A Wright Christmas

But as we came to a crawl before the main building used for wine tastings and dinner, my eyes lit up.

“Is that…” I whispered.

My jaw dropped. The vineyard was awash in Christmas lights. Every color imaginable lined row after row of grape vines. They seemingly went on forever. A light display that even outdid my father’s amazing work on his home.

No one had told me that they were doing this. I’d had no clue. And I had no idea how it hadn’t come up.

“Surprise,” Isaac said with a grin.

“How is this possible?”

“It was supposed to be a coming-home surprise for you. Your dad has been working on it for over a month. When Piper found out we were going out, she said I should take you here. I think they were planning to show it off to you, but she graciously let me do it.”

“This is amazing,” I gushed. “I can’t believe they were able to keep it a secret.”

“It is rather unlike them,” he agreed.

He parked out front of the mostly empty building, which was as large as a warehouse with a church-like facade. I’d never understood the significance of styling it as such, but people oohed and aahed over the terra-cotta roof and high-vaulted ceiling.

I jumped down out of the truck and turned my attention to the fields beyond the winery. I couldn’t believe that they had done all of this for my return. Maybe my family had missed me being gone more than I’d realized.

Isaac gestured for us to head toward the building, but once we were close, we veered left toward a small booth with three large stainless steel thermos dispensers and a heater. Two college–aged kids sat behind the booth, holding hands and staying warm with the portable outdoor heater.

They jumped apart at our approach.

“Hi!” a wide-eyed girl said, her curly hair barely contained in her beanie. “Welcome to Sinclair Cellars. We have mulled wine, spiked hot chocolate, and cider.”

“Two mulled wines,” Isaac said, handing over his credit card and two paper tickets.

The guy, who was in a leather jacket and looked like he thought he was the coolest guy in existence, tapped the card on their machine and then handed it back with the two drinks.

“Enjoy the lights!” the girl said, already nuzzling back into her boyfriend as Isaac diverted us from the booth.

I held the beverage between my hands, grateful for its warmth. “They sure bring back memories.”

“How many times did your dad corral us into working the hay rides in the fall?”

I groaned. “Too many to count. Though Piper still complains that I never helped out enough because of dance.”

“I do remember lots of dancing, but I also remember sneaking off into the vineyards and making out.”

“Oh my God,” I said, covering my face, “I forgot all about that.”

“How could you forget? We used to sneak out every shift.”

“I know. I remember now. I just haven’t thought of that in so long.”

“We’d shirk half of our shift.”

“The real reason Piper would get mad that I wasn’t helping enough.”

Isaac shrugged. “Worth it.”

And it had been. Now that all the memories were flooding back to me, I couldn’t stop thinking about us out here every fall, helping my dad with the hay rides and then creeping off into the vines to escape the crowds. The feel of Isaac’s fingers on my bare skin, tangled in my long hair, running down my back. The taste of him against my lips. The inability to think of anything but him in his presence. It had been a long time since I’d had that primal reaction to anything other than dance. It was a part of me, but Isaac intrinsically was, too.

My face heated at my wandering thoughts, and I was glad for the dark evening and the bright Christmas lights to hide behind.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, taking out his phone. “Piper said if I dialed into the radio station on my phone, it would play music the whole way.”

He fiddled with the app that he’d downloaded ahead of time, and sure enough, “Frosty the Snowman” began to play. He shoved it into his back pocket. The music was a little muffled but not by much.

“So, what’s it like, being the artistic director?” he asked as we took the first turn, following the directions to navigate the lights.

“Magical,” I said softly. “But also difficult.”

“Difficult because it’s new?”

“Yes, and no. I’ve choreographed before and run rehearsals. It’s part of being a dancer. Most professionals have some experience with it. But this feels like more than that. This is being in charge of the entire artistic direction of a company. It’s a lot of pressure. The Nutcracker is the biggest event of the season.”

“But you know every role. You’ve done this a thousand times.”

“You’re right. That part makes it easier. And it is wonderful. I love working with the company, especially the younger students.” I took a long, soothing sip of my wine. “If I’m honest, I always thought I would become a director like this once my dance career was over. This just feels earlier than normal.”