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“Poison Ivy,” Nick had said. He had not known if he was doing it for memory or malice. He had only known it felt like the perfect name.
“Will you be shipping to LA?” Denise had asked.
“Maybe someday. Not now,” Nick had replied. So, he was safe. Nick had a high school friend, Tugg, a tattoo artist, design the label. Tugg had also known Ivy in high school. The first presentable batch came a year later. Nick remembered pasting decorative labels onto a case of Poison Ivy wine bottles. The image on the labels was of a young woman’s face who just happened to look a lot like his ex-girlfriend, Ivy. Green vines twisted over the pretty face. It was the same image that was on the banner.
Poison Ivy was an instant classic. Nick had no choice but to put the award-winning cab franc into the yearly production. The Shepherd Winery gift store was quickly filled with T-shirts and hats with the wordsPick Your Poison, and no one was more chagrined than Nick when Poison Ivy became their best-selling wine. Even though Nick had been the one to break up, he had initially felt that Ivy had driven him to that moment. He recalled thinking that she had changed and was no longer the girl he had fallen in love with. He had always believed they wanted the same things, until she encouraged him to move away from his family. That was not the Ivy he remembered. Nick had always imagined their life together here. Not there. In LA where the old joke was there was notherethere. He had meant the wine to be a limited production, but his mother entered it into the New York Wine Classic, which was known as the Oscars of New York wine competitions. Poison Ivy surprised everyone, most of all Nick, when it was recognized as the Best of Show and won the most prestigious award of the competition, the Governor’s Cup, which was a large silver chalice.
Upon winning the top prize in the New York Wine Classic, the Shepherd Winery became an overnight sensation. They were suddenly thrust onto the map of the best wineries to visit in the Finger Lakes. Everyone wanted to stop by and taste Poison Ivy. “Give me some poison” was what Nick heard at least once a day. And over the Fourth of July, it was especially popular. Everyone loved to joke about drinking the poison. Nick was probably the only one who didn’t want to drink the cabernet franc. He’d tasted the real Poison Ivy. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d lost. He wanted to dump the wine out and never make another bottle.
Now here they were in the winery, getting ready for the party to be held that night. The party to celebrate Nick’s success.
“If Ivy ever finds out you made a wine called Poison Ivy, she will buy a bottle and smash it over your head,” his sister said. Nick wanted to pick up the phone and confide in Ivy, but after what he’d done to her, he just couldn’t make the call. He hadn’t heard from Ivy since that awful day of their breakup when he did what he felt he had to do. He did stalk her a little bit online and learned that she was doing well, which made him feel good. But then Covid hit, and she seemed to disappear off social media. He hoped she was okay.
“She’s never going to find out. She’s off in La-La Land, la-la-ing away.” She was living her life, and Nick was going to start living his. And that was what he intended to do that night at the party. Before he left Nick invited the photographer, Rory, to swing by the party, under the pretense that she could take some pictures.
Nick cold-showered away the past, slipped on a tight T-shirt and jeans, and returned to the winery. The nighttime celebration party was in full swing. His mom had insisted on cooking the food, and it was out of this world. But where was Kenny? His best friend brother-in-law was nowhere in sight. Denise said something was happening back at the newspaper office and he would be there soon. Nick made the rounds thanking everyone, handing out bonuses. Not a big bonus, but a bonus. They weren’t just his workers. They were his family.
Nick saw Rory sitting alone at the bar in front of the Governor’s Cup. “Having a good time?” he asked.
“I am. But it just got better. Hey, can I get a picture of you standing in front of the Governor’s Cup?” Nick went behind the bar. Smiled and posed with the shiny silver cup.
“How’s this?” he asked. He leaned across the bar to talk more closely with Rory.
“Not bad, Nick Shepherd. Not bad at all.” She was admiring the picture she took. “So, what’s the real story of Poison Ivy? Who is the wine named after? Kenny talks a little loudly, and I couldn’t help but overhear some things. Who was she?”
“Kid crush. Middle school romance. High school sweethearts. Long-distance lovers which never worked. We were geographically incompatible.”
“I’m liking it here more and more,” Rory said.
Nick leaned closer to her. Smiling. And who knew what might have happened between them if…if Kenny hadn’t rushed in with copies of tomorrow’s edition of theGeneva Gazette. He passed around a few newspapers on his way in, and suddenly everyone at the party was buzzing about something other than the award-winning wine. Kenny and Denise rushed up to Nick. Kenny went to hand him the paper. Denise pulled it back.
“Nick, don’t freak out,” she said.
“Freak out? Why would I freak out?”
Nick grabbed the paper. On the cover was the headline: HOLLYWOOD COMING TO GENEVA! The article had something to do with a movie coming to film in town.
“Oh, they’re going to film a movie here. That will be great for business,” he said.
“Oh yeah,” Kenny said. “It’s great for the town. Hotels. Coffee shops. Wineries.”
“So what’s the problem?” Nick asked.
“It’s a movie calledWhen Joseph Met Mary.Does that sound familiar?” Kenny asked.
“Is it a religious movie?” Rory wondered.
“No,” Nick said. “It’s not.” He read the article—or rather scanned it. There she was in the press: the project, written by former Geneva resident Ivy Green, was to begin production in a week.
“I’m really not interested,” he lied.
“That makes you an anomaly. The whole town is already going crazy,” Kenny enthused.
But Nick wasn’t listening because he was realizing that for the first time in five years, he might actually see Ivy again. His plan to try to forget her was clearly failing. Once again, the universe had other plans for him. Nick was flooded with thoughts—the way it was when he would pour wine flights to a winery full of customers. He needed all the voices in his head to drink and be quiet. “I wonder if the script is about us. Ivy and I did meet at a Christmas pageant,” Nick said.
“Wow. That would suck.” Kenny grinned. “I wonder what the sex scenes would be like.”
Nick gave a small smile at the memory.
“Oh, is that a smile?”
“Shut up,” he said. But he was laughing too. “I wonder who is going to play me?”
“Griffin James,” Kenny told him.
“Griffin James? I’d do him,” Rory said.
“Who the hell is Griffin James?” Nick exclaimed.
