Page 72 of The Summer of Christmas

Chapter 22

Sunlight streamed in between the small opening in the curtains, finding Ivy and waking her from her deep sleep. Her eyes scanned a barren bedroom. She had no idea where she was. Lying in bed, she could feel the approach of an incoming hangover. What happened last night? The last thing she remembered was sitting in the booth with her doppelganger—Amari. After that, nothing.

Ivy looked around the room. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor. Her overactive movie imagination pitched an idea that she had been kidnapped. Like a scene from the Stephen King movie and book of the same name,Misery. She felt like misery. And was betting she looked like it too.

Ivy stumbled to a small bathroom that was in the process of being built. There was a sink, a toilet, and a shower, but no cabinets. Ivy knew she shouldn’t, but she did: She looked in the shaving mirror attached to the sink, and did not like what she saw. Her makeup was smeared as if she’d been in a prize fight. Her hair was something out ofYoung Frankenstein. The shirt she wore was a clue to where she might be. Ivy was wearing the hated Poison Ivy T-shirt. Was she at the Shepherd Winery?

“What the hell did I do?” Ivy muttered. She looked for her phone in the bedroom. It was nowhere to be found. The curtains by the french doors parted with the summer breeze. Ivy stepped outside onto a deck, the sun doing a Dracula number on her. Ivy squinted. Her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight as the view came into focus. She was looking at the breathtaking Seneca Lake in all its summer glory.

I’m in a lake house?she thought.Who has a lake house?Now she was a little nervous. Rather than call out a hello to see if anyone else was in the house, Ivy skulked her way back inside and walked out of the bedroom, slowly opening the door to the living area. She had indeed seen too many movies. The living area was unfurnished. But it was grand. A-frame ceiling. All wood everywhere. This was a large area, with nothing in it. There were tools and ladders. This was a work in progress.

Ivy’s eyes darted to a table made from a large 4x8 plywood placed on five wine barrels. She should have registered the wine barrels as a clue, but her eyes and nose immediately found… “Coffee!” Ivy said to no one there. It was on the table. There were two cups that each saidMonaco. There was also pastry. And a note.STAY AS LONG AS YOU NEED—NICK.This was Nick’s place? Did he live here? How? It was still being built. The coffee worked like a restorative elixir.

She realized she’d spent the night with Nick.But did anything happen?She remembered the party. She remembered Amari. She remembered something about the Christmas Karaoke. She sipped the coffee. Looked around. The walls were bare. But there was one framed piece of art on the far wall. Ivy recognized it. It was a sketch. And her foggy mind went all clear as she remembered…

Ivy and Nick sitting on the lakeshore. They were eighteen. It was their last night before they each went off to college. The sun was setting over Seneca Lake. The summer breeze was cooling. Nick had sketched a house on the back of a pizza box from Two Trees. Ivy thought he was drawing a new wine bottle label, and Nick had laughed. He said his dad would never let him create a new label. He was old school. He liked things the way they were. Nick had been a dreamer. He wanted to see his family do more with their winery. Enter competitions. Create new wines. And Nick also dreamed about building a castle for Ivy on Seneca Lake. Ivy remembered their conversation: “I don’t want a castle. On the other hand, a nice lake house.” She looked at his drawing. “With a walkout basement that goes to a dock. Maybe a home gym and a home movie theater. We can cozy up in the winter and watch the Christmas classics.”

“And the Buffalo Bills games,” Nick said as he continued adding to the sketch of their dream home.

Ivy had looked at the sketch, imagining her life in it. “Maybe you can build me a study. A place where I can write. Maybe on the top floor. Looking out over the lake. With one of those spiral staircases to get up there.”

Ivy looked up. Adrenaline cured her hangover. He had built it. He’d built their lake house. She went downstairs to the walkout basement. There was an exercise bike. Some free weights. At the other end, a large farm door. She opened it to see a small home theater. The walls were not covered with movie posters, but with pictures and pennants for the Buffalo Bills.

Ivy explored the rest of the house, including the circular staircase. She struggled up it, dizzy from the turns, like a scene right out of Hitchcock’sVertigo, which she had seen the other night.Everything is not a movie,she told herself. The study was waiting at the top of the stairs for her. There were built-in bookshelves, large windows, and more inspiring views of the lake. Nick had built it. He’d built the dream they had talked about when they were eighteen. There was an outdoor terrace. Ivy stood against the railing, leaning toward the water. She’d always loved the Finger Lakes. She took in a strong breath of summer air and that was when she noticed that she was in dire need of a shower.

The water soothed her. She was feeling much better. Maybe last night wasn’t that bad. Here, isolated in the lake house, away from her phone, she had no idea. Her plan was to shower, get dressed, and start walking home. She stepped out of the shower, but there was no towel. She searched in all the cabinets, but they were as bare as she was. She walked back into the bedroom. Removed the pillowcase from the pillow and started drying herself when—

“I brought you some more coffee,” Nick said as he walked into the room, seeing a naked Ivy.

“Nick!” She quickly tried to cover up with the pillowcase. It wasn’t working.

“I’m sorry. I figured you were still asleep. I’ll get you a towel. By the way, you look good. Have you been working out?”

“Out!” Ivy shouted, but not angrily. He had seen her naked many times before. No big deal. But now it was. Because it was now. Nick tossed a towel at her. Ivy let go of the pillowcase and missed the towel.

Fifteen minutes later, Ivy was sipping her second cup of coffee as she got into Nick’s truck. Each of them was a little awkward around each other. “I love the house, Nick,” she said. It was small talk but sincere small talk.

“Thanks. I got tired of living at home. Dad left me some money. I bought the land. And each week I do a little work on it with some buddies. Should have it done in a few months.”

“It’s really nice to see it. It was everything you talked about.”

“Everything we talked about.” Ivy could feel the regret. Like Streisand and Redford inThe Way We Were, remembering the title song of that movie. “I’m glad you got a chance to see the place. I’m putting it up for sale at the end of the summer.”

“Why?” Ivy asked. She wasn’t just curious. She wanted an explanation. The lake house was beautiful.

“I’m going to find a place closer to town. It gets a little lonely out here by myself.” Neither said anything else.

***

Nick pulled into the driveway of the Green household as he had done so many times before. Since the breakup, he’d always felt funny around her family. Like he had done something wrong.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Time to go back to reality. Last night…”

“Nothing happened, Ivy. You got a little out of control, and I figured it was better if I brought you to my place.”

“How bad was it?”

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