Page 12 of The Summer of Christmas

Chapter 5

Nick strolled through the sun-flecked Shepherd vineyard that overlooked Seneca Lake. He stopped and took a deep breath. The long cold winter was over. Summer in Central New York was stunning. Eighty degrees and no humidity. Lush green hills reflected in shimmering blue waters. The vineyard never looked better.We did it, Dad,Nick thought as he inspected the grapes carefully, looking for signs of ripening. But his dad wasn’t around anymore. He had died almost three years ago. Nick had only inherited half of the winery, but he had also inherited his dad’s gift for sarcasm. He remembered how after the breakup with Ivy, he had returned home to work full-time. Nick had graduated from Cornell with a degree in viticulture and enology. Basically, he went to college to learn what he had been doing his whole life.

His dad had joked that it was “time for that Ivy League education to pay off.” Nick’s dad had always had a cutting wit, and you never knew if he was serious or joking. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sayIvy. Where is she, anyway?” There was his dad with his wit again. Nick didn’t want to tell him that he was no longer talking to Ivy.

Shepherd Winery had always been a mom-and-pop business. Now it was a mom-and-son business. Their wines had been good but never great. But Nick used what he’d learned in college, and it was starting to pay off. Big time. Like the other person he no longer spoke of, he also had dreams. Only his were in the Finger Lakes.

After Nick’s dad’s sudden death, Nick became the general manager, and he quickly made the decision to expand, something his father was always a little nervous about. He began by doubling the size of the winery and making it a place people could visit and tell their friends about. Forget social media. Word of mouth was the original and best Twitter ever. It was a beautiful Craftsman with high arching ceilings in the style of the twentieth century American Arts and Crafts movement and modeled after the turn of the century U.S. national park lodges, particularly Yosemite’s Ahwahnee Hotel, where Nick’s mom and dad had honeymooned. Nick was proud of his family winery, and sometimes he wished that Ivy could see all that he had achieved. But he knew that would never happen, as Ivy no longer visited their hometown. He figured that she was too busy being fabulous or maybe still angry.

Adding a new wooden deck that overlooked Seneca Lake brought in more customers, making it a must-stop on the Seneca Lake Wine Trail. Nick had minored in marketing and made sure that the winery was a year-round business. Shepherd Winery had a great view of the leaves when they changed in autumn. So Nick started a fall foliage wine tasting. It sold out every night. For Halloween, he had created a costume tasting/social mixer. Everyone came in a Halloween costume. There were a lot of drunken mistakes that first night, which led to some long and short courtships. But not for Nick—the only thing he was dating was his winery.

Nick made sure that Shepherd Winery continued to be the most popular winery on the Seneca Lake Wine Trail’s twenty-eighth annual Deck the Halls! weekend. Hundreds of cars and tour buses would traverse the Finger Lakes Wine Trail and stop at various wineries all decorated for Christmas. And no one decorated for Christmas better than Nick. Everyone got a special ornament for their Christmas tree, brandedShepherd Winery. Along with their tasting, everyone could sample some food. And there was no better chef than Nick’s mom, Frannie Shepherd. Her food samples were so popular that people paid for extra tastings to try her cuisine. Nick’s parents had met when they were students at Cornell. They had “met cute” at the dining hall where they both had work-study jobs. Frannie was the supervisor and Nick’s dad was the dishwasher. Frannie would always tease Nick’s dad about not getting the dishes clean enough. Their first date had been at a wine tasting. They’d dreamed about opening their own winery. It had started small with just the two of them. It had grown from a small business to a bustling winery where Nick now had twenty employees and sold thousands of bottles each year.

Nick’s dad’s ashes were scattered in the vineyard, closest to the lake. The place Nick would go “talk” with him when he needed to. At first business was slow during the pandemic because they had to close the tasting room, but then they opened up an outside area and wine enthusiasts quickly converged. Covid was terrible for many aspects of the economy but not wine. People needed to relax, and Nick wanted to help them do that with the Shepherd wines. As everything opened back up, even more customers arrived, and Nick doubled the size of the winery. And then it happened—the best news of all. A wine that Nick created had won a major prize at the New York Wine Classic. It was a big deal. To celebrate, the Shepherd Winery had even closed its doors for an invitation-only event to be held that night. The whole family was coming to celebrate. His mom was proud of him. His dad would have been proud of him too. And he was sure Ivy would have been proud of him.

