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Chapter 1
Ivy Green knew it wasn’t real. She knew everything she was looking at was fake. The snow that floated down from the sky on a winter night. Fake. The aroma of hot chocolate that filled her senses. Fake. The perfect voices from the unseen Christmas carolers singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” that was piped in from the trolley whose tracks began at the Nordstrom’s, ran past the Apple Store, and reached its destination at the old Farmers’ Market. Fake. There was nary a caroler in sight, but the music was grand.
Of course it was fake, it was Los Angeles. Christmas at the Grove. So perfect for Hollywood. They didn’t call it the dream factory for nothing. It didn’t bother Ivy in the least. She loved everything about the make-believe fantasy of the outdoor mall. It was Los Angeles and Hollywood at their best, playing with emotions. Making people believe their dreams could come true.
Yet Ivy’s dreams were coming true. Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved the movies. Her third-grade teacher once called her parents in for a conference when Ivy brought a DVD ofPulp Fictionto school and played it for her classmates. Her dad taking her to seeKill Bill: Volume 1that year might not have been the best idea. Her mom countered Tarantino with the movies of Nora Ephron. Ivy remembered lovingWhen Harry Met Sallythe first time that she saw it. Although she had no idea why Meg Ryan was moaning in the Katz Deli scene until years later. With her movie-loving parents exposing her to the world of film, there was no other dream that Ivy was ever going to follow. She convinced her high school librarian to obtain a subscription toVariety, the Hollywood “newspaper.” She fantasized about moving to Hollywood and breaking into the business. Not as an actor. Not as a director. But as a writer. Now, approaching her final semester at USC Film School, armed with a well-received (by her faculty advisors) screenplay, she was starting to feel like she had a chance.
Ivy’s other dream, also since she was a little girl, was to marry Nick Shepherd. Nick and Ivy met when they were eight years old and had been together, in one way or another, ever since. Now, at the age of twenty-two, Ivy was confident that her dreams were becoming a reality. She had no idea how real things were going to get.
“Look at the snow, Nick,” Ivy enthused as she squeezed his arm.
Nick looked up at the snow being propelled from machines on the top of the movie marquee. He was mildly amused and unimpressed. “It’s fifty-five degrees and people are wearing Canada Goose coats.” Nick was in his leather jacket and blue jeans. He was visiting Ivy for the holidays from their hometown. He was six-one, naturally fit from working year-round at his parents’ vineyard.
They had been together for a long time, growing up together in Geneva, New York, meeting when they played Mary and Joseph for a church nativity pageant. Geneva was a small town on the shores of Seneca Lake, in Upstate New York in the heart of the Finger Lakes. Ivy and Nick had gone to elementary school together (where their mutual crush started), middle school (where they were always passing notes to each other in class), and high school (where they had their first kiss) and won “best couple” in the yearbook. They were always together until college.
When Ivy went west to California, Nick stayed local: learning to be a vintner at Cornell University in the neighboring town of Ithaca. He loved making wine and working at the family winery. And he loved Ivy. They had been together forever and always. During college, they perfected the long-distance relationship. They were both so focused on their craft and doing well at school that they had never even considered dating other people. They saw each other in the summer. The first summer, at least. After that, Ivy started getting summer internships at Hollywood production companies and Nick went off to Napa to study at a vineyard. Their schedules didn’t line up, and they didn’t see each other. But they always had Christmas. Every year from December fifteenth to January fifteenth, they were inseparable in their hometown.
Nick was visiting Los Angeles for the first time. Ivy had planned a great tourist-filled week that included Disneyland, a hike up to the Hollywood sign, a ride on the roller coaster at the Santa Monica Pier, and sunset at the Malibu Winery. Ivy also wanted to take Nick down to Olvera Street, the birthplace of LA, for an authentic Mexican Christmas. She had a goal: to have Nick fall in love with LA and join her on the West Coast. Her plan all started at the Grove. They both loved Christmas, and there was nothing more Christmassy in LA than the giant decorated tree at the outdoor shopping mall.
“Nick, have you ever seen a Christmas tree this big? It’s taller than the one at Rockefeller Center.”
“Is it real?” he asked.
“Does it matter? It brings joy. Like Santa…” Ivy alluded to the decorative giant Santa overhead in his sleigh being pulled by his reindeer over the tree.
“You like all this?” Nick wondered.
“I love it.”
Ivy took his hand and led him closer to the crowded fountain. The water “danced” to every Christmas song that played on the speakers. Green-and-red lights bounced off the dancing fountain, which gave it all a magical, seasonal effect. Ivy had fallen in love with the movie business and Los Angeles during the last four years at USC Film School. She loved everything about the city of dreams and was hoping Nick would too. Especially with the big news she had to tell him. And ask him. She looked up at the Christmas star high on the tree, closed her eyes, and made a silent wish that his answer would be yes.
“Nick, I have to ask you…”
“I’m not Nick,” the oversized dad said, trying to get closer to the fountains with his family. “Can you take our picture?” Ivy was glad to help out.
Ivy took their phone. The family posed. Smiled. Ivy stopped and said, “The framing is a little off. How about Mom on that side? Two kids in front.” She checked the shot. “Still not working for me. Waiting for the fountain…and the lights to change. Don’t move. One, two, three. Got it!”
The family looked at the shot. It was perfect. “That’s an amazing picture. Thank you,” the mom said.
“Are you, like, a film director or something?” the dad asked.
“A screenwriter,” Ivy told them.
“Anything we’ve seen?” the daughter wondered.
“Not yet, but soon, I hope.” Ivy smiled. It was time to tell Nick her good news and her plans. Their plans. Ivy always thought of her life as a movie. So, what would happen next—to use a screenwriting term—was a real turning point in her life. Also known as awhammo!
Ivy said goodbye to the nice family and turned to where Nick last stood. But Nick wasn’t there. He was gone. The Grove wasn’t just crowded, it was packed. It was a private-public outdoor mall filled with decorated Christmas stores, a Santa booth, and oversized hanging ornaments. It ran about three blocks, built on a place that used to be Gilmore Park, which was once a theme park for the preschool crowd. But where was Nick? He was always one to run off and explore. She saw him outside of the Apple Store, on his phone. “There you are,” Ivy said. Nick quickly put away the phone.
“Sorry,” he said, “I needed some Wi-Fi. I just checked the weather. It’s sixty degrees here, but it’s twelve degrees back home.”
“It still feels cold to me. I think your blood thins when you live out here.”
Nick took his leather jacket and wrapped it around her. Ivy noticed his tight-fitting Shepherd Winery T-shirt. His family winery. The one Nick’s parents had started. The logo was a shepherd tending a flock of wine.
“That’s a new logo,” Ivy said.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
