Nell visibly sighed at him. But she nodded.
A pang went through him. She looked so much like his sister. He wanted to be good to her, but he was helping her the only way he knew how. He’d reopened Prescott Inn and had given her a job when she hadn’t any prospects.
That was how he could help people. Through business. Nathan took care of business.
Even if he didn’t seem to be doing such a great job of it at the moment.
Without a word, he turned and walked back through the empty dining room and toward his private office, which was on the second floor of the lodge, overlooking the lobby.
Usually, numbers were his friends. But of late, they didn’t have anything positive to say to him. He knew before he even checked them what tale they would tell.
His business was in the red. It was bleeding money. And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t seem to stanch it.
I can’t fail, he reminded himself, the sweat breaking out on his forehead even though the room was still cold.
He put his head in his hands as his mind flashed backed to the kid. Jason.
Nathan might not be able to give him long-term security, but if Nathan could just keep the inn open long enough to provide refuge for the boy through Christmas, then maybe he wouldn’t feel like he had failed.
He’d been so proud when Prescott Inn had first reopened. The local newspaper had compared Nathan to his grandfather, Philip Prescott, and touted the renewed hope Nathan was bringing to their depressed mountain town. Nathan had believed he could do that. After all, he’d had a successful career advising companies on how to cut costs and balance their books.
Now Nathan had to live up to the promises he’d given everyone two years ago. He had to figure out a story to sell to his investors to keep the money coming in, and before tomorrow’s meeting, in order to turn this disaster around.
As for Emilie...well, he shouldn’t worry about her. He had no reason to believe that she still sailed aboard the Empress Caribbean. She could have left that job and gone anywhere.
She wouldn’t be thinking of him, that was for certain. She’d made that much clear the last time they had spoken.
TWO THOUSAND MILES south of Nathan, on a small island in the Caribbean Sea, Emilie O’Shea hurried across the beach, toward the medical station.
Streaks of orange ran across a beautiful azure sky as morning broke over the horizon.
Nature’s beauty contrasted sharply with the semiorganized chaos on the tropical island, where ship’s officers and crew from the Empress Caribbean had led the passengers after the evacuation. The ship was now disabled, lying on its side about a mile offshore.
Emilie had spent ten years living on Empress Cruise Line’s ships, and she’d never heard of such a thing happening, to any of the company’s vessels. The whole night had felt surreal.
Since they’d landed on the beach ten hours ago, the ship’s crew had been herding the passengers, group by group, to boats ferrying them to an adjoining island, which had an airport. Emilie and her troupe of nine other figure skaters had been part of that process, but thankfully Emilie had been able to send the troupe for a much-needed break to a gym across the island, where they were bedded down in cots.
But Emilie herself couldn’t rest yet. Hurrying across the open beach, the morning sand cool on her feet, she found the doctor’s tent. Dr. David was on duty. Emilie knew him because there was always a member of the medical staff stationed backstage during their figure skating shows, just as a precaution.
At the moment, Dr. David seemed to be finishing up splinting a child’s sprained wrist. Emilie waited until the child and her parents had departed and Dr. David motioned her inside the tent.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” he murmured, shaking his head. “We’re actually shipwrecked!”
“At least everybody’s safe and accounted for.” She shivered, thinking of all the passengers who’d been in the skating rink when the alarm had sounded. Luckily, they’d all escaped safely. The skaters in her troupe were safe, too, and that’s what Emilie felt most responsible for. She got to the point of her visit and pulled out her phone. “I’m here because I’m worried about Katya. She fell when the ship hit the sandbar, and I want to show you the footage.”
“I already checked her shoulder, Emilie,” Dr. David said gently. “She’ll have a big bruise, but as long as she takes care of it with ice and rest, Katya will be fine in a few days.”
Emilie had thought so, too, but... “Now she’s complaining about a really bad headache. She said it hurt too much to walk over with me to see you. What if she struck her head when she fell?”
Dr. David gave her a look of concern. “When did the headache start?”
“About an hour ago. I asked her if she hit her head, but she says she can’t remember.” Emilie took a breath. Katya seemed so fragile and distraught that it was scaring Emilie. “I have a video from last night’s performance, but it was so dark inside the ice theater, I can’t really tell what happened to Katya. I’d like you to look at it, if you don’t mind. And maybe you could come to the gym and check on her again?”
Dr. David held out his hand for the phone. “Let me see the video.” He eyed Emilie curiously. “Where did you get the footage, anyway? I thought no one was supposed to tape the shows.”
“I got it from a passenger,” she admitted. “And no, they’re not supposed to tape our shows. But when the guy showed it to me, I wheedled a copy from him.”
Dr. David laughed. “You’re always the charmer where the passengers are concerned,” he teased. He knew she had a large email list of former audience members who followed her upbeat online blog postings.
Unfortunately, that would have to be curtailed, at least until she got another laptop. Hers was currently underwater, along with all her other things.
Clothes, photos, memorabilia...and a certain gold necklace.
Emilie blinked away the moisture in her eyes. Stay positive, she chided herself. She brought up the video on her phone—thankfully that had been collected by one of her quick-thinking skaters—and settled beside Dr. David to view the scene once again.
The recording was shaky and also dark because the house lights were down. Taken by an audience member, it showed the tops of people’s heads mostly. They’d had a full show last night—every seat on three sides of the rectangular ice stage had been filled. The ice surface, just one third the size of the indoor rink Emilie had skated on during her childhood in Florida, was lit with colorful spotlights, moving fast over the ice. A theatrical fog machine gave the appearance that the skaters were stepping from a festive holiday dream.
Emilie fast-forwarded the video to the end of the second number of the troupe’s new Christmas spectacular. It was a high-energy number involving all the members of her company—five males and five females. The troupe consisted of two pairs teams, an ice dance team, two mixed singles skaters who sometimes paired off for dance numbers, plus two more spotlight soloists.
Watching them perform the familiar choreography, Emilie felt a quick burst of pride. They’d been hitting all their marks in the new show. The transitions had been moving smoothly, and up to that point, the performance had been going off without a hitch.
Gasps of awe went up from the audience as the show segued to a solo from Katya and her partner, Sergei—the star pairs team originally from Russia. They entered the ice with a majestic lift and throw.