Cathryn Parry - Christmas At Prescott Inn

“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.