Excerpt #3
“I’m listening,” Will said.
“Midlevel prod-co, but they’ve put out some solid stuff in the last few years. Good reputation for management and delivering on time. It’s a quick shoot—three weeks max—so you can be in and out in the time you need to move your dad.”
“Three weeks?” Will said. “What kind of movie shoots in three weeks?” Of the four films that Will had directed over the past six years, filming had taken place over the course of months, rather than weeks.
The content required for a feature-length film, the locations and sets involved…
The shoots always felt like a mini lifetime.
He had friends in the commercial business who shot over days, but an entire movie in three weeks?
Not the kind of movies he was now used to dealing in.
“Well, about that…” Richard said. “Listen, before I tell you the details, I have to say, they’re packaging it as a kind of…‘Barbenheimer’ situation.”
“Like it’s going to be aired next to a fluffy Barbie film?”
Richard cleared his throat on the other end. “You didn’t like the Barbie movie?”
He liked Barbie fine. In fact, he’d had drinks a week earlier with Greta Gerwig, whom he admired very much.
“Just give me the scoop,” he said. He noticed the teenage girl at the front desk giving him a look, like she knew very well he was loitering to take advantage of the air-conditioning.
He gave her a quick wave, then pretended to leaf through a book about Nantucket’s indigenous Wampanoag roots.
“It’s a Christmas movie,” Richard spat out, as though if he said it quickly enough, Will would forget and move on to the other details. “They think it’ll get great press if a director like you is involved.”
Will groaned. The only great Christmas movie, in his mind, was The Dead , John Huston’s adaptation of the short story by James Joyce.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Richard continued.
“But listen. It’s filming right on Main Street in Sunset County.
A week of prep, a few weeks shooting, two or three contingency days.
It’s an even better situation than you were looking for.
You said you wanted to be back in Brooklyn as quickly as possible, remember? ”
Will paused. He’d initially asked Richard to find him a project anywhere near the vicinity of Sunset County, his hometown and where his father still lived.
But Main Street? That was a five-minute drive from his Dad’s house, and would make his trip to Sunset County that much easier.
He had business to take care of, but he needed something to keep him busy while he was there if he were to maintain his sanity.
Maybe a fluffy movie like this, one that he could direct in his sleep while he took care of everything with his dad, was just what he needed. His business in Sunset County could be wrapped up in a few weeks, if everything went according to plan. “Tell me more,” Will said.
He listened as Richard gave him a more detailed rundown of the project.
“Send me the synopsis,” Will said.
“Hold on,” Richard said. “I’m sending it right now.”
Will let himself out of the air-conditioned gift shop into the humid summer air and found a bench in the shade. He switched the call to speakerphone and opened the attachment from Richard’s email.
“Love on the Slopes?” Will said incredulously and started to scroll.
He scanned over the treatment, which confirmed everything he knew.
He was a terrible choice for this project.
“Set in the quaint town of Garrison Creek. A high-end wedding planner from the city named Sarah comes to the charming town to plan a wedding at the town’s ski lodge, owned by her cynical ex-boyfriend Ben, who has a strict no-wedding policy…
” He continued scanning the document. “Wait. What’s a… rein-dog parade ?”
Richard cleared his throat. “There’s a parade of dogs dressed as reindeer. It’s a Garrison Creek tradition.”
Will couldn’t help but scoff and noted the amused looks on the faces of a young couple who passed by hand-in-hand holding ice cream cones.
Not only did it sound ridiculous, but wrangling a bunch of dogs on set sounded like his version of hell.
“I don’t know about this,” he said. “And you’re telling me there’s nothing else shooting in the area in the next few months? ”
“Other than this, it’s dry,” Richard said.
Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Three weeks. He could do three weeks.
Until he saw something at the bottom of the document that made him do a double take. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, then sat back on the bench. He read it twice to be sure.
Adapted from the novel Love on the Slopes by Maya Monroe.
Maya Monroe. Just the sight of her name awakened something deep and unsteady inside him. Was it the same Maya Monroe?
Of course it was. Maya loved romance and always dreamed of being a storyteller, whether it was through her involvement in the school’s drama department or the litany of short stories she was always tucking into his backpack, then demanding feedback on, as though he had anything to say about the cheesy romances.
He took a long, steadying breath. How could it be that his high school sweetheart still had this effect on him? He thought about the women he’d dated over the past fifteen years: models, actresses, some of the most accomplished and interesting women on the planet.
And yet, a flash of Maya’s fiery red hair, the memory of her lips—soft, sweet, unforgettable—or the spark in her eyes when he’d so much as suggested a tweak in her performance as the director of the musical in their senior year, reduced him to nothing. He was toast.
The next few months were supposed to be devoted to researching and writing his screenplay.
A serious drama, based on the life of one of the country’s most enigmatic writers, who only gained acclaim for his now-famous novel after his death.
Now, not only was he returning to town to help his father, who could be…
challenging, but he was about to bring to life a story by the woman he’d never left behind.
What were the odds?
He pinched his nose, the weight of what he was heading into settling on his shoulders. Three weeks? It was going to be an eternity.
Copyright ? 2025 by Elle Douglas