Ivy?he thought.How the hell did she show up in my head?Luckily more thoughts of Ivy were interrupted by his mother, Frannie, who called to him from across the vineyard.

Francine Shepherd was turning sixty that year, but you’d never know it from the way she looked. She still had her youthful figure and easy-going smile. She started running marathons after her husband died and had discovered it was both meditative and rejuvenating.

“You were right about that deck,” she told Nick.

“And you were right about the new sorrel appetizers,” he said, returning the compliment to his mom. Nick knew that he and his mom were a good team. Technically they were co-owners of Shepherd Winery even though Nick had the more important job as wine vintner.

“We doubled our numbers from last year’s Fourth of July, and that’s all because of you,” Frannie told her son.

“That’s probably why I’m so exhausted. I need a vacation.” He laughed. “More important—I need to get on my boat.” Nick smiled. “I can’t believe that it’s already July sixth and I still haven’t been on the water.”

“Maybe you’re just waiting for the right person to take out on the lake.” Frannie winked. Nick shut down. He did that whenever she wanted to talk about his dating life, or lack of it, squashing any kind of conversation with his mother about his love life. She was the last person he was going to talk to about girls, and besides, ever since the breakup with Ivy, he never liked to talk about his feelings. Preferring to keep things all corked up, just like a good bottle of wine, he thought. But Nick also knew that if something stayed corked for too long, it might turn rancid. And he realized that if he didn’t get over Ivy, he was destined to become like a bad wine that had developed a paint thinner taste.

“Come on,” Frannie said. “The banners are here!”

Nick was excited. His mom sprinted out in front. He tried to keep up. But she was fast. Nick saw his family, friends, and workers gathered in front of the winery. His sister, Denise, the local high school drama teacher, was there with her husband, Kenny, the editor-in-chief of their small-town paper. There was a young photographer with Kenny. Her name was Rory. She was a gorgeous blond with an unstoppable smile.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Ladies and gentlemen, Nick Shepherd!” Kenny called out. Everyone cheered. Nick pumped his fists in the air. He was willing to share credit, but if people wanted to cheer him—so be it.

“Great job, baby bro,” Denise said as she hugged her brother. Kenny came over, hugged him, and before Nick could ask, he was introduced to Rory.

“Nick, this is Rory. She just got a job here as a staff photographer.”

“I hope it’s all right for me to take some pictures of you,” Rory said as she nodded to Nick. She didn’t shake his hand, as that had gone out with Covid. Nick thought to himself:I wouldn’t mind anything you do.He was smiling at Rory. Maybe it was time to put the past behind and look toward the future.

A countdown had begun. Two of Nick’s best workers, Jorge and Max, were positioned on ladders on each side of the wine entrance that stretched to the roof. Five! Four! Three! Two! One!

The banner unfolded. At least one did at first. The one that announced WINNER! GOVERNOR’S CUP WINE OF THE YEAR 2021. Jorge had forgotten to untie one part. He did, and the second banner unfolded. This one said WINE OF THE YEAR 2021 on top with the picture of the wine label. And that label had a name. The wine of the year was called Poison Ivy. A cabernet franc. And the picture of a woman’s face on the label, hidden in ivy, may or may not have been Ivy Green herself. At least it was a very close facsimile.

“This is amazing!” Denise said.

“Wine of the year! Governor’s Cup!”

Rory snapped pictures of the family celebrating and of Nick holding up the Governor’s Cup like a championship trophy. Later, she also snapped one of Nick looking up at the banner. She wondered what he was thinking.

Nick reflected on Poison Ivy. His wine of the year. He remembered how it all came to be. It was a few years after the breakup. As he was rebuilding the winery, adding the decks, opening the restaurant, he also remembered being solely focused on making the perfect cab franc, hoping it would release Ivy from his thoughts. He stayed up for hours on end, mixing grapes, striving to find the perfect blend of the deep aromas of blackberry and currants, tasting over and over until he was finally satisfied. Either that or he was too exhausted to continue. And when he decided to name the wine, Poison Ivy seemed like a perfect fit.

He remembered sampling the first bottle of Poison Ivy with Denise and Kenny, the night of their wedding.

“It’s got an angry bite to it. Passionate. Nice,” Denise had said.

“What are you calling it?” Kenny had asked.

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