Читать книгу Christmas At Prescott Inn - Cathryn Parry - Страница 14

CHAPTER FOUR

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.

Instead, after that first beginning, he’d included her in his shipboard life and routine. And more and more, with each passing day, she’d found herself looking forward to seeing Nathan Prescott. He’d let her bring his mood “up,” so he was as smiling and relaxed as she was. He’d let her infuse her enthusiasm into him so he wasn’t so stoic and serious.

In turn, he’d hung around during her practices. During all her performances. And on their days off, they’d explored islands together. They’d taken advantage of the cruise ship adventure, both on ship and in port. It had been magical. The past had fallen away. There was only the perpetual present. For almost a glorious year...

And then, on the anniversary of the first day that they’d met, he’d arranged a dinner for them at the fancy French restaurant on the ship. She’d dressed in her best formal gown and strappy sandals. Her roommate had helped her put up her hair. Like Cinderella, the members of her troupe had helped with her makeup. A borrowed shawl. A festive purse...

Nathan was going to ask her to marry him. Everyone said so.

Dinner had been lovely. A bottle of champagne had been popped open. Nathan’s eyes had been so bright. His smile was infectious. A lock of dark hair had curled over his forehead, and he’d smiled with that dimple in his cheek. She was head over heels in love with him. Not the kind of love that burned out quickly, but a love that really felt like it could last a lifetime.

He did have an engagement ring for her—a gorgeous one-carat solitaire. She had never held a more beautiful piece of jewelry. But the commitment and the happiness it symbolized was the most important thing.

And then, he’d ruined everything.

Instead of bending to one knee and expressing his undying love for her, promising to be with her always, Nathan Prescott had suddenly started talking about an inn in New Hampshire.

“I’m buying it, Emilie,” he’d said with excitement in his voice. “I’ve been waiting to tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. We can move up there as soon as your contract is finished next month.”

Her mouth had dropped open in shock. New Hampshire? An inn? Where had this come from?

But Nathan hadn’t seemed to notice her distress. “You and I can work to bring back my grandfather’s inn to what it once was. I know you’ll love it up there.”

“But I’m a show skater, Nathan,” she’d tried to explain. “I work here, out of Florida, on cruise ships. And I just got promoted.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“That I’m renewing my contract in a month,” she said patiently. “You know this.”

Frankly, she’d felt blindsided by this inn thing, and she was fighting tears. Just weeks ago, they’d talked about maybe finding a condo together locally. “What about us renting a place down here and me skating and you working for the cruise line? Like we discussed?”

“Emilie,” he’d said, his voice taking on a tone as if he was trying to be patient with her, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It just came up, and I had to act fast. It’s what I’ve always wanted. What I’ve really wanted.” He’d looked at her quizzically. “I thought I told you about my dreams for the inn.”

“No, you didn’t.” Her throat felt raw, and it was becoming difficult to speak. “Not at all.”

“But I’ve talked to you about Prescott Inn. About my grandfather. And when I was a boy.”

But beyond the basics, he hadn’t told her much about his past. Not really.

In his defense, she hadn’t opened up about her childhood, either. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d preferred to live in their never-ending cruise ship present. It had seemed happier that way.

With sadness in his eyes, he’d nodded to the ring he’d bought her, resplendent in its jewel box. “Will you come with me to New Hampshire to build a life with me? Please, Emilie.” His voice had caught. “I love you.”

She loved him, too. But no—she couldn’t move to an inn in New Hampshire. “I need to stay here, Nathan,” she’d said helplessly. “I’m an ice captain now. I have responsibilities.”

His face had clouded over. “Is that what’s important to you?” he’d said shortly, in a tone that indicated he was dismissing the importance of the role to her.

She’d suddenly been angry. He wasn’t thinking of her point of view at all. “Nathan, it is important to me.” Her voice had cracked, embarrassingly, with the emotion that she’d felt.

He’d shaken his head. “But you can skate and choreograph in New Hampshire, Em. I can’t move the inn to the cruise ship—don’t you see our problem?”

That wasn’t their problem. “It’s not the fact of the position for me, Nathan. It’s the people that I’m helping here. I’m important to them.”

“On the cruise ship?” He’d outright laughed at her.

He’d shaken his head again. “Em, it’s a fantasy life out here on the ocean. I mean, it’s fun for the short term, but it’s like living in Neverland. We’re not building anything of lasting value that will provide for people in the future.”

“Of course we are!” she’d said. “My team is an all-new cast. We have an all-new show to implement.” And she was responsible for them. That was crucial to her.

That he didn’t see it as she did hurt. “This isn’t a fantasy,” she said. “This is us being real. How can you feel that way about the life we’ve been living together?” She’d dug her nails into her palms, trying so hard not to get too upset in the middle of the fancy restaurant.

He’d set his chin stubbornly. “The inn is important to me, and to a lot of other people, too. It’s a chance to build something in my community. To get back what my grandfather made. To grow roots.”

“Why haven’t I heard this before now?”

He shook his head sadly. “Maybe I was under your spell.”

That had hurt her cruelly.

There had been pain in his eyes, too. “I’m trying to say, Emilie—not very well, I realize—but please try to understand what I mean. Working at sea isn’t permanent, at least not to me. I need to go back home and make something concrete of my life.”

“I don’t agree with you that our life here can’t be permanent,” she’d said, equally stubborn. “After I finish performing, I hope to choreograph. That is a concrete goal. You’ve made a huge, wrong assumption about me. It’s as if you’ve never even met me before.”

“So, that’s what you want to do in your future?” he’d asked, looking miserable. “Choreograph cruise ship shows?”

“Yes, Nathan.”

“Can you at least come and spend a year with me and see how you like it?”

“I can’t.” Wasn’t he hearing her? “I just got promoted. People are counting on me. I can’t leave them.”

“They’ll be fine without you.”

“No, they won’t.” Her voice was rising.

“So, when does it end?”

“When everyone is happy and taken care of.”

His jaw had hardened. A subtle movement, but it was there. He was impatient with her.

And it had hurt. Because he was belittling her and discounting her needs.

“You care more about your inn than you care about us,” she realized.

He’d stared at her, but Emilie knew that it was true.

And suddenly, the bubble had popped. There was such a fundamental difference in what they each wanted, and there was no talking this out.