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“Don’t worry,” Emilie promised. “I’ll make it a success. What’s the next step?”
“We’ll arrange for a van to take you to the airport. I’ll email you your tickets and itinerary shortly, so keep checking your inbox. From Miami International, I imagine you’ll be flying to Boston’s Logan Airport and then driving up to New Hampshire by shuttle bus.”
“Wait? We’re going to New Hampshire?” Emilie suddenly felt nervous. NathanPrescott lived in New Hampshire.
But he would never... She shook her head.
“Yes,” Lynn was saying, “New Hampshire. Is that a problem?”
“No, no,” Emilie said quickly. “Sorry. I just assumed we were going to a rink someplace sunny. With artificial ice.”
“I’m told it’s a seasonal rink with natural ice. Rather old-school.”
“Okay.” She could adapt to that.
Scratch that, she had to adapt to that. Whatever it took to keep the team together and to secure their new jobs.
“Emilie, are you still on board with us?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Then the van will meet you at the arrival gate and take you all to the resort in the mountains. The place is called Prescott Inn.”
Prescott Inn! It was Nathan who’d hired them.
Emilie felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the carpet. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Or maybe she was hyperventilating.
“Are you there, Emilie? I heard a strange noise.”
Emilie nodded. “I’m here,” she managed to croak, hand over her chest.
Her mind was whirling. She was going to Nathan Prescott’s inn!
But why? Thoughts of him made tears spring to her eyes. He’d chosen his inn over her. Why would he want to see her now? And at the same inn that he’d shown her was more important to him than she was.
Did this mean he was second-guessing his decision? Did it mean he still cared about her?
They really had been in love, she thought wistfully.
Or maybe she was jumping to conclusions. His contract with them could just mean that Nathan simply wanted to help them out. He’d been on the cruise ship once, too, so he understood their predicament. Even if he’d only been a consulting accountant for the cruise line, he knew what the cruising life entailed. He got how serious a ship sinking was. It was a terrible, frightening experience, and even though they’d been lucky enough that no one had been seriously hurt—
“Hello? Emilie? Can you hear me? I think I’ve lost you.”
Emilie cleared her throat. “I’m still here.”
Sort of. She was having trouble processing her own scrambled and upset reactions. Honestly, though, what did it matter where the opportunity came from? Her team was being kept together and employed, if only for the short term. She was grateful for that. It was what she’d wanted. They would all feel better when they heard the news.
And the chance to prove herself to Lynn was just icing on the cake.
“So,” Lynn continued. “That’s it, then. I’ll process your contracts from our end and take care of the final details.”
“Okay...” If she could think of any other terms, now was the time to state them.
“Um. Lynn,” Emilie said, “what about a clothing allowance? We’ve lost everything in the sinking. Our rooms are underwater, and nothing is salvageable.” She assumed that to be true, anyway. “And none of us have warm coats or boots to wear in New Hampshire.”
“You’re right,” Lynn agreed. “Since this will be such good PR for us, I’ll see if I can authorize an advance for you. Let me get back to you on the amount, okay?”
“That would be great.” Emilie would organize a shopping expedition to a local mall here in Miami. That would lift everyone’s spirits. “I can’t think of anything else right now, but if I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Please don’t ask for anything else! I’m out on a limb for you as it is.”
“We’ll make you look good, I promise!”
Lynn sighed. “Just make a great new show and reconfigure the ship’s Christmas show for the new ice. I’ll talk with you soon.” She ended the call.
Emilie stood from her position on the carpet and dusted herself off.
Things were looking up.
And as for Nathan, well...
She checked her phone. He hadn’t called her. But somehow, she had hope in her heart. He’d reached out and offered them this lifeline, hadn’t he?
She would show him her honest appreciation for that when she saw him. He had broken her heart once, but in the spirit of Christmas, maybe it was time for forgiveness.
CHAPTER FOUR (#uac2e84fe-b41b-52ce-b716-65d03335780d)
WHEN EMILIE WALKED inside Prescott Inn, she found a lobby decorated for Christmas, with a fully trimmed tree, pine wreaths that smelled of the north woods and garlands atop every doorway.
She took a deep breath and appreciated the Christmas spirit.
This boded well.
But as she waited for someone to come out and greet them, she wondered why the inn felt so empty. And where was Nathan?
