Page 25 of The Summer of Christmas

“Great! And get me the train schedule so we know what times the trains pass during the day. I want to make sure we’re filming when the train roars past!” Vera yelled over the train whistle blowing in the distance. They all got back in the van and went on the winery scout.

Ivy smiled. As the writer, she knew it was a privilege to be on the set. She wanted to be in Vera’s good graces and not cause trouble. She also wanted her movie to be a hit. But after Bruce announced, “I have a list of thirteen wineries to look at,” Ivy couldn’t help interrupting again.

“Can I see the list?” Ivy asked. She had a pit in her stomach, hoping Nick’s winery wouldn’t be on it. Drew handed over the list of possible winery locations. And there it was, number thirteen—Shepherd Winery. Ivy blanched. She needed to convince them to use a different winery before they arrived at number thirteen.

Ivy read the list out loud. “Peters Winery. That might work. They’re a small place that would probably let us use it because my sister used to babysit the owner’s kids when she was in high school.” Ivy continued to look down the list. “Curtis Winery is really nice too. Owned by a Syracuse couple. They have some great ice wines.” But as they visited each winery on the list, nothing was pleasing to Vera or Drew. They didn’t even stop in at numbers six through eight. When they got to number ten, Ivy was getting more and more anxious. They were getting closer to the unlucky number thirteen: Shepherd Winery. Nick’s winery. Ivy started pushing back, irritating Vera. She even started suggesting the staging of a shot. The director’s job. Not the writer’s.

Drew pulled her aside. “What are you doing, Ivy?”

“We passed so many good wineries. Curtis was great. SabAva had outdoor seating,” Ivy told him.

“You want to keep things professional, keep it professional. You are the writer. Vera is the director. It is not your job to choose a location. Do you want to get kicked off the set of your own movie a day before it begins filming?”

Ivy didn’t like what Drew was saying, but she didn’t disagree with him.

They all got back into the van. Lane took out his list and punched in the address for Shepherd Winery in the GPS. Drew noticed that Ivy was tense. “Don’t worry, Ivy. We’ll find a location.” Drew had no idea what was really bothering Ivy, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Up ahead they saw…a large sign for Shepherd Winery that pointed toward the lake. It was like a beacon guiding them in the right direction. It was also the best-looking winery sign they’d seen. Beautifully painted. Great logo. Ivy felt her stomach doing somersaults. She wanted to throw up. They turned onto the long driveway toward the water. As they got closer to the winery Vera squealed, “I love it!”

Ivy was stunned. This wasn’t the Shepherd Winery that she remembered. It was so much grander. And yet in spite of its size, it had retained its mom-and-pop charm.

“This is it! It’s so authentic! I’ve got to film here!” Vera yelled excitedly.

“We haven’t even been inside,” Ivy said.

“I like how it’s set back from the road. Not going to have any sound issues,” Drew said.

“And there’s plenty of parking for our trucks,” Bruce added.

“And it’s on the lake. It’s perfect!” Lane said.

Ivy didn’t say a word.

“Have you ever been here before?” Drew wondered.

“A few times,” Ivy said, which was such a lie. She’d gone to the old Shepherd Winery almost every day after school during her senior year.

“Because the girl on that banner looks a lot like you and she has your name,” Drew said as he looked at her oddly.

Ivy looked up. How did she miss it? Maybe she was too busy looking for Nick. Hanging from the eaves of the winery was a giant banner for “Poison Ivy—winner of the Governor’s Cup.”

The group pushed the heavy oak door and walked inside. There was a table filled with Poison Ivy cab franc wine bottles. Ivy recoiled when she looked closely at the label as she recognized the woman’s face that was covered by ivy vines. It looked like her! Since when had she given permission to be the face of a wine that was derogatory to her name? Around the wine bottles were Poison Ivy T-shirts, coasters, and bar towels. Ivy was horrified. Her face was on all of them. She was furious.

Vera looked at Ivy, curious. “What’s going on here? Is this you?”

Things got worse whenhewalked in. Nick was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt. Ivy wondered when he’d gotten so buff. His arm muscles were sculpted, and his chest was expanded. She couldn’t see his stomach, but she had a feeling that he had one of those “six-packs” as it looked concave and his shirt tucked easily into his slim-cut pants. She hated to admit it, but he still looked good. Too good. A bit older and more weathered but still sexy. She pushed those feelings down deep and focused on her anger. She was determined that this was not going to be a happy reunion. She called out to Nick. Everyone in the bar was suddenly watching them. Except for Drew and Vera, who had wandered into another room.

“Poison Ivy? Really? What did I ever do to you?” Ivy asked Nick.

He looked startled to see her. Even though he knew that Ivy was in town, he still wasn’t ready for this moment. He searched for the right thing to say and stumbled with: “It’s a cab franc. Just won wine of the year at the New York Wine Classic.” What an idiot he sounded like, and he knew it.

“So it says on the banner. I do know how to read,” Ivy said in an icy voice.

“Good for you,” Nick returned. And before he knew it, things got ugly. He had meant to be all zen, and this certainly wasn’t the calm demeanor he’d wanted to project when he first saw Ivy again.

“Last that I remember, I never gave you permission to use my face on your wine bottle.”

“It’s a facsimile. And last that I remember, I didn’t allow you to kill me off in a snowmobile accident in your movie. How long did you spend thinking about that one?”

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