Christmas At Prescott Inn. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