Christmas At Prescott Inn. Cathryn Parry

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