A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (19 page)

The following day, at lunchtime, Jules was called to the phone and stepped out of the dining room for a few moments. When he came back, he went around the table, heading straight for Aurélien.

He leaned over his father and whispered, “Come with me for a few seconds.”

Surprised by his son’s tone, Aurélien followed him to the main living room. Jules carefully shut the door behind them.

“Something happened in Mazion,” he said, softly.

Stalling a little, he lit a cigarette before adding, “It’s Antoine. … He’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack. …”

Aurélien looked at his son blankly and then said, “Antoine? But he’s my age!”

A moment of silence followed, as Aurélien sat down.

“He’s your age, yes,” Jules said, “but you haven’t gained a bunch of weight over the last ten years like Antoine.”

“And I have you!” Aurélien said. “I’m not out there killing myself in the vineyards all day long.”

He was upset and lost. Though, out of selfishness, he was thinking more about himself than Antoine. Jules came over to him to put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. The two rarely put on any displays of affection, their relationship based more on glances and words than physical contact.

“Let’s send Alexandre over there to help out,” Jules suggested. “At least for a little while. I’ll drive Laurène over to be with her mother now, and Dominique can go a bit later. …”

Aurélien nodded in agreement. Jules removed his hand from his shoulder.

“Was it Marie who called you?” Aurélien asked.

Why him? Why not me?
he thought, fleetingly.

But he didn’t feel like thinking about that right now. Standing before him, Jules hesitated.

He’s waiting for me to do something. He’s not trying to take over everything. What’s wrong with me? Am I afraid?

Aurélien stood up.

“Laurène!” he shouted.

Then he turned to Jules.

“Take her to her mother’s, and I’ll talk to Dominique. And Robert can go to the hospital to find out what exactly is going on.”

Jules walked over to Laurène as soon as she set foot in the main living room. He lovingly took her by the shoulders, but she freed herself right away, alarmed by this sudden warmth. She turned to Aurélien instead, and he was the one who explained the situation. Worried, she followed Jules to the garage, saying nothing. Instead of the Jeep, he decided to drive Louis-Marie’s car, knowing that the keys were always in the ignition. He’d been hurt by Laurène’s reaction and he kept quiet. She looked straight in front of her, wounded and uncomfortable.

Once in Mazion, they were greeted by a very agitated Marie, and Jules had a lot of difficulty calming her down. Then, he went over to the employees and talked to them for a long time. He wanted to know what Alexandre would find there, what the situation was. The timing of Antoine’s hospitalization was bad, a few days before the harvest. Jules, with his disconcerting ability to fully wrap his mind around any sort of problem, gave precise orders and told everyone to get to work. Then he went back to Marie to hug her one last time before heading back to Fonteyne. Walking toward the car, he was surprised to see Laurène by his side.

Marie was watching them from the front door, and Jules didn’t know how to behave.

“Alex will be over tomorrow morning to take charge of things,” he said. “I have to go back home. …”

He was dying to take her in his arms, desperate to lose himself in so much love and stupidity.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

She’d blurted out the question in a low voice. She was glaring at him, both clumsy and aggressive.

“No. …”

Taken aback by the way she’d just spoken to him, he turned and got in the car. He slowly drove off, although it took a tremendous force of effort to leave.

Very early the following morning, Jules went over to the hospital in Bordeaux. He felt like he had to visit Antoine, if only once, to reassure him about his vineyards. He didn’t judge the way the Billots ran their business, but he knew that Antoine had stuck to the old methods and ideas of his generation.

According to Robert, his condition was pretty good, and the nurse did let Jules go in for a few moments. Antoine greeted him with a tight smile. His face was grayish, and he looked doleful.

“How are you doing?” Jules asked him.

Antoine gestured for Jules to sit down, but he preferred standing by the bed.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said. “You should stay away from Marie’s cooking. Or just drink water from now on. …”

Antoine made a face and waved Jules’s banalities away.

