Chapter 3 #2
Bennett’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re serious.”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” she said.
She squeezed his arm, feeling a little giddy and reckless in a way she hadn’t in ages. Maybe it was the wine, or the end of the summer’s demands, or just the sheer absurdity of being invited to stomp grapes in a wooden vat under the stars.
“We’re sleeping here tonight anyway,” she said. “No driving, no responsibilities. Just us and a vat full of grapes.”
Shelly grabbed Ivy’s hand. “Come on, when was the last time we did anything outrageous?”
The crowd cheered. Emilie clapped her hands together, delighted. “Let’s go get ready.”
The four of them followed Emilie to the house. Inside a room off the kitchen, the air smelled of dried lavender that hung from the beams. Emilie gestured to a rack of white sheets fashioned into togas.
The linen was soft and worn thin in places, carrying the subtle scent of lavender. “Last year these were Halloween ghost costumes, and tonight they’re our togas. Ivy, here’s one for you.”
Emilie demonstrated the wrapping technique with practiced efficiency, pinning the sheet at one shoulder and gathering it at the waist with another strip of cloth.
Tristan had already changed. He was tall, and his toga ended just above his knees. “Be sure to put your swimsuits underneath.”
With relief, Ivy saw that Emilie had laid out their swimsuits for them. At least they’d have that.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Bennett said, chuckling.
Mitch elbowed him. “Think of the photos, dude.”
They changed in minutes with more laughter than skill. Bennett struggled with his toga until Ivy fixed it for him. The sheet was cool against her skin. Shelly emerged from the other room looking excited with her hair pinned up and her feet bare.
Shelly grinned. “Aren’t you glad you got that pedicure now?”
They filed back outside to whoops and applause. The torches burned brightly, throwing flickering shadows across the vat. They sat down on a wooden bench beside buckets of water.
“And now for the ceremonial foot washing,” Emilie said. She splashed water over everyone’s feet.
When they were all cleaned and dried, Tristan gestured toward the vat. A wooden ladder leaned against its side, the rungs worn smooth.
Carol Reston’s voice rose above the rest. “Show us how it’s done, Mr. Mayor.”
Bennett shot Ivy a look that said, “This was your idea,” before climbing the ladder with exaggerated dignity.
The toga billowed around his legs. At the top, he paused, peering down into the purple mass below.
The torchlight flickered across his face, catching the uncertainty there before he masked it with a grin.
“Here goes.” He stepped in.
The wet crunch made guests laugh. Bennett’s expression shifted to surprise as his feet sank ankle-deep into fruit.
He chuckled and reached for Ivy. “Don’t leave me in here alone.”
Ivy eyed the vat, having second thoughts. She glanced at Tristan. “Is this sanitary? You’re not actually going to use these grapes for wine, are you?”
Tristan appeared at her elbow, grinning. “No, no. Don’t worry. These are leftovers from the harvest. It’s tradition. You see, the Romans believed crushing the first grapes with bare feet brought good fortune for the vintage. Mostly it’s just fun.”
Bennett braced himself against the vat’s rim, testing his balance. Grape skins clung to his calves. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
Ivy hesitated on the ladder.
Bennett reached for her, swooping her into his arms and lifting her over the edge, then lowering her into the vat.
She gasped as her feet hit the grapes. The fruit gave way like wet sand, cold and slick, and she sank past her ankles. The sensation shot up her legs as grapes collapsed under her weight. Juice seeped between her toes, and she grabbed Bennett’s shoulders to keep from slipping.
“Oh, my gosh.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “This is wild.”
Bennett tried to shift his weight, but his foot slid sideways. He caught himself on the vat’s edge, his knuckles white against the stained wood.
Laughing, Ivy helped him up, cool pulp squelching with every tiny movement. She found very little solid ground, just layers and layers of slippery fruit.
The crowd howled with laughter and cheered them on.
Ivy waved to Shelly and Mitch. “You have to come in.”
She clung to Bennett as he attempted a step. His leg disappeared to mid-calf and emerged dripping. Purple stains crept up their shins.
Emilie climbed the ladder with the confidence of one who’d done this before. She gathered her toga, stepped in, and waded toward them like she was crossing a shallow stream.
“You have to keep moving,” Emilie called over the music. Her feet made soft crushing sounds with each step. “If you stand still too long, you sink.”
Shelly and Mitch were laughing so hard they could hardly climb the ladder.
Tristan followed Emilie. They formed an unsteady circle with Ivy and Bennett, each of them gripping another’s shoulder for balance. The grapes shifted constantly beneath them.
“Ready?” Tristan raised a hand. “Let’s crush it!”
They began to stomp to the music.
It was chaos. The grapes burst and sprayed, and juice spattered their togas. Ivy lifted her knees high, trying to find a rhythm. Bennett laughed and nearly went down again.
