Page 2 of Mistletoe Sky
“No rush on work stuff.” Willa smiled.
Their drinks had arrived. Willa tasted the tang of summer in her glass. But in Gavin’s face, she could see the gleam of the Christmas tree in the back corner of the bar, and Christmas songs played through the speakers. It was unavoidable.
“I appreciate how work-focused you are.” Gavin chuckled. “I mean, this next job is a rush job. They want it as soon as you can get it done.”
“I like a challenge,” Willa declared.
“It has to do with Christmas.” Gavin stretched out that final word.
Willa didn’t skip a beat. “It’ll be perfect to use the Chicago Christmas backdrop.”
Gavin clucked his tongue. “This ad has nothing to do with the city, I’m afraid.”
Willa waved her hand. “We have plenty of sets to choose from. Wherever the ad needs to be, we can put it there.” She thought of the studio she’d just left, the multiple sets she’d worked on, the fake kitchens, fake bars, and fake bedrooms she’d filmed in, and the fake people who’d supposedly lived in them.
“This is an on-location shoot,” Gavin said. “In fact, my clients sought me out specifically because they want to work with you.”
Willa arched her eyebrow. This was unheard of. In the world of marketing, the world of selling capital, Willa Caraway wasn’t exactly an unknown entity—but she’d only directed three commercials so far. But she wasn’t one to question Gavin. “Okay. Where’s the shoot?”
Gavin spread both hands out in front of her. “Have you heard of a little place called Mackinac Island?”
It felt like stones landing in Willa’s belly. She fixed a smile on her face, but it felt all wrong. “I have,” she said, surprised that her voice wasn’t shaking.
Gavin was still talking about the island, as though he hadn’t heard her say she knew about it. “It’s a quaint place. I looked it up online. Super, super small and snowy and cold all winter long, obviously. It gets so cold that sometimes the water between the island and the mainland actually freezes, and they put Christmas trees on it to mark the ice roads. For their snowmobiles, I guess. That’s another thing—on the island, nobody has a car.”
Willa’s throat was so tight that she struggled to swallow her cocktail. It was a surreal feeling, listening to Gavin describe Mackinac Island back to her.
“No cars, huh?” she said.
“I’d die without my BMW,” Gavin said with a little laugh at himself, as though he was embarrassed by his wealth. She knew he wasn’t.
She needed to know who’d hired him.
She filled her mouth with more tequila and felt the creeping of a headache up the back of her neck.
“Who is the client?” she asked.
“It’s so quaint, you’ll die,” he said. “An entire committee contacted me. The Christmas Festival Committee of Mackinac Island. No telling how many members there are. But they’re addicted to Christmas. They’re in charge of putting the festival together, decorating the island, and putting everyone in the Christmas spirit, obviously. I bet they even knit scarves for their horses at home. That’s how they take the tourists around, by the way. Horse and buggy!
“But apparently, tourism on the island has fallen in recent years,” Gavin continued. “As an island that makes all its money via tourism, it isn’t looking good. They want someone to comein and film a few commercials about Christmas on the island, including the festival and the horses, to set them up for the next few years of advertisements. What do you think?”
What did Willa think? She thought it was a setup. She thought it was a trap. Her hands were sweaty, and she wiped them on her black dress without thinking first.
For some reason, she said, “I’m actually from Michigan.”
“Are you?” Gavin said it like he didn’t care. “In the city, everyone is from everywhere, I guess. But does that mean you’ve been to Mackinac?” This time, he pronounced it with a hard 'K' sound at the end, like Mackinack, which was incorrect.
“It’s pronounced like Mackin-AW,” Willa said, then cursed herself for the old habit.
Gavin shrugged. “Then why don’t they spell it like that?”
“It’s French,” Willa said.
“Yeah? Well, we’re not in France, are we?”
Gavin waved down the server, eager for another Christmas cocktail. “They want you there by Monday. I figure you go there, see the sights, meet the people, and get a sense for the Christmas spirit. Create a few mood boards and around ten commercial scripts. The Christmas Festival Committee and I will have a gander, as they say, and figure out the next steps.”
Gavin went on to explain that the island was willing to keep their Christmas decorations up throughout January and February if Willa needed more time to film.
