Page 98 of The Summer of Christmas

“It doesn’t matter. You got everything you wanted. Except for the thing that mattered the most.”

“What happened to Nick?” Ivy exclaimed. Everyone in the theater was now shushing her.Shush. Shush. Shush.

“Nick died. In the snowmobile accident. Just like you wrote it. Just like they filmed it forThe Christmas Couple.”

“The Christmas Couple. What’s that?”

“The title of your movie.”

“I like that. I should write it down.”

“You’ll remember. See…” Young Ivy indicated the scene playing on the screen. It was Ivy’s scene—the funeral scene she’d written out of anger. “You killed Nick in your story, and he died the same way a few months later. In a snowmobile accident. It’s art imitating life. You could never forgive yourself for putting that thought out into the universe. You killed him.”

“I killed Nick. This is all my fault. This is no dream. This is really happening!”

Young Ivy snickered, “How veryRosemary’s Babyof you.”

“WAKE UP! IVY, WAKE UP!” a voice started shouting. It was Carol.

Ivy came out of her deep sleep. She was shaken. But in her own bedroom.

“I heard you from the other room. You were shouting, ‘No, Nick. No.’”

“I’m okay.”

“Good,” Carol said. “Next time don’t have a Christmas cosmo without me.”

For a moment, Ivy was confused. But then she saw it—the Christmas cosmo that she’d been drinking when visiting her future. The martini glass was there. The drink was cold. Ivy sat up. Looked at her sister with fierce determination.

“I have to rewrite the ending.”

“Of the movie?” Carol asked.

“Of my life!”

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