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“I thought it might be. Ivy and I used to come out here and talk about building this place.”
“What else did you do out here?”
“Nothing. Just talked. And sometimes we didn’t even do that. We just listened to each other breathe, watching the sunset. This place has great sunsets.”
“I don’t think I could be with you alone and not do anything,” Amari offered. Nick took the bait.
“We’re alone now,” he said, surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth.
“Exactly,” Amari said as she began kissing Nick passionately. Very passionately. Yeah, Nick thought, she looked like Ivy. But she wasn’t. He was kissing Amari. “Did Ivy kiss you like this?” she asked, French-kissing him. “Or like this?” Nick grunted a yes to both.
He opened his eyes, seeing the blond hair. Just like Ivy’s. But this was Amari, and Ivy never would have made that move with her hand. He was caught up in the moment. The moment was getting bigger by the second. Nick couldn’t stop kissing Amari, but he had to. He had no choice. He had a huge erection. He jumped off the boat and into the water to cool off.
***
Ivy hoped Drew had cooled off. But he was not answering his phone. She got a text from him:KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL.Ouch. Well, it was a short shoot. Four weeks. Three weeks to go. She spent Saturday at home with her family. Her mom decided to cook a Christmas dinner. It was amazing. All of her favorites including stuffing. Her dad surprised everyone by bringing out a bag of presents. He gave Ivy a book about William Faulkner’s years in Hollywood. Her dad, ever the professor, explained that Faulkner spent a few years in Hollywood and ultimately returned home.
“Is this supposed to inspire me to move back home?”
“Entirely up to you, Ivy. I support you in whatever and whomever you choose.” There was thatwhoagain. Why did this keep coming up? “The truth is,” Mitch said, “you inspire me. You did something I was too scared to do. You wrote something, and you put it out there. You had no problem with all the rejection that befalls the creative.”
“I have a big problem with rejection. On so many levels. I love the book, Dad.” She hugged him. “You know, Dad, there’s still time. I’m sure the manuscript in your bottom desk drawer could still be dusted off.” She kissed him good night. Mitch stayed awake and started thinking about his unfinished novel.
Sunday morning, growing up, was always church. Ivy’s mom and dad were now deacons and had kept the church going during the pandemic. They set up all the video feeds to the service, checked in on all the members, and worked at the food pantry. They volunteered whether they had the time or not. Inside the Presbyterian church, her parents were rock stars and very proud to welcome her back. Ivy had grown up with this tradition. Heck, it was where the idea forWhen Joseph Met Marycame from. This was where she and Nick had done the play.
Ivy had church-shopped in LA. She had gone to a Christmas Eve service in a church near her then-apartment in Hollywood. She had recognized an actor whom she had loved when she was growing up. After two weeks of watching him, alone, she had worked up the nerve to say hello. But on that Sunday, he wasn’t there. She had learned he had made the choice to leave this earth. All the sunshine could make people sad. Everyone wanted the same thing. Chased the same dreams. Tried to stay on the merry-go-round for as long as they could. The whole entertainment industry had a severe case of FOMO. So they lied to themselves. Back home in Geneva, Ivy was adjusting to how normal life was, how down to earth everyone seemed. They cared about each other. At the church community time hour, she actually autographed some church bulletins. The cell phone in her pocket kept buzzing. She had forgotten to turn it off. She went to do so but stopped.
“Oh, hell!” she said too loudly. How could she not? There on her phone was a picture of Amari and Nick on a boat. Amari’s boobs falling out. Amari hanging all over the grinning Nick. The Amari-supplied caption read:IT’S CALLED RESEARCH, LADIES!There were close to twenty thousand comments:Who’s the boy toy? Go for it! I’d take a ride with that guy.Ivy was fuming.
“So, how’s Nick?” Reverend Jackson asked.
“I am not Nick’s keeper. He is the shepherd. He’s the one who is supposed to be watching his flock, not dumping it. Not slutting around five years later with the actress who is basically me!” Ivy blurted out—but only in her mind. In reality, all she said to the Reverend Jackson was: “I’m not sure.”
After church, and needing to get in a better mood, Ivy took a walk and stopped in to get an oat milk latte from Monaco Coffee, browsed the books in Stomping Grounds, and wound up at her mother’s Christmas store. Her mother was happy she was there. She was behind on filling orders and needed some help.
“It’s July.”
“Not to the people who came to town to make your movie. They’ve been here every day buying stuff. Christmas came early for the store. The whole town feels that way. You are our Christmas financial miracle. And in July.” That made Ivy feel so much better. She was all smiles. Her script had done this. Despite what did not turn out to be a stress-free, no-conflict weekend, it was all worth it.
Bells rang on the door as it flew open. Five eager teenagers, all wearing Griffin James T-shirts, started searching around the store. Cell phones out. Griffineers.
“Can I help you?” Ivy asked.
“We’re looking for Griffin James.” One Griffineer showed her phone filled with pictures of Griffin. “We heard he was here.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Ivy said.
“He’s in the movie!”
“What movie?” she asked.
The teens left. Then Linda said out loud: “You can come out now.” Griffin emerged from the back room. He had wandered into the Christmas store and taken refuge from his fans. Since then, he had been helping with orders all morning.
“Thank you, Linda,” he said. “Sometimes it gets to be too much.”
“No problem. I can use the help.”
“I love being an elf,” Griffin said. He turned his attention to Ivy. “And you, what a performance. ‘What movie?’ ‘I’ve never heard of him.’ You are the big sister I never had who would have always protected me.” They spent the next few hours chatting, getting to know each other, wrapping toys. Griffin was the little brother she never had. He called an Uber to take him back to the Castle but not before he bought a Christmas scarf. “I’m going to wear it for the ice-skating scene tomorrow.”
“I think Vera will love it.”
“See you on the set. Get some rest. Week two is when things get really weird. Strange weather. Cover sets. Tech failures. Hookups. Breakups.” And he was gone.
Ivy’s mother asked: “There’s an ice-skating scene? How are they going to do that in July?”
“It’s the movies, Mom. They can do anything. They can make you think rich people are unhappy, hard work always pays off, and love conquers all.”
“And don’t forget the Christmas miracle,” Linda added with a smile.
Ivy laughed. The Christmas miracle was a trope of Christmas movies and books since Charles Dickens had rebranded the holiday with his bookA Christmas Carol.It was the one trope that Ivy didn’t believe in. How could she? It was July.
