” Nathan asked.

  Startled, Jason lowered his gaze. “No, I’m not sure whose cat he is,” he mumbled.

  “He seems to like you. He lets you pick him up.”

  The boy brightened. “I found him last week. I’ve been taking care of him every day.”

  Nathan nodded. He’d seen the cat around. He suspected it might be staying inside his inn, in the boy’s room. He wished he didn’t have to determine that question, or if the rules were broken, because he liked the boy and didn’t want to hurt him.

  Jason sat on the back stoop and clasped his arms over his knees. He wore a coat that had seen better days and jeans that looked too big.

  “Have you named the cat yet?” Nathan asked gently.

  Jason shook his head. “I feed him and take care of him. My mom said if we can’t find his real owner, then I get to keep him because the inn allows cats.”

  They did. In certain rooms—that had been one of Nell’s marketing ideas, and since it seemed to be popular, Nathan hadn’t stopped the program. But there were very strict rules. After the guest checked in, the cat had to remain in the owner’s room at all times.

  Nathan glanced at the time on his phone. It was just after noon. “Don’t you have school today?” he asked.

  “I already went and came home.”

  Jason might be in the half-day morning program. Nathan wanted to ask whether someone was taking care of him, but he didn’t want to get the boy or his mother in trouble.

  “You should name the cat,” Nathan decided. “After all, he’s yours now, and you’re responsible for him. Give him a name that you think fits. I only ask that when you’re not with the cat, you keep him in your room. Do you think you can do that?”

  Jason stared at him. All of a sudden, he looked frightened. “Are you the boss here?”

  Nathan nodded. For now he was.

  The boy relaxed when he saw that Nathan wasn’t going to take his cat away. “His name is Prescott,” the boy decided.

  “After the inn?”

  “Uh-huh.” The boy picked up a rock and threw it.

  “Where do you usually live?” Nathan couldn’t help asking.

  The boy shrugged.

  “Do you like it here?”

  “Yes.” But he glanced down at his sneakers, and Nathan could tell that he missed wherever it was that he came from, and that he was lonely.

  Nathan blew out a breath in the frigid air. If he had to guess, they’d probably moved a few times during these past months. Gayle—the lady in charge of the shelter program—had told him once that some of these kids had very little stability in their young lives. It gutted Nathan to think of Jason feeling homeless. He understood how difficult that could be for a child.

  Jason was the youngest child Nathan had housed. He would do everything in his power to protect him—at least while he still had any power left.

  Nathan cleared his throat. “There are some skaters moving into the rooms beside you. If they bother you or Prescott in any way, just go to the front desk and ask for me. I’m Nathan.”

  The boy tilted his head. “Why would they bother us?”

  “They probably won’t.” Maybe it was a dumb thing for him to have said, never mind to have thought. Honestly, the only person whose presence the skaters would bother was him.

  Nathan rubbed his arms. It was too cold to be outside for long without a jacket and gloves. Besides, he needed to get back to work. He turned, just as Prescott the cat came running out of the brush toward Jason, who whistled softly to him.

  “Does Prescott have a litter box?”

  Jason shook his head. “He lets me know when he wants to go outside. He’s smart like that.”

  “What does he usually do when you’re in school?”

  Jason flushed and then hung his head.

  Nathan had an inkling that maybe the boy hadn’t gone to school today after all. But he couldn’t be sure, and honestly, it wasn’t Nathan’s business. Unless the cat destroyed inn property or bothered a guest, then Nathan wouldn’t intervene.

  Another manager might have evicted the boy and his mother already. From a business sense, it was crazy that Nathan was so concerned about helping them.

  He waved goodbye to Jason and then trudged back inside, making a mental note to look up Christmas stockings that he could order online. One for Jason. Maybe one for Prescott, too. He would pay for them himself, of course, and—

  Wow, I’m losing my mind.

  Sighing, he headed up the back stairs to his office.

  And then his afternoon got worse, because outside his closed door was Emilie, knocking softly.

  Nathan slowly exhaled, willing himself to be calm—to overlook the fact that he still obviously was hung up on her.

  She still wore her hat and the thin red jacket that looked new but not really warm enough for New Hampshire.

  He smiled to himself. This weather would be an adjustment for her. He leaned closer. She smelled like...an unfamiliar shampoo, not her usual ship’s brand. Jarred by her presence, he waited.

  She rapped with her knuckles again, her back to him. This time, she pounded on the door, louder and more insistent. “Nathan!” she called.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m right here.”

  She whirled to face him, her eyes huge.

  Don’t show that you care, he told himself.

  “How long have you been standing there, watching me?” she demanded.

  “Only a moment.” He walked past her and opened the door. With his free hand, he motioned for her to precede him. “Please,” he said, trying to be polite and formal. On his best behavior, but not familiar.

  Her lips pursed, Emilie marched ahead of him.

  She was angry with him, and he should expect nothing less. She’d been angry with him when they’d last spoken, too. She’d left him sitting alone in the ship’s fancy French restaurant, the engagement ring he’d bought her left behind on the white tablecloth, in its lavender velvet case.

  He’d been deeply hurt when she’d walked away. Rejected, though he would never admit what he’d felt to anyone.

  Adopting the mild, neutral expression he used when dealing with bankers, real estate agents and lawyers—the banes of his
existence—he motioned her to a seat in front of his desk.

  “No, I think I’ll stand,” she said stiffly, crossing her arms.

  “That’s fine.” He sat in his own comfortable leather desk chair and leaned back. “What can I do for you, Emilie?”

  She took a deep breath before answering, as if deliberately calming herself. Then she looked him in the eye. “You can explain something for me, Nathan, because I’m a little bit confused.” She gave him a small smile and a shrug, as if they were back on the ship and she was flirting with him.

  He simply gazed at her, not changing his expression a millimeter. He would not be charmed, and as soon as she realized that, the better off they would be.

  A crease appeared over her brow, and she frowned at him. “Why did you invite me here, anyway?”

  “I didn’t invite you. Nell did. She saw your plight on television and felt sorry for you.”

  “Nell.” She stared at him with reproach. “Your niece.”

  Then he understood why she was upset. He hadn’t told her about Nell.

  “She was young and away in college on the West Coast while you and I were dating.”

  “Dating?”

  He nodded silently. What did Emilie want to call it? They never had officially become engaged to be married.

  “So...” Emilie sat in the chair. “Nell doesn’t know about...our past history, then?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not? Why not tell her before I showed up here to live and work on your property?”

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. Because it’s painful for me to think about it, let alone say it out loud, that’s why.

  Emilie sighed. “Nathan, we should talk about this.”

  “There’s really no point.”

  “There is. I don’t want any awkwardness between us.” She gave him a charming, rueful smile. He knew Emilie—this was one of her “show smiles.” She was on. Performing for him as if he was a guest in her audience.