“I know how busy you are over at Fonteyne,” he said, “and that you have no time to waste. But, listen, I need someone to take care of things for me.

“Alex is going to do it. He was over in Mazion at seven this morning. He’s going to go every day. It’s all settled.”

Antoine released a long sigh of relief.

“That’s great,” he said. “Between you and me, my foreman is a moron. Warn your brother about him, tell him not to get pushed around by him. But you’re going to keep an eye on things too, right?”

Jules was a bit annoyed by Antoine’s attitude toward Alexandre.

“Alexandre will be totally fine by himself,” he said.

Antoine gave him a skeptical look, forcing Jules to add, “The Laverzacs and the Billots are one family. Don’t worry about anything.”

Antoine stared at Jules and said, “That’s good. I wanted to hear that from you.”

Following a moment of awkward silence, Antoine added, “That was nice of Robert to come over yesterday. Because of him, I’m treated like a king around here. I think that all the nurses are crazy about him. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know anything about vines, so I’m glad I talked to you.”

Jules smiled at him, and Antoine knew that he was about to leave.

“Wait just a minute, kid,” he said. “There’s one more thing, but it’s hard for me to say. …”

Instantly, Jules was on the defensive.

“Don’t get bent out of shape,” Antoine muttered. “I guess you know what I have in mind. … Listen, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but every time Laurène comes home to see her mother, she’s crying. … She tells me nothing, but …”

“Antoine, stop.”

Jules was calm, cold, and Antoine grabbed him by the sweater.

“If something happens to me,” he said, “she’s going to be all by herself. And the same for Marie and my vines! I won’t ask you anything. But keep an eye on them, even if it’s from afar.

“That’s enough, Antoine! You’re not that sick. … And you forget about Alexandre too easily.”

He’d taken a couple of steps back toward the door, and Antoine watched him, powerless. Jules hesitated to leave. He loved Marie, and while he may not have thought all that much of Antoine, thanks to Aurélien’s influence, he understood his distress.

“If Laurène is crying,” he said in a low voice, “it’s not because of me. And, believe me, I’m sorry about it.”

Antoine, taken aback, watched Jules go. He left the hospital feeling angry. He had the painful impression that everybody was meddling in his life. His feelings for Laurène left him unsettled to no end, made him less focused on Fonteyne, less attentive, less confident. And he had no idea how to change his state of mind.

Once home, Laurène couldn’t resist her mother’s affection. She told Marie everything, including the awful episode in the stable. Marie listened to her quietly, horrified. On top of her husband’s hospitalization, her daughter’s confidence shocked her. If Dominique had brought her only joy, Marie had always known that Laurène would be a problem child. She knew all too well her youngest daughter’s naïve, timid, and obstinate personality. And her complete ineptitude when it came to men. That Laurène could prefer Robert, Marie understood. Robert’s seductive side didn’t escape anyone. That and the fact that his obvious and mysterious sadness could be captivating for a young woman. But that Laurène had had casual sex with him floored her. She was from a generation that didn’t accept such ideas and behavior. However, since she didn’t want to be seen as backward and didn’t want her daughter to think that she was against her, Marie decided not to come out with the unpleasant comments that came to her mind. All she said was that it was a mistake to turn her back on a man like Jules, and that he didn’t deserve to be treated this way. And then she advised her daughter to come back to Mazion, where she really ought to be, instead of living at the Laverzacs’. Laurène cried a lot, hesitated, then said that she would leave Fonteyne after Jules’s departure for England. That way, she gave herself a deadline, while not knowing how she would take advantage of it. What was certain was that Jules would never come for her at her parents’, and she couldn’t stand the idea of losing him.

Speaking to her mother had enlightened her about herself and her situation. She realized that no matter what she’d thought recently, she still loved Jules with the same intense passion. She had no interest in a future without him. She couldn’t accept that their relationship, as messy as it was now, was irreparable. Marie didn’t want to contradict her, though she was convinced that Laurène would have a very hard time winning over Jules after humiliating him the way she had.

