NATHAN STEPPED OUT of the inn, into the cold air, and rubbed his hands. The temperatures had dropped the night before, and a thin layer of frost covered the ground and the trees.
Still no snow yet, though.
He’d bundled up into a warm parka, scarf and hat. He’d brought his insulated leather work gloves and boots, plus a layer of long underwear under his corduroy pants.
He’d woken up looking forward to seeing Emilie. Last night had been, well, a revelation. He was actually looking forward to the task of fixing the rink’s boards with her. It seemed more appealing today than sitting inside, staring at a laptop spreadsheet whose numbers never seemed to line up correctly.
Tomorrow, he owed Rob a numbers report. But for now, he was giving himself a few hours’ reprieve with Emilie before he got back to business.
In the parking lot of Prescott Inn, Nell opened up the hatchback trunk of her Honda, and whistling, he dropped his toolbox inside, beside a pair of jumper cables and a shovel with a short handle. A person could never be too prepared this time of year.
He got into the passenger seat beside Nell. “Okay,” he said.
“I’m so excited you’re coming up to see the rink this morning.” Nell was beaming.
She put the car into gear, and they bumped along the narrow mountain road. She said nothing as she drove, just hummed a fast-temp Christmas tune.
“Are you excited for the show?” he asked, curious about what they were doing, as she turned the wheel and brought them into the rink parking lot.
“Oh, yes. And I’ve been talking it up when I go into the diner every morning. Everyone is doing their bit to contribute to the success of this venture, Uncle.”
“As long as they all show up and spend money in our restaurant now and then,” he teased.
“Spoken like a true Scrooge.” They both laughed before hopping out.
From Nell’s trunk, he grabbed his toolbox. Nell had positioned her car beside his own Jeep, which earlier Emilie had parked half on the parking lot, half on the frozen ground by the trail to the rink.
His breath forming clouds in the chilled air, he hunched his shoulders in his jacket and followed Nell. Over the short hill that led down to the rink, he heard chattering voices. And instrumental Christmas music—the kind that played in shopping malls.
They walked side by side down the path, him hauling his toolbox and sander.
When they got to the gate, she put her hand on his arm. “Wait here. I want to talk with Emilie first. I’ll come back and get you.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” But it was obvious from Nell’s twitching lips she was hiding a smile.
And then she stood on tiptoe and hugged him before she turned and dashed off.
She reminded him so much of his sister.
There were two benches before the gate to the rink. Nathan sat on one and looked around in wonder. Somebody had put Christmas wreaths up on the gates, and the fir trees nearby were decorated with strings of white lights. A song played from the direction of the rink that he recognized. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” a real Christmas oldie that just served to remind Nathan of his grandfather. The music blared out over speakers that Nathan hadn’t even known they’d installed.
He stood and unlatched the gate just as Nell arrived.
“Where did the speakers come from?” he asked.
“They’re on loan. Emilie arranged for them from her company. Curtis installed them.”
“Is he an electrician?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” Nell laughed, twin red dots in her cheeks.
“What about the music? Do you have to pay royalty fees to use popular music at public performances?”
Nell laughed harder. “All that is taken care of by the production company. Relax,” she chided him. “You’re much too uptight.”
“You would be, too, if you carried the cares of other people on your back the way that I do.”
She took his hand and patted it. “Let’s go see Emilie, please.”
“Is that where the surprise is?”
Nell put her finger to her lips.
When they came into the clearing, he gaped at everything she’d done. Emilie was in the process of making his ugly, broken-down rink into a work of art. A winter wonderland.
Or maybe the North Pole.
Even more Christmas lights were strung in the spruce trees that bordered the rink. Glistening tinsel hung from the boughs. Around the boards of the rink, garlands of holly and mistletoe were strung.
While Christmas music played around him, he stared out at the ice. Before him, the skaters were practicing one of the numbers in their show, albeit not in costume. Despite standing in the subfreezing weather, he was instantly brought back to days on the ship, below decks in Emilie’s ice studio. A lone person sitting up high in the bleachers, just watching her while she practiced.
She was currently spinning at center ice, graceful arms extended even if wrapped up in a red woolen sweater, fingers covered with ivory-colored cashmere gloves. She skated gracefully, exactly as he’d remembered, and he had to admit it was especially nice to watch her on the bigger-size rink, because she could stretch her legs and work up speed as well as perform all kinds of graceful intricacies with her steps and glides.
