Page 9 of Deck the Hauls

“My character inherits a Christmas tree farm from her grandparents which she struggles to keep afloat. The local fireman who gets her out of the tree helps save the farm.”

I frowned. “So basically she needs a man to save her?”

We started walking through the firs.

“Well… yes.” Emily pressed her lips together. “But she has a lot of character growth too. I mean, she will, the way I’m performing her.”

I lifted my brow. She didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, even if she doesn’t have a lot of growth, at least the movie is going to push me out of my comfort zone, what with the whole heights thing and the ice skating scene. Although I’ll have to tell them that Christmas trees aren’t actually safe to climb.”

I’d also be talking to Roz about that the next chance I got. The production company better not try to film a scene with Emily climbing an actual tree. It wouldn’t end well for Emily or the tree.

“Ice skating is out of your comfort zone?”

Emily sighed. “Yeah. Do you know any ice-skating rinks around here? I’m assuming there must be, given we’re filming a scene at one. I really need to practice.”

“They set up one every winter down at Dockside Park. You haven’t been skating for a while?”

Emily let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve never skated. But I’m sure I’ll be able to pick it up, right? I rollerbladed as a kid.”

“Um, yeah, probably.” Based on the last hour I’d spent with Emily, she was not the most coordinated person. I wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped on the ice and broke a leg. And it wasn’t like the local rink gave supervised lessons. It was a free for all, small kids hyped up on sugar zigzagging everywhere during the day, and adults with their judgement impaired by hot cider and mulled wine being equally erratic at night. Emily learning to skate in that environment by herself was a recipe for disaster. If she injured herself, filming might be cancelled.

Should I offer to teach her?

There’d be Christmas decorations everywhere, holiday music blasting through the loudspeakers, people smiling and laughing, full of Christmas cheer.

A familiar ache returned to my chest and I tightened my grip on the saw.

No. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMILY

I winced. That last line had been atrocious. I looked at Charles, standing behind the video monitor in a sweater of a reindeer vomiting.

“Sorry. Can I try that again?”

Charles’ eyes shut briefly before he yelled “Cut!” and pulled his headphones off his dark-brown bald head. “Emily, can I have a word?”

I headed over, tugging at my collar. It was unseasonably warm today, the blue cloudless skies providing no protection from the sun’s rays, and I was sweating in the thick coat, gloves, scarf and beanie provided by the wardrobe department. Nerves at being back in front of the camera for the first time since Clique probably weren’t helping either.

Charles stepped over to the side of the large red barn and I followed, my heart pumping. Was I actually terrible? Was he regretting taking a chance on me? So far, he seemed a little abrupt, but it might just be stress. With the original actor breaking her ankle, the preferred set being overrun with bats, and the assistant director being struck down with pneumonia resulting in Charles having to do the role of director and assistant director, it couldn’t be easy. At least there were no volatile mood swings, no screaming, no… I shuddered. Stop thinking about Phillip.

Charles rubbed his forehead. “Emily, I appreciate your dedication to getting each scene just right, but you’re going to have to lower your standards. This is a HolLove movie. We’re not aiming for Oscar-winning performances here. We don’t have the time to do multiple takes for each scene. You’ve been nailing it first time anyway.”

My eyes widened. He thinks I’m nailing it? That meant a lot, coming from him. Charles had directed a number of critically acclaimed films in the nineties. I wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up working with HolLove. He had to be in his sixties now, perhaps he was winding down to retirement. Although the budget constraints and compressed filming schedule meant that his job wasn’t easygoing. HolLove were notoriously demanding.

“Sorry.” I resisted the urge to run my hand through my hair, not wanting to ruin the stylist’s good work. “I just want to make sure I’m capturing her emotional state. I guess I’m not clear if she’d still be grieving her grandparents or if she’s excited at the challenge of turning the farm around?”

Charles rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. “Since this is HolLove, I’d keep it light. We want her to be bubbly and likable. Let’s not delve too much into her inner psyche. Okay?”

Delving into inner psyches was one of my favorite things about acting, but at least he hadn’t dismissed my question completely. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Charles glanced down at his watch. “We need to shoot another twelve scenes today, which means we only have time for one retake at the most. It doesn’t need to be perfect.”

“Understood.” I ignored the tightness in my chest. If it wasn’t perfect, would I land another role after this one? “I know you don’t have time now, but it would be good to talk about the ending at some point. I’m just wondering if it’s quite right that Molly would give up on all her dreams to be a housewife? It seems a little… regressive. Don’t you think it would be better if she kept running the farm herself and turned into a successful businesswoman?”