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“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 (#uac2e84fe-b41b-52ce-b716-65d03335780d)
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 fees 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.
He knew all that. He knew way too much about how the skaters’ business worked, in fact. He gritted his teeth. He was dying to ask about Emilie, but he could not.
“Uncle Nathan,” Nell said, “please don’t get mad at me. Hear me out.”
Obviously, she was flustered that he wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was, but for the moment, he couldn’t even speak. She had no idea of the pressure he was under, or the danger that their inn would be shuttered before the end of the year. She chattered on, pushing her outrageous, unformed idea.
“Those top two resorts you told me to study for competitive analysis? Well, they both have skating rinks, like us. But what they don’t have are shows or skaters to entertain their guests. It’s something we could have that they don’t—a competitive advantage, if you will. So I pitched the production company my idea to send the troupe from the sunken ship here to perform. It’s a win for us because these skaters have media attention right now. Huge media attention. Have you seen the television interviews they’ve been getting? It’s gone national! And we could get publicity by helping them out. Just think of the headlines—‘Prescott Inn saves shipwrecked skaters’ Christmas!’”
His head was swimming. Assuming all this was true... “But they’re cruise ship performers, Nell. The rinks are so much smaller.”
“Oh, no, Uncle. You’re thinking of this the wrong way. The skaters have a family-friendly Christmas show ready to be performed anywhere, even on land. I checked that part out.”
“We can’t,” he said softly. They couldn’t afford to hire them at all. Not in the remotest possibility. Rob had told Nathan to keep the truth of their financial precariousness a secret from everyone outside the circle of investors. And he understood why—if word got out that the inn might be put up for sale, then who in their right mind would call to book a room? And bookings were what they most needed.
He shook his head and thrust the contract forward. Emilie was an entirely separate issue. She’d been the love of his life, and Nell didn’t know about her, either. But that was his private pain.
Nell’s face reddened. “Uncle, this is a really good idea.”
“Fiscally,” he said gently, “it isn’t.”
“It is! We need to bring in revenue. People will come to the inn to see these skaters perform. We’ll fill up rooms for the winter.”
“For Christmas,” he interjected. The investors had made it clear that the holiday season was his immediate concern. The inn wouldn’t even last the winter if they didn’t have a successful Christmas first.
“Yes.” Nell nodded. “And as your marketing manager, I believe this will make us stand out. It will attract people to come and spend money and fill our rooms. Once the skaters are settled, there will be a show every day until Christmas, with the biggest finale on December 24. And as for costs, yes, there will be room-and-board expenses, but they’re minimal. There are ten figure skaters in the troupe and they’re used to berthing two to a room. Our rooms are bigger than cruise ship rooms, so they should like that. I figured we have the older, un-renovated rooms in the west wing that we rarely rent anyway. We can give them a good cleaning, and they’ll be set to go. We can give the skaters a standardized menu to order from in the dining room, so that will streamline costs, plus, we have a gym they can work out in, too, at no cost and—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand. He didn’t even want to listen to the idea anymore. It was making him remember Emilie and their life together on the ship. They’d worked out together in the ship’s gym every morning. He’d lifted weights, and she had worked on her stretches. She’d smile at him in her yoga pants and sports bra, with her hair in a carefree ponytail.
“Uncle, we can’t lose with this deal!” Nell insisted.
“What about their salaries?” he asked, forcing himself to think logically. “That’s a huge expense right there.”
“The cruise line is covering their contracts through Christmas,” she said, excited.
“Why would they do that?”
“I told you, there’s been attention in the national media. Haven’t you seen the video?”
“What video?” Nathan had been too busy preparing for his investors’ meeting to watch news or check social media. That was Nell’s job.
“A passenger was recording the ice show just as the ship hit the sandbar,” Nell said. “And he kept filming as the skating team evacuated everyone. The skaters were heroes. They kept their cool and got all the passengers out. The ice captain—a skater named Emilie—was interviewed on the chat shows last night and this morning through Skype. She’s a really great spokeswoman. So now everybody is super concerned about her troupe—they’re calling them ‘the homeless figure skaters.’ Maybe it’s embarrassing for the cruise line. In any case, the cruise line has offered to pay their salaries through Christmas if we agree to cover room and board. Then they won’t be homeless for Christmas, will they?” Nell smiled brightly at him.
Nathan’s head was spinning. Nell had lost him at the word Emilie. Was she really talking about his Emilie?
He couldn’t stand it anymore—he had to satisfy his curiosity. Ignoring Nell chattering beside him, he scanned through the contract to the end, where the skaters’ names were listed...
And there she was. Emilie O’Shea, Ice Captain. Nathan’s hand shook slightly. She’d been promoted to the job two years ago, just before their breakup. She’d been so proud of her promotion that day—so much so that she’d chosen her job and her skaters over being with him.
He still felt sick over the way it had ended. How could he relive the pain of that day again? He passed the contract back to Nell. “No,” he said firmly.