The turns across the ice had names like mohawk, rocker, twizzle. And the jumps: Flip. Toe loop. Axel, of course—the one with the forward-facing takeoff.
She skated up to him now, out of breath, her eyes dancing. It must have been a solo she was finishing up, because the song changed, and the five men came out in a group this time.
Nathan turned to Emilie. “This does bring me back,” he couldn’t help saying.
“We have seven numbers in the first act of our Christmas show.” She smiled at him. “I’ve had to recut the length of the music, because everything needs to fit into a stricter timetable. I’ve also rechoreographed each number to fit the larger rink. It’s been so much fun, though.”
“Your solo was beautiful. It’s worth the price of admission alone.”
“Thank you! Will you be coming for the dress rehearsal? Oh, and before I forget, my boss and her boss have both booked reservations for the middle of next week.”
That surprised him. “Great. The more, the merrier.” But privately, he wondered about facing Lynn and her pressure to sell him more business. He still didn’t have clearance for that. And he had no answers for her probing questions.
Emilie squinted at him. “Should I have mentioned this earlier? My boss’s name is Lynn Bladewell, if you want to look up her reservation.”
“Yes, I know.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible. “She might have arranged for rooms already. I don’t look at the reservations individually.”
“Right. The front desk staff does that.” She glanced down at his toolbox. “Should we get started? I’ll give everyone a break for lunch.”
“That’s fine.” Relieved that the topic was over, Nathan put Lynn Bladewell out of his mind. Later he would come up with a plan for dealing with her.
He glanced over at her skaters. The ones who weren’t on the ice were all sitting on the first row of the bleachers, unlacing their skating boots. Emilie headed over to talk to them.
He motioned to Nell, who was lingering beside him. “Come with me.”
“Okay,” Nell said, “What are you going to do?”
“For now, I’m going to walk the property and note spots that have boards that need to be sanded.”
“Okay.” Nell walked beside him while the skaters gathered their things together on the other side of the rink. Nathan headed down the long side of the bleachers. With a clipboard, he made notes wherever he saw a spot where little kids or big skaters might get a sliver or otherwise get hurt.
“How many guests do you think will fit in the audience, Uncle Nathan?”
“Five hundred,” he said without missing a beat. He glanced to the end of the rink, now roped off with black curtains to create a makeshift backstage changing area for the skaters. “No, probably more like four hundred or three hundred due to the blocked-off end.”
“Did you ever attend a skating show here?”
“Sure, when I was young.” He got out a red marker from his shirt pocket, and made an x on a board that needed to be smoothed. “I’ve skated before an audience here, too.” He grinned at her. “My grandfather used to host an ice hockey game every year. Management versus hourly employees.”
“I would have liked to have seen that.” Nell sighed. “Tell me, did the inn sell tickets?”
“No. What we had—and remember, I was about ten years old back then—was an annual Christmas game, usually on Christmas Eve. My grandfather was a generous man. He roped the place off for employees only, plus whoever was staying at the inn that wanted to attend. We had hot chocolate, and people brought gingerbread and whipped cream, Christmas cookies, things like that. There were carolers. If there was snow, he gave sleigh rides, too.”
“It sounds really nice,” Nell said wistfully.
It had always been Nathan’s intention to do the same thing.
He dared to hope it was still possible. His weekly investors’ meeting was coming up in a few days.
A particularly rotted board caught his attention. He could just imagine if Jason had been playing near this one—he could have been seriously injured. Shaking his head, he dropped to his knee. Emilie was right about one thing. Parts of this rink weren’t in the best of conditions.
He turned the hammer backward and began to pull out the nails from the rotten board.
He was concentrating so hard, he didn’t notice Nell departing. And he almost jumped when Emilie spoke in his ear.
“Did you play the hockey games during the day or at night?”
He leaned back on his heels. “What hockey games?”
“The ones you played when your grandfather owned the inn,” Emilie said.
He smiled at her. “You were eavesdropping.”
“Not on purpose. I came over to talk with you and Nell. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
“Where’s your troupe?” He glanced over to the benches. The music was still playing, but the skaters had left.
“Nell is ferrying them back to the inn in her car. Frank called to say that more of the costumes came in the mail this morning. I want the troupe to try everything on to be sure that the costumes fit. Besides, I don’t want the skaters practicing when you have the saws going.”
