Page 2 of Deck the Hauls

I frowned as we stepped into the darkness, the scent of damp earth and diesel fuel mixed with sweet overtones from the hay bales hitting my nose. Money was still a concern? I thought that was all behind us.

“Not only are they paying us, but it will be excellent publicity for the farm.” Roz strode over to where the wheelbarrows stood upright against the wooden wall and pulled down a blue one. “I’m planning to contact the local paper and radio stations to see if they’ll cover it. We can’t compete with the big-box stores on price, so we need to compete on experience. And no one’s filming a holiday movie at Walmart. Choosing a Christmas tree that may have starred in a movie will surely appeal to the locals. Since HolLove is making one of the old barns into a set, I thought, after they finish, we could turn it into a museum about the movie, with photos from filming and any props they’re willing to leave with us.”

I grabbed the red wheelbarrow and pushed it over to the large rack on the wall that held an assortment of hand tools. Roz was right. Having a holiday movie filmed here would be a selling point. As much as I hated the idea of a film crew trampling through my firs, if it was going to help the farm, I’d just have to suck it up. It would only be for a few weeks, after all. And at least they weren’t starting until Wednesday, which would give me today and tomorrow to mentally prepare for the interruption and the early bombardment of Christmas cheer that a holiday movie would surely bring.

“Okay. Fine. As long as they stay out of my way and don’t damage the trees.” I threw a spade in the wheelbarrow and grabbed two pairs of gloves.

Roz beamed. “I’ll let them know if they want to avoid an altercation with my axe-wielding head farmer, they need to look after the trees.” She placed a rake and some large burlap sacks in her wheelbarrow. “Oh, and there’s something else.”

“Yes?” Something about Roz’s tone sent my Spidey senses tingling.

“The female lead asked if she could shadow someone here before filming starts for research purposes. She’s playing a Christmas tree farm owner.”

My brow furrowed. “If filming starts on Wednesday, there’s not much time for her to shadow you.”

“Me?” Roz snorted, starting to push the wheelbarrow back to the truck. “We all know who really runs the Christmas tree farm, and it’s definitely not me. I was hoping you could do it tomorrow. You’re the brains of the operation, after all.” Roz’s voice softened. “I know you like your space, Dana, but it’ll only be for a day. Just do your normal thing, and pretend she’s not there.”

So much for having tomorrow to get used to the idea.

I picked up my pace to keep level with Roz. “I was planning to clear the pumpkin patch tomorrow. Watching me wrestle gooey pumpkins doesn’t sound like the kind of education she’d be after.” Why did it sound like I was proposing she watched me in a seasonal version of lesbian mud wrestling?

Roz chuckled. “Good point. If you let her shadow you, you can focus on the firs tomorrow and I’ll do the patch.”

I sighed. Roz offering to handle the rotting pumpkins definitely sweetened the deal. And it was only for a day.

“Okay. Fine.” I swung the door of the barn open, pushing the wheelbarrow through and holding the door for Roz.

“So who is this actress?” I asked after we’d heaved the wheelbarrows into the back of the truck and were sitting in the cab again.

Roz grimaced. “I can’t remember her name. I’d never heard of her. I can check.” Roz stopped and pulled out her phone.

I glanced at my watch. “Never mind. We’d better get a move on. Who knows if I’ll get anything done tomorrow babysitting an actress?”

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY

I took a deep breath of the crisp November air spilling into the truck through the open windows as we bumped down the dirt road. Fresh grass with a hint of woodsmoke and manure. Who knew manure could actually smell pleasant in that combination?

“What are you building over there?” I asked Roz, the striking blond woman behind the wheel.

A large steel skeleton of a building, at least fifteen feet high, sat in the middle of a field. Workers in reflective vests and hard hats were pushing wheelbarrows and laying red bricks.

Roz kept her eyes on the road. “An event space and tap room. Don’t worry, you won’t hear the construction noise from the set.”

I gazed out the window as we passed two cows chewing grass and reached a smaller field enclosed by a cute white picket fence. Goats frolicked on hay in a corner of the field, kicking their legs up with abandon. I smiled. This was a nice change of scene from the concrete and bustle of New York.

Everything was moving so quickly. Only two weeks ago, I’d been trudging back to my parents’ house in Brooklyn after finishing yet another soul-sucking voice-over for a corporate insider-trading training video when my agent had called. The actor HolLove had lined up to play the female lead in The Christmas Tree Farm had broken her ankle and they wanted me instead. And now here I was, on a farm in the heart of the Hudson Valley, about to start filming.

“There’s the petting zoo on your left, and the remains of the corn maze on your right—it closed last week and we’re partway through clearing it for animal feed and compost. Same with the pumpkin patch.” Roz tilted her head toward a field strewn with old pumpkins and vines. “That’s my task for today.”

I couldn’t quite imagine Roz engaging in heavy labor. She was definitely not what I’d expected of a farm owner. Her clothes looked the part—big brown dirty boots, worn chestnut-colored working pants and a thick navy jacket—but her voice was incredibly smooth and well-modulated, the sort of voice I’d try to emulate if I was playing a cutthroat Harvard-educated CEO. Her pale skin and short blond hair, parted to the side and sweeping across her forehead, gave me sophisticated Cate Blanchett vibes—nothing like the sturdy, ruddy-faced farmer of my imagination.

I turned to look back out the window before Roz caught me staring. It was good to have some stereotypes challenged. I still hadn’t decided how my character would speak. Maybe I could practice Roz’s clipped tone when I got back to my Airbnb and see how it felt. Just because HolLove films were full of stereotypes didn’t mean my character had to be one.

The truck rumbled past rows of trees with browning leaves. I still had time to work these things out. That was the whole point of me arriving early.

I thought back to the conversation with the production coordinator, shortly after my agent called to inform me I’d secured my first acting role in two years. The pause after I’d delivered my request to shadow a farmer, and the hint of amusement in her voice when she did respond, made it clear that my request was unusual. Perhaps some HolLove actors phoned in their performance—actually I was pretty sure most of them did after the HolLove movie marathon I’d had with my parents over the weekend—but not me. I was going to be the best damn Christmas tree farm owner I could be. There was a saying that ‘HolLove is where careers go to die,’ but my career couldn’t get any more dead. I had nothing to lose by throwing myself into this role and pulling out all the stops. Anything was better than another soul-crushing voice-over job.