Christmas At Prescott Inn

“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 that. 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.

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.