“Who said anything about saws?”
“You’re replacing rotted boards.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He realized what he’d been doing. “Well, just this one board,” he said sheepishly. “I’ll have to come back later with the replacement.”
Emilie smiled at him. He was growing to love that smile.
“So, what position did you play in the hockey games?” she asked, falling into step beside him.
“I preferred forward line. But the games weren’t really all that serious. It was more like...”
“A party?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded. “The more I hear of him, the more I wish I had met him.”
“Me, too.”
“He would be proud of you for doing this,” she remarked.
“I hope so.”
She smiled at him again. “I’d like to help, too. What else do you need done here?”
“Well. Let’s start with the sander.”
“I already know how to use an electric sander.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” Emilie knelt and picked up the battery-operated tool. “My dad had one similar to this. He taught me how to use it. You don’t need to show me, Nathan.”
Emilie had never talked to him about her dad before. She’d merely told him that her parents had gotten divorced shortly after she was born.
So hearing that she’d spent time with her dad surprised him. He’d had this image of Emilie growing up alone with her mother and her older sister—just the three women together. “What did your dad do?”
“He was a handyman at an apartment complex,” she said slowly, as if reluctant to talk about it. “When I was young, I spent Saturdays with him.”
“You never mentioned that.”
She nodded. “He died when I was eleven.” She said it in a low voice, staring at the tool while she spoke.
She turned to Nathan and he smiled at her.
Suddenly she said, “Watch the skills that he taught me.” Bending over, she held the tool in firm hands as she addressed a piece of wood that Nathan had flagged.
He watched Emilie’s face more than he watched her work, looking for signs of grief. But her eyes were clear, as if she’d resigned herself to her father’s death long ago.
“I’m sorry I never asked about your dad, Emilie.”
She stopped working and gazed up at him. Wisps of hair blew around her pretty face, framing it.
“I should’ve asked,” he clarified.
He reached over and touched her hand. “Did he ever watch you skate?”
She nodded, brightening. “He was the first person who ever brought me to a skating rink. It was a long time ago, but... Mostly I remember that I loved performing for him that day. I mimicked what I’d seen on television. It made him happy.” She smiled sadly.
“I understand,” he said. “Watching you skate always makes me happy, too.”
Turning her palm over, she squeezed his hand in hers.
He held on to her hand for a moment too long.
“Well.” Her face clouded over and she glanced away, swallowing. “Shall we continue with our show preparations?” she asked in a bright voice.
“Right.” He pulled his hand from hers. Coughing, he added, “This board right here needs sanding.”
She bent her head and set to work. When he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to hurt herself, he picked up a manual sander and worked on another board beside her.
“You don’t mind doing this with me?” he asked her.
“I think it’s fun. I always liked working with you, Nathan.”
A lump grew in his throat. He’d grown to like being with her again, too.
She noticed him watching her, and she smiled quickly back.
“I think it might snow today,” he remarked.
“Really?” she asked.
“Uh-huh. I know the weather report didn’t call for snow, but do you see how the sky is so gray and the air feels colder? That’s generally a sign of snow coming.”
“But there isn’t a roof over the ice rink. What happens with that?”
“I’ll send Guy up to tie the tarp overhead, just in case.”
“Will that work?”
“If the snow amounts to much, Guy will clear the ice with a snowblower and then prepare the surface again for you. If it’s a big storm, we might miss a show or two. It’s part of the joy of an outdoor ice rink in New England. We have contingencies for all kinds of weather.” He smiled at her.
“Then we should try to finish before the flurries start.”
“Yes. Good idea.”
She surprised him by saying nothing more to him. She did her work as diligently as he labored over his spreadsheets. As soon as she finished with one board, she consulted with him on another, and then got right back to it.
He fell into a groove of activity himself. The manual labor felt satisfying, which surprised him. He was so often deskbound lately—staring at a screen and worrying about numbers—that he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed being outdoors. And working with his hands.
At last they finished, and there were no more boards marked with red paint. Technically, the whole place could stand to be rebuilt and sanded, but that would take them weeks. They’d just done the bare minimum to get by, but it felt like progress somehow.
Together, they strolled over and sat on the same bench that the skaters had used to change out of their skates.
Emilie unzipped her duffel bag and took out a brown paper bag. She opened it, and from the wrappings inside, he realized it was her lunch.
