Page 91 of The Summer of Christmas

“I love that lake house,” Kenny said.

“I don’t. I don’t want to live there… I don’t want to live there without her. I don’t want to live there without Ivy.”

“Sometimes you have to move on, Nick,” Denise said.

“Can I live with you?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “I can live in the small guest room.”

“You can’t, Nick. There’s something we should tell you,” Kenny said.

“No, Kenny, we shouldn’t tell him yet.”

“Tell me what?” Nick said.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” Kenny answered excitedly.

“I’m having a baby!” Denise beamed.

Nick lit up. Forgetting about his worries. “Congratulations!” He realized that everyone else in his family was moving on. It made him feel sad to be so stuck.

Denise noticed he was sad again. “You look tired, Nick. A good night’s sleep will help. Here…” She took out a bottle of Ambien and handed Nick a tablet. Kenny helped him to the back office, where he put Nick on the couch so he could sleep.

***

The fog rolled in just after midnight. He heard a door open and someone calling “Hello?” Nick sat up, as foggy as the night. He stumbled out of the office and into the tasting room.

A stranger was at the bar. He saw Nick.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. I didn’t mean to get here so late,” the stranger said. He was about five-ten. In his late sixties. Wearing a New York Mets hat.

“Dad?” Nick said. He stumbled forward and hugged the man before the stranger had a chance to respond. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

The stranger, who looked like Nick’s dad, said, “The place looks amazing. It’s been a few years.”

“Do you like it, Dad?”

“It looks great, son.”

Nick was now bouncing off the wall. Showing his dad everything he’d done to rebuild the winery.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

“Remember I told you how I wanted to do it when I was, like, eleven? And I took a saw to the old tasting bar.”

“Yes…”

“And you didn’t get mad. You said, Nick, I believe in your dream, son. Now, please put down the power saw.”

His dad was worried about him. “Nick, you said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah. You’re really the only person I could talk to about these things.”

“What things?”

Nick held up a half-finished bottle of Poison Ivy. His dad took it from him, poured himself a drink.

“This is really good.”

“Wine of the year, Dad.”