Christmas At Prescott Inn

Nell frowned at him and crossed her arms. And then with renewed vigor, she kept pressing. “Did I tell you the skaters will come with their own costumes and props for the show, which has already been choreographed?”

“There are insurance fees and other expenses,” he said with tight lips. Whatever Nell could think to throw at him, he would counter. The truth was, he couldn’t evaluate the opportunity from a neutral perspective because the proposal involved Emilie.

“Read the contract, Uncle. It comes with insurance from the production company. Besides, that’s a minor detail. Look at the big picture. We need to fill rooms in order to have a financially viable Christmas. Am I right?”

More than she realized.

But Emilie had hurt him. And he had said things he later regretted. He had enough on his plate right now keeping his resort open without having to deal with the pain from his past personal life.

Plus the skating troupe would require him to keep the rink open, adding to his expenses.

On the other hand, Nell believed the troupe could be a solution to their financial woes. If skaters brought in enough income to offset the costs of their room and board, she could be right.

Still, he pushed back. “There are other considerations,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve sailed on a cruise ship with entertainment staff. You haven’t. Believe me when I tell you that, in my experience, they bring drama. And commotion. Plus, they’re used to eating all day long. They bounce in and out of the facilities as they please. They interact with the guests—”

“So, let them! Maybe they could give impromptu skating lessons.” Nell’s eyes were lit with excitement. “Uncle Nathan, you’re always telling me to buckle down and get serious, and I have. This is a good idea. Everyone loves outdoor skating at a New England inn at Christmastime.”

Maybe so. But bottom line, he couldn’t cope with seeing Emilie again.

He looked out over the path that led to the old ice rink. He’d skated here as a boy himself, when his grandparents had been alive and the inn was thriving. Those had been wonderful days...

But he shook his head. There were so many costs associated with this plan. “No, Nell.”

“Uncle, I don’t have anything else to recommend to you.” Nell threw up her hands. “I’ve been brainstorming ideas for days, and I don’t have any other decent ones. But this one’s a winner—I know it. I understand you’re concerned about cutting costs because you’re an accountant at heart. Well, I’m a marketing person. We think of unique ways to bring in money. And the show skaters will give us the promotional ability to attract clients. We’ll have a unique story to tell about them—”

“The fact that we are a family-owned business, not part of a national chain, is our unique story,” he said in a harsher voice than he’d intended. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re really doing here, Nell,” he warned.

She crossed her arms. “Then I’m not sure I can help you anymore.”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t listen to what other people say. You’re too closed off.” She gazed steadily at him. “Do you know that some of the staff are afraid of you? There’s been talk.”

He stiffened. “About what?”

“You’re too focused on cost cutting. We’re worried that you’re turning into Ebenezer Scrooge.”

He laughed and shook his head. Ridiculous. He couldn’t worry enough about cost cutting. Not after that meeting with his investors this morning. That was his all-consuming purpose for the next several weeks at least.

“Nell,” he said in his most serious voice, “I’m going to be honest with you. But this is strictly confidential. No one else can learn what I’m going to tell you. Can I count on you to keep it secret?”

She bit her lip, but she nodded. “Yes. You know that you can, Uncle Nathan.”

He hoped he was doing the right thing in trusting her. She was his family, so she had a right to the facts. “We’re having financial problems,” he said grimly. “Bad ones. My investors have given me a directive to turn around our cash flow by Christmas. If I don’t make the numbers they’ve given me, they’ll shut us down—finished and sold—at the end of the month.”

“Shut us down?” The blood drained from her face. “You mean close the inn?”

“Yes, Nell.”

Her mouth gaped.

“We have to keep it extremely low-key that we’re having these financial problems,” he warned. “Because if it becomes public knowledge, it could further damage the business. Can I trust you to support me on this?”

She nodded, swallowing.

He nodded, too. Case closed. No more talk of bringing in Emilie and her show skaters here, no matter what it would do for us.

“But that’s all the more reason to bring in Emilie and her skaters. I can get us lots of positive publicity if we bring them in,” Nell stubbornly repeated. “Look. Here’s the interview Emilie did this morning. The recording is from a Miami station, but they played it on the national morning shows, too.”

He stared at Nell. It appeared she really didn’t understand the seriousness of what they were going through.

“Nell,” he said patiently, “As I said, we can’t put money into a venture like this, so please stop suggesting it.”

“The contract doesn’t require us to put in any money. They have to find a place for Emilie or it would be bad publicity for them. Just read the contract, Uncle. You haven’t even looked at it yet. How can you make a blanket statement that we can’t afford it if you won’t even read it? Don’t you trust me? Me. I’m your family, Uncle.”

Her face was red with passion. And yeah, it killed him when she put it that way. He would like to indulge her. Nell was his closest family left in the area. Nathan’s sister—Nell’s mother—lived out in California. She’d been his sole ally as a kid. Only she really understood what pain their chaotic childhood had been.

Plus, Nell did have some good ideas.

Without a word, he picked up the contract and examined it. He read it line by line, paragraph by paragraph, because that was prudent business sense. It was practical.

It read exactly as Nell said it would.

Interestingly, he noted a paragraph that gave him an out if he was in any way dissatisfied with the troupe’s performance. He could cancel the agreement at any time, for any reason, and they would have to leave.

“How did this get in there?” he asked Nell, tapping the paragraph. From the production company’s perspective, it made terrible business sense.

“I asked for it,” she said proudly.

“You?”

“I knew you’d be a tough sell. I knew that clause would help to convince you.”

“They really, really want those skaters to find a home, don’t they?”

She smiled at him. But she hadn’t won yet.

He leaned his head back on the seat.

Nell waited patiently.

He sat up and scratched some figures, in pencil, on the side of the contract. If the inn’s maintenance manager, Guy, took care of the physical upkeep of the rink, and if they didn’t spend money on outside vendors, and if the publicity Nell was talking about came through...

“The skaters can have the rink,” he murmured. “But only half of it. The front half, where the floodlights still work.”

“All right,” Nell said cautiously. “Yes, I suppose they’re used to skating on smaller surfaces.”

“Guy will run the Zamboni once a day only, in the early morning, before work.”