“Would you like to share my sandwich?” she asked. “It’s peanut butter and jelly.”
He couldn’t help smiling. One of the quirks of Emilie O’Shea. Almost thirty years old, and she still ate peanut butter and jelly for lunch.
The smell of peanut butter made his stomach growl. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to share half.”
“Okay. I have an extra bottle of water, too.” She pulled that out of her bag and handed it to him.
He took a long swig—his throat was parched from the outdoor labor—while she set a napkin in his lap and handed over half of her sandwich.
They ate companionably, side by side, the same as they’d worked. Another thing Nathan had done right—the chef he’d recruited at Prescott Inn was pretty amazing. Even his PB&J was world-class.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said, after she’d finished her first bite. “I organized a surprise for tomorrow afternoon. It’s all very last-minute and rushed, so that’s why I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“I haven’t met Maria yet—” She paused. “Have you?”
“Jason’s mom?” He shook his head. “No. But I left a message for her to call me. Martha said she’s just very busy. She works several part-time jobs, evidently.”
“That’s what I heard, too. Julie—one of my skaters—talked to her in the dining room this morning while I was off ferrying skaters. Anyway, she gleaned a bit more information from Jason’s mom. Did you know that tomorrow is Jason’s seventh birthday?”
He stopped chewing. “Seriously?”
“I hope it’s okay with you that I ordered a birthday cake from Claude.”
“It’s absolutely okay. No worries there.”
She rewarded him with a big smile. “Thank you, Nathan! And you’re coming to the party, too, of course.”
“Right.” He wouldn’t miss it for anything. He would have to squeeze it around his meeting with Rob, but...
“Well...” He glanced at his watch and stood. As much he’d enjoyed her company, he had to get back to the office and prepare the reports for tomorrow’s investor meeting. “I have to get going.”
“So soon?”
“I’m sorry. Yes.” He brushed off his hands, and then he realized that Nell still hadn’t returned.
“I wonder where Nell is?” He patted his back pocket, but his phone wasn’t there, either. “My phone is in Nell’s car, or I would call her. Would you mind giving me a ride back to the inn in my Jeep?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Emilie said.
WHAT EMILIE HAD seen today from Nathan were appealing glimpses of the man she’d fallen in love with. And all it had taken was her being her honest self and telling him the truth about how she felt... Suddenly, cracks were appearing in Nathan’s tough outer shell.
She still felt as if she had a ways to go in order to understand exactly what drove him—indeed, she was making new discoveries about him with each encounter, it seemed—but for the first time since she’d arrived at Prescott Inn, it seemed she was really making headway with Operation: Mr. Nathan Scrooge. Understanding Nathan’s heart wasn’t as impossible as she’d once thought.
Side by side, the two of them walked up the path toward the parking lot, swirls of snowflakes landing on their clothing like tiny stars.
Yes, it was finally snowing!
“I can’t wait for my first white Christmas,” she told him.
“Have you ever experienced snow before?”
“Just on television.”
“That isn’t the same thing at all.”
“I know.” She grinned at him and then stuck out her tongue to catch a flake so she could taste it. “So bland,” she said, disappointed.
He laughed. She loved the sound of his laughter. “It’s not even sticking on the ground yet,” he teased. “This is a small flurry, and it will probably go away without amounting to much.”
“Then tomorrow there will be snow, yes?”
He chuckled. “You’re always so optimistic. That’s what I remember most about you.” They were approaching his Jeep now, so he held out his hand. “May I have the key?”
“Certainly. It’s your vehicle, after all.” She pressed the key into his hand. He held his toolbox in the other hand, and he stepped around the car, to the trunk.
“Oh, no,” he muttered.
“What?” She stepped over beside him and followed his gaze downward.
The right rear tire was flat.
He opened the trunk. “Where’s the spare tire?” he asked, staring at the gap where the tire belonged. Emilie had taken it out to make more room to transport their costumes.
“Oh, sorry. The spare tire is down in Frank’s valet parking booth. He’s holding it for me.”
“Do you have a phone so I can call him?” Nathan asked.
She patted her jacket pocket, but it was empty. Then she checked the duffel bag she’d carried over her shoulder. Where was her phone? She hadn’t seen it since this morning. “I must have left it back in my room.”
“Well, we’ll just have to walk back to the inn together.” Nathan seemed happy, strangely enough.
