Vineyard Dreams (Beyond The Red Carpet #4)

Chapter 1

1

H arper’s pulse quickened, her breath catching in her throat as the presenter slowly drew the card from the envelope. Beads of sweat formed on her palms, the cool silk of her gown providing little comfort against the heat rising within her. The room seemed to narrow, all eyes fixed on the stage, waiting for the words that would change someone’s life forever.

Harper’s mind raced, flashing back to the countless auditions, the long hours on set, and the sacrifices she’d made to pursue her passion. Every choice, every risk, had led her to this moment, and now, as the seconds stretched into an eternity, she found herself on the precipice of destiny.

As the presenter’s lips curled into a smile, Harper’s skin prickled with goosebumps. She’d spent so many hours dreaming of this moment, wondering if would even happen when she turned thirty-eight last month, but nothing could have prepared her for the intensity of this moment.

The presenter’s voice sliced through the anticipation, a clarity that cut like a knife. “And the Oscar goes to… Harper Reeves.”

In that moment, time froze.

The thunderous applause brought her back to the present. A wave of disbelief washed over her, an exhilarating rush that left her breathless. She blinked, struggling to grasp the reality of it. Her legs felt heavy as she rose from her seat, the world narrowing down to the aisle stretching before her. The white dress clung elegantly to her form, and she pushed her wavy black hair over her shoulder as she made her way toward the steps that led up to the stage.

The spotlight bore down on her as she climbed the steps and came onto the stage. She spotted the presenter—an icon in his own right—waiting with a warm smile and outstretched arms. They shared a brief hug, his familiar scent enveloping her like a comforting blanket.

“Congratulations,” he murmured.

Harper’s fingers brushed against the cool, metallic surface of the Oscar. It felt strangely heavy, and she offered a small, shaky smile to the presenter.

“Thank you,” she managed, her voice barely audible above the applause still ringing out.

Harper accepted the award, her grip tightening. The gold gleamed under the stage lights, a symbol of achievement, a testament to years of relentless work.

She cleared her throat as the noise subsided, and the vast auditorium fell silent in anticipation. The presenter stepped back, his smile warm and encouraging.

The moment was hers.

As Harper stepped up to the microphone, the bright lights of the theater nearly blinded her. The applause was deafening, a roar that filled her ears and made her heart race. She blinked, trying to adjust to the glare, her hands trembling slightly as she held the Oscar statuette. It felt heavy in her hands, the weight of the moment bearing down on her.

She looked out at the sea of faces, a blur of tuxedos and glittering gowns. In the third row, a familiar face caught her eye—Evelyn Coleman, an actress she’d worked with a few years ago. Evelyn smiled and gave her an encouraging nod.

In a moment that Harper had spent the last twenty years dreaming of, she was taken aback by the thought that she wished she had someone out there in the audience who would have kissed her when she won, who would be out there right now looking up at her with a proud smile. Someone who Harper could have told that she loved.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Now was not the time to be wondering if she would ever meet the right woman.

“Thank you,” she began, her voice clear and strong. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

The words felt inadequate, insufficient to express the depth of what she was feeling. She glanced down at the Oscar in her hands, the gold glinting under the lights. It was a symbol of everything she’d worked for, everything she’d dreamed of. And yet, in this moment, it felt secondary to the story she needed to tell.

“When I first read the script for Lena ,” she continued, “I couldn’t believe that this was a biopic. I had never heard the name Lena Matthews before.”

“It was 1969, a time when being gay was not just stigmatized, but dangerous. And yet, there was Lena, a woman who fought so fiercely for LGBTQ+ rights, a woman who endured so much, a woman whose name we should all know. And yet, her story has remained largely untold. Until now.”

Harper’s hands were steady now, her voice filled with conviction. “Playing Lena was more than just a role. It was a journey into the heart of a woman who dared to love fiercely and fight tirelessly for a better world in a time when it was revolutionary to do so.”

As she spoke, memories of filming flashed through her mind—the long hours, the emotional scenes, the moments when she’d felt so connected to Lena that the line between acting and reality had blurred.

“Lena taught me that sometimes the loudest voices are born from the deepest silences, the strongest spirits from the most profound losses. She showed me that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the strength to find your voice even when you’re at your lowest point.”

Harper paused, letting the words sink in. The audience was silent, hanging on her every word. She could feel the emotions welling up inside her, but she channeled them into her words.

“As a gay woman, I thought I understood the struggles, the quiet battles fought every single day. But Lena’s story, her life in the context of the late 60s and early 70s... it brought a new level of understanding. I learned that true liberation comes when you live authentically.”

Harper’s voice was powerful, resonating through the theater. “Living her life, even on-screen—the constant threats, the hate, the systemic injustices she faced just for loving who she loved—it was a stark reminder of how far we’ve come, and how far we still have to go. This was, without a doubt, the most challenging and transformative role I’ve ever taken on.”

She could feel the passion burning in her chest, the fierce pride she felt in telling Lena’s story. “This award... it’s not just for me. It’s for Lena. It’s for all the unsung heroes, for those who fight on even under impossible amounts of pressure. It’s for everyone who dares to be themselves, regardless of the cost. It’s a symbol of hope for a future where love is celebrated, not condemned.”

As she neared the end of her speech, knowing that the music would come on at any moment, Harper’s voice grew even stronger, each word ringing with truth.

“I’m honored to receive this award. It’s something I’ve dreamt of all my life, but getting the chance to bring Lena’s story to the world, to shed light on a heroine from a time when it meant risking everything... that, more than any award, is the greatest honor of all. Thank you.”

A roar of applause erupted, the crowd rising to its feet. Harper stood tall, basking in the moment, hoping that she would never forget it.

As she stepped back from the microphone, she caught Evelyn’s eye again. Evelyn was on her feet, applauding, her face filled with emotion.

Harper smiled down at her. When she thought of what Hollywood looked like when she’d arrived twenty years ago, she could hardly believe all of the women who had come out since, including herself, including Evelyn, and she had a feeling that Lena would be remembered as a classic.

If she never acted another day in her life, she could be happy, because she was almost certain that another performance, another script like that, would never come her way. It had truly been a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and even though she felt like she lost a bit of herself to that movie, it was the proudest she’d ever been as an actress.