“Oh! Here you are!” A young woman with a big smile and dark hair came out from an office behind the front desk. She helped Emilie load her bags—meager as they were—onto a rolling brass luggage cart.
“Did you have a pleasant flight?” the woman asked sweetly.
“Yes.” Emilie touched her hand to her throat. “May I speak with Nathan Prescott, please?”
A blush crept over the woman’s cheeks. “I can answer any questions you might have. My name is Nell Lewis. I’m his marketing manager.”
“Oh! Well, does Nathan still work in this building?” She already knew the answer—the night before, she’d done an internet search. It had pained her, but in his official photos, Nathan Prescott was as handsome as ever. He looked just as he had the day he’d walked off the Empress Caribbean.
Reluctantly, Nell nodded. “Yes, and I am sorry, but Mr. Prescott is occupied at the moment. He’s put me in charge of helping you settle in.” She smiled brightly at Emilie. “How are your skaters? You’re Emilie O’Shea, right? I saw your interviews on TV.”
“Yes, I’m Emilie, thank you. And my skaters are outside, in the van.” Emilie forced a smile at Nell, still wondering if Nathan’s marketing manager knew about Emilie and Nathan’s romance.
From the blank way Nell looked back at her, though, Emilie was willing to bet that she knew nothing at all.
“Well, will Nathan be down later, then?” Emilie asked.
“He...would rather I handle all the details, simply because he’s so busy.” Nell shifted her feet, clearly uncomfortable with the message she was meant to deliver. “He’s given me instructions for managing the ice-skating project, as we’ve taken to calling it, so tomorrow, once you’re settled, you and I will take a drive up to the ice rink, yes?”
“You mean the ice rink isn’t part of this building?”
“Oh, no.” Nell shook her head, still smiling. “It’s an off-site facility.”
“So...Mr. Prescott isn’t going to be involved with us at all?”
“I’m afraid not,” Nell said apologetically. “No.”
Emilie got the message—Nathan didn’t want to see her. She quickly blinked away the moisture in her eyes. She could handle working with Nell—the young marketing manager seemed kind enough—but Nathan’s outright rejection of her?
It hurt. More than she’d realized it would. She’d never expected that he wouldn’t want to see her at all.
Her heart heavy, she retreated across the room to the stone fireplace and faced it, determined to compose herself while Nell went outside to greet Emilie’s team.
The cold fireplace she stared into seemed like a metaphor for her life—for the next month, at least.
Couldn’t Nathan even pretend to greet her kindly, even for old times’ sake?
They’d loved each other once.
Her gaze followed the long track of the chimney. Up, up, up. Near the top, just to the right, she noticed a picture window covered with wooden blinds. An office or a conference room on the second level. Shielding her eyes and squinting to guard from the glare of the sun, Emilie peered inside that window as best she could through the slats of blinds where someone—a man—watched them gathering below.
It was Nathan. She recognized his dark hair and the outline of his familiar broad shoulders. And besides, she sensed his presence by the grim stillness of his large form. Even from all this distance away, she could feel the coolness in his eyes as he gazed down at her.
She put her hand to her mouth, swallowing a gasp.
Nathan stepped away. Slowly, the window shuttered.
Quickly, Emilie headed for the lobby restroom. She couldn’t face anyone just now.
She’d cried over Nathan Prescott for a long time after they’d broken up. She’d huddled in her cruise ship cabin at the end of the working day, trying to forget him. She’d attempted instead to focus on the mundane rhythms of her schedule. Discussions of the new choreography. The challenges of learning to be a good ice captain, and the dreams of how one day she might graduate into becoming a professional choreographer.
It had been hard to put the broken relationship with Nathan behind her, but each week, it got a little easier. The reality of a show performer meant that one got used to people—important people—coming and going in one’s life like a never-ending parade. There wasn’t time for pain or longing, because the routine moved fast. New friends came. Old friends returned.
But now, as Emilie huddled—hiding, really—in the public washroom of the country inn that he’d thrown her over for, Emilie couldn’t stop the wave of grief that overwhelmed her. She was no longer Emilie O’Shea, seasoned performer and ice captain. She was Emilie O’Shea, jilted lover.
She had loved him. Nathan Prescott had snuck into her heart, bit by bit, until she’d embraced him wholeheartedly.