“Through the snow flurries?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
She knew the journey wasn’t that far. It wasn’t even that cold outside. And today she was finding that she could bear the northern weather.
Whistling, Nathan put his tools into the back of the Jeep.
“I’ll bring those up to your office later,” she said.
“No need to carry them upstairs. Just drop them at my house sometime, when you have a few minutes. Call me first, though, to make sure I’m at home.”
“Okay.” So he wanted her to visit him at his house. That made her smile.
As they set off down the hill, it began to snow even harder. She glanced down at the ground and noticed the flakes were starting to stick.
“When will there be enough to make a snowman, Nathan?”
He smiled. “It will be a while yet.”
“I was thinking of Jason,” she said sheepishly. “I really am a novice at this. It’s certainly different from Florida.”
A cold breeze seemed to penetrate her jacket just then, and she shivered.
Nathan stopped and took off his coat and gave it to her. Then he unwrapped his scarf and gave her that, too.
“I don’t want to take your coat and scarf,” she protested. “How will you keep warm?”
“Please, I want you to have them. Besides, I’m wearing a much heavier sweater than you are.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, wrapping his oversize jacket around her short, thin one that was really more suited to a Florida ice-skating rink than a New England December. His jacket was much better.
Especially because his coat was still warm with his body heat. And it smelled like him.
“Tell me about your other skaters,” Nathan suddenly said.
She was glad that he was interested. “Well, Katya and Sergei are our star pairs skaters.”
“The big guy and the petite blonde. I saw them on Janet’s TV special. Who else is on your team?” he asked. Nathan had always liked to hear her tell stories about her coworkers.
“Well, there’s Gary. He’s my right-hand man. He’s the oldest, besides me, so I sort of treat him as an assistant ice captain.”
“Very wise. A leader always needs a trusted assistant.”
“Nell is your trusted assistant, right?”
“Yep, she is.” Nathan reached for Emilie’s arm. “Watch the pothole.”
“Oh, thank you.” Emilie sidestepped it. She’d been so enthusiastic, talking with Nathan, that she’d been watching him, marveling at the snowflakes in his hair, rather than paying attention to the road.
“There’s always a skater hanging around my chef. What’s her name?” Nathan asked, getting Emilie back on track.
“Julie. She has a flirtation going with Claude, but lately he seems to have eyes for Rosie, so I am kind of worried about that.”
“Uh-oh.” He smiled so hard that the small lines around his eyes crinkled adorably. “There’s always drama in the skating troupe. I remember that part.”
“I’ve been keeping Julie close—she’s always coming in and out of my room, and I haven’t discouraged it. I think it’s best to keep a close eye on the situation.”
“Probably wise, so long as you get your sleep.”
“I have to admit, it’s nice not to have bunk beds. And to have a bigger bed than those tiny cots we had on the ship.”
Nathan laughed aloud. “Wow, I forgot about those. Yeah, you’re right, those were pretty bad.”
They rounded the corner to the inn parking lot. The time had passed so pleasantly, it had almost felt like the old days.
Emilie clutched Nathan’s arm and squeezed it. “Thank you,” she said honestly. “I’ll give you your coat back once we’re inside.”
“It’s no problem at all, Emilie.” His eyes were shining brightly at her, and he was smiling more than she’d seen him smile in a long while.
“Mr. Prescott! Emilie!” Frank came over to greet them.
Emilie sighed inwardly. Her short interlude with Nathan appeared to be at an end.
“Yes, Frank?” Nathan asked patiently.
“Did you walk all the way down from the rink together?” Frank glanced at each of them in turn. He seemed discomfited by this fact.
Nathan kept his composure. “Frank,” he said, in his polite, managerial tone, “please retrieve the spare tire for the Jeep, and then head up to the ice rink and change out the flat, please.”
“Of course, sir. Right away.” As Frank hastened toward the inn, he gave one backward glance at Emilie.
“It appears you have a fan,” Nathan remarked.
“Frank has been kind to us, yes,” she murmured.
“Because he likes you.” Nathan said it in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it didn’t bother him in the least. He stopped before the door of the inn and said, “Goodbye, Emilie. If you need anything else, then please come and see me.”
“Yes.” She smiled inwardly, knowing that he was suddenly being so formal only because other people were watching them.
She still wore his coat. She dipped her nose to the collar and inhaled the scent of him.
She decided that she liked it.
She really liked it.