Christmas At Prescott Inn. Cathryn Parry

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       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 СКАЧАТЬ