Christmas At Prescott Inn. Cathryn Parry

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.

      Nell frowned at him and crossed her arms. And then with renewed vigor, she kept pressing. “Did I tell you the skaters will come with their own costumes and props for the show, which has already been choreographed?”

      “There are insurance fees and other expenses,” he said with tight lips. Whatever Nell could think to throw at him, he would counter. The truth was, he couldn’t evaluate the opportunity from a neutral perspective because the proposal involved Emilie.

      “Read the contract, Uncle. It comes with insurance from the production company. Besides, that’s a minor detail. Look at the big picture. We need to fill rooms in order to have a financially viable Christmas. Am I right?”

      More than she realized.

      But Emilie had hurt him. And he had said things he later regretted. He had enough on his plate right now keeping his resort open without having to deal with the pain from his past personal life.

      Plus the skating troupe would require him to keep the rink open, adding to his expenses.

      On the other hand, Nell believed the troupe could be a solution to their financial woes. If skaters brought in enough income to offset the costs of their room and board, she could be right.

      Still, he pushed back. “There are other considerations,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve sailed on a cruise ship with entertainment staff. You haven’t. Believe me when I tell you that, in my experience, they bring drama. And commotion. Plus, they’re used to eating all day long. They bounce in and out of the facilities as they please. They interact with the guests—”

      “So, let them! Maybe they could give impromptu skating lessons.” Nell’s eyes were lit with excitement. “Uncle Nathan, you’re always telling me to buckle down and get serious, and I have. This is a good idea. Everyone loves outdoor skating at a New England inn at Christmastime.”

      Maybe so. But bottom line, he couldn’t cope with seeing Emilie again.

      He looked out over the path that led to the old ice rink. He’d skated here as a boy himself, when his grandparents had been alive and the inn was thriving. Those had been wonderful days...

      But he shook his head. There were so many costs associated with this plan. “No, Nell.”

      “Uncle, I don’t have anything else to recommend to you.” Nell threw up her hands. “I’ve been brainstorming ideas for days, and I don’t have any other decent ones. But this one’s a winner—I know it. I understand you’re concerned about cutting costs because you’re an accountant at heart. Well, I’m a marketing person. We think of unique ways to bring in money. And the show skaters will give us the promotional ability to attract clients. We’ll have a unique story to tell about them—”

      “The fact that we are a family-owned business, not part of a national chain, is our unique story,” he said in a harsher voice than he’d intended. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re really doing here, Nell,” he warned.

      She crossed her arms. “Then I’m not sure I can help you anymore.”

      He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

      “You don’t listen to what other people say. You’re too closed off.” She gazed steadily at him. “Do you know that some of the staff are afraid of you? There’s been talk.”

      He stiffened. “About what?”

      “You’re too focused on cost cutting. We’re worried that you’re turning into Ebenezer Scrooge.”

      He laughed and shook his head. Ridiculous. He couldn’t worry enough about cost cutting. Not after that meeting with his investors this morning. That was his all-consuming purpose for the next several weeks at least.

      “Nell,” he said in his most serious voice, “I’m going to be honest with you. But this is strictly confidential. No one else can learn what I’m going to tell you. Can I count on you to keep it secret?”

      She bit her lip, but she nodded. “Yes. You know that you can, Uncle Nathan.”

      He hoped he was doing the right thing in trusting her. She was his family, so she had a right to the facts. “We’re having financial problems,” he said grimly. “Bad ones. My investors have given me a directive to turn around our cash flow by Christmas. If I don’t make the numbers they’ve given me, they’ll shut us down—finished and sold—at the end of the month.”

      “Shut us down?” The blood drained from her face. “You mean close the inn?”

      “Yes, Nell.”

      Her mouth gaped.

      “We have to keep it extremely low-key that we’re having these financial problems,” he warned.