She’d first met him during a public skating session at the ice studio. Nathan had been hanging around behind the counter. He’d been holding a clipboard, and he’d looked so handsomely official. Bored with her own task of checking in passengers, she’d set about trying to get him to crack a smile. He’d been a challenge, but she’d persisted.
“What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” she’d asked lightly, teasing him because his green eyes appeared so serious.
He’d given her a half smile. But then he’d ignored her again, instead frowning at the papers on his clipboard.
Everyone had flirted with her in those days. Even Bart, the Zamboni driver. He called her Emmy-em. And gave her M&M’S that he scooped from the cafeteria up on deck.
But Nathan was different. He was always serious, and always working.
“What are you doing?” she’d asked him seriously, giving up on flirtation.
“I’m cutting costs.”
She’d laughed, thinking that he was joking.
“What’s so funny?” he’d asked her.
“There are no costs here,” she’d said. The skaters never dealt with money or even shipboard charges. That was the province of bartenders, or the workers in the retail shops and onboard spa. She loved their huge, happy cruise ship—with fun things to do and music always playing somewhere. She loved that the delicious smell of food—burgers sizzling or fresh-baked bread—and the fresh salty breeze of the sea were never far from her nose. The warm Caribbean sun shone nearly every day. And hundreds of joyous people, all on vacation, were always up for happiness.
So how could this guy be so grim?
Just then, a passenger had shown up before her desk, requesting two pairs of skates for himself and his girlfriend to take a twirl around the on-ship ice rink.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emilie had informed him in her sympathetic tone. “Before I can lend you the skates, you’ll need to change into long pants and a pair of socks.” She’d pointed to the sign before the desk. “It’s Captain’s rules for skating. But I’ll make sure to hold your skates aside for you when you return.” She’d smiled at them, making it seem as if the ship might possibly run out of skates if she didn’t set theirs aside—it wouldn’t, but making it seem like a special favor to the guests usually appeased their irritation of having to go back to their rooms.
As the couple left, Nathan had asked her, “Why isn’t there a shop here in the ice studio where they can buy pants and socks?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the captain that question.”
“Right.” Nathan had nodded. His face had lit up as he scribbled a note on his clipboard. That was the secret to what made Nathan tick—he enjoyed business. All aspects of it were interesting to him. She’d never met anyone quite like him.
But one of her specialties was shopping, so she had given him her honest opinion. “You know, if I was to put a store here, I would also stock it with yoga pants and cute tops that give the skating logo for the ship’s rink.”
“Or the cruise line logo,” Nathan had suggested.
“Better yet, the ship’s logo intertwined with a skate. Something you could only buy here, on ship.”
Nathan had cocked his head. “That’s a good idea.” He’d glanced around her studio as if with new eyes. And she did consider it hers; she’d been here so long, she’d had a hand in designing it. The walls were jazzy and exciting, with blown-up photos of the skaters performing. Throughout the day, she changed the soundtracks, alternating between pop, classical and rock music, depending upon her mood. “This is a really appealing place you have here,” he’d said.
“Thank you.” She’d grinned at him, but Nathan hadn’t reacted other than to continue assessing her.
Then the old classic “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” had come over the speakers, and Emilie could only sigh. The yearning, crooning voice of Perry Como always put her in the Christmas spirit. Como was way before Emilie’s time, but she enjoyed this soundtrack because her Italian grandmother had adored the singer. Her grandmother had played his Christmas album over and over in Emilie’s youth.
Thinking of her grandmother, Emilie had suddenly felt very sad. And a disquieting feeling—nostalgia mingled with guilt.
Stay hopeful, Emilie, she’d chided herself. It was always important to keep hope up, both in herself and in others.
But Nathan had peered at her, as if seeing into her heart. As if needing an answer into what bothered her.
“My grandmother used to play that album,” she’d said softly. “She lived with us when I was young. When she passed away, I...” She swallowed. Let’s just skip that part. She took a deep breath. “I really miss her.”
Nathan had looked directly into her eyes. “The song makes me sad, too,” he’d said softly. “My grandfather played that album. He owned an inn in the mountains when I was a kid. I miss him.” He gave her a sad smile.
At the time, she hadn’t picked up on his mention of the inn. In fact, he’d never talked to her about it again.