Shelly and Mitch were at the top of the ladder, laughing at them.
Ivy nodded to her sister. “You got us into this, so you’d better join us.”
“We’re coming,” Mitch said. He scooped an arm under Shelly’s legs and stepped to the vat’s edge.
Their friends roared their approval.
With her arms wrapped around Mitch’s neck, Shelly laughed. “Woo-hoo, here we come. Don’t you dare drop me.”
With Shelly clinging to him, Mitch mounted the ladder one-handed. At the top, he paused, adjusting his grip, and stepped in.
Ivy saw the exact moment he misjudged the weight distribution.
Still holding Shelly, Mitch came down on a particularly slick patch of pulverized grapes. His feet shot out from under him, and Shelly screamed.
They hit with a tremendous splash that sent grapes splattering in all directions.
Shelly shrieked as Mitch disappeared under the purple mass.
Ivy and the rest of them stumbled, grabbing the vat’s rim for support. They all dissolved with laughter as their friends cheered them on, capturing the action in photos and videos.
Mitch surfaced first, spitting grape skins, his toga plastered to his chest. Grape pulp clung to his hair and eyebrows, and his blond hair was purple now.
Shelly was beside him, gasping and laughing. She tried to stand and immediately slipped again, catching herself on Mitch’s shoulder.
“You dropped me,” she said, grinning.
“I slipped, babe.” Mitch wiped his eyes, smearing more juice across his face. “There’s no traction in here. It’s like ice skating in fruit.”
Their friends had gone wild, cheering and whistling. Someone started a new chant, though Ivy couldn’t make out the words over the music. Her stomach ached from laughing.
Emilie waded toward them, somehow managing to look graceful even hip-deep in crushed grapes. “You’re such a good sport. This is why we asked you to bring swimsuits and stay overnight. After we clean up, we’ll relax in the hot tub.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Ivy said, chuckling. “I had no idea we were going to be the entertainment. What a blast, though.”
Next to her, Bennett was stomping with full commitment now. The vat trembled under their combined movement.
Shelly gave up standing. Instead, she sat waist-deep in the grapes, howling with laughter, while Mitch attempted to pull her upright. Every time he got her halfway up, his feet would slip, and they’d collapse again into a fresh explosion of fruit.
“Come on,” Tristan called over the music. “Let’s finish with style.”
They all helped Shelly and Mitch stand and formed a ragged circle. They managed to stomp sort of in unison to the music for nearly a minute.
Ivy couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun.
Their friends cheered and cameras flashed. Carol Reston had claimed a prime spot near the torches, directing video angles like she was staging a production. Ivy caught a glimpse of her own shadow, looking like a giant figure dancing in a vat of grapes.
The absurdity of it hit her again. She was stomping grapes in a makeshift toga while people filmed the mayor of Summer Beach doing the same thing. This would be all over social media by morning.
She didn’t care at all.
Her feet found rhythm in the chaos, and Bennett’s hand found hers. Their skin was sticky with pulp.
“We did it, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand and raised it overhead in victory.
Someone in the crowd whistled.
Emilie directed them to cluster at the vat’s center. “Everyone together now. Let’s get the final photos.”
They pressed close, arms around shoulders, trying not to slip. The grapes shifted beneath them. Ivy felt Bennett’s strong arms around her as Shelly clung to her on the other side for dear life.
Ivy tilted her face skyward. Stars pierced the darkness above, more visible here than in Summer Beach, away from the coastal fog and town lights. The Milky Way stretched overhead.
This is living in the moment, she thought, filled with happiness.
Bennett turned his face to hers. “I love you for going along with this.”
“I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” She laughed and kissed him, tasting grapes on his lips.
“Time to shower,” Emilie called out. “This way, allons-y.”
Tristan offered strong hands to help them up and out. Ivy’s legs trembled as she gripped the rungs. Whether from exertion or laughter or too much wine, she couldn’t tell. Her feet left purple prints on each wooden step.
“The outdoor showers are this way,” Emilie said, leading them around the side of the house. Fresh robes hung on hooks nearby.
Ivy and Bennett peeled off their togas and sprayed each other off in their swimsuits, still chuckling at the absurdity of what they’d done and the unexpected fun. They slipped into the plush robes provided and strolled to the hot tub.
The party was breaking up, with the rest of the guests staying on the property making their way to their rooms and cottages.
Ivy eased into the foaming hot water beside Bennett. “That was the most fun I’ve had in months.”
Across from them, Shelly climbed in next to Mitch. Grinning, she added, “You needed to let loose a little, Ives. Didn’t I tell you it would be fun?”
Bennett pulled Ivy close. “What a way to start a new season.”
“That was awesome, dude.” Mitch positioned himself by a jet. “The only question is how, do we top that for Thanksgiving?”
Ivy splashed her sister. “We’ll find a way, won’t we, Shells?”