Jules arriving with Dominique was one of the worst things Marie had to endure that day. She hated to pretend and had a very hard time greeting Jules as she normally would have. She offered him something to drink, nervous and clumsy, asked a thousand questions about the vineyards, and forgot to talk about Antoine. Baffled by her behavior, Jules ended up asking, with his typical kindness, “Is everything okay, Marie? You’re not worried, I hope.”

“No!” she blurted out. “Alex is doing a great job. It’s a pleasure to have him around.”

As he gave her an affectionate smile, Marie saw the son that she never had and would’ve adored.

“Antoine will be back on his feet soon, you’ll see. And he won’t have any problems with the harvest. I’ve taken care of everything concerning the laborers, but you still have time anyway. You guys harvest a bit later around here.”

Marie gave him a sad look.

“Yes,” she said, “everything is going to be okay. …”

There was so little conviction in her voice that Jules frowned. He glanced at Laurène, guessing that she’d told her mother about everything, and immediately, he resented her for it.

Marie, who’d seen his expression, intervened, “So, you won’t be around this winter?”

Jules set his glass down and got up. “That’s right,” he said. “I’ll be in London.”

For the first time in his life he was in a hurry to leave Marie and Mazion.

“I have to go, Marie. Do you need anything?”

“No,” she said. “You’re a good kid.”

She’d forced herself to say those words, and he noticed. Extremely uncomfortable, he kissed Marie and Dominique on the cheeks but ignored Laurène. He hurried over to the Jeep, without knowing that a silence filled with consternation had fallen on the three women after he’d left.

At six the following morning, Jules was surprised to see his brother Robert walk into his bedroom.

“You’ve fallen out of bed?” Jules asked, yawning.

“No, I’m actually going to bed now. But I wanted to remove those sutures of yours. It’s time. And you get up so early I figured I might just as well stay up.”

Smiling, Robert looked around him. He’d always liked Jules’s room. A large leather armchair, old and beat up, sat in front of the fireplace. There were piles of books everywhere.

“You caught the bug, too?” Robert asked.

“Yes, and since there’s no more room in the library. …”

Jules sat up in bed and smiled at his brother.

“You know …” he said, “for those long winter nights.”

Robert burst out laughing.

“Long winter nights with books, yeah …”

“Why not? There’s more to this world than just women. You never take a break?”

There was a trace of hostility in Jules’s voice and Robert stopped laughing.

“I spent the night in Bordeaux’s night clubs, and I was bored to death. …”

He looked so sad and tired all of a sudden that Jules felt bad for him. He asked point blank, “Is Pauline still poisoning your life?”

Robert lowered his head without answering.

“What about Laurène. Did you ditch her?”

Again, Jules had used a harsh tone. Robert looked him straight in the eye.

“I can’t answer because, no matter what, you’ll get angry at me. Is there alcohol in the bathroom? I need to remove your sutures.”

Jules got lost in his thoughts as he waited for his brother to return. He rolled onto his stomach.

“How are your ribs?” Robert asked.

“I ignore them and they leave me alone.”

Robert opened the packaging on a disposable scalpel.

“Don’t move,” he said. “You won’t feel a thing.”

He held the end of a suture with tweezers and cut the knot.

“Are you going to buy me a cashmere sweater in London?” he asked, out of the habit of distracting patients while he worked on them.

Jules laughed.

“Don’t move!” Robert said. “Are you happy you’re going?”

“No. But I’m curious about their white wines. And their procurement networks. Even when it’s for the wrong reasons, Aurélien is right.”

Jules started to laugh again, and Robert was barely able to lift the scalpel.

“Quit it!” Robert said.

His fingers were agile and precise, even though he’d spent a good portion of the night drinking.

“There,” he said. “Just like new. This scar is a work of art, if I do say so myself.”

Jules turned around and stared at his brother.

“You only fixed what you messed up. Don’t expect gratitude.”

Robert gave him a tired smile.

“You look old this morning,” Jules said.

“I know.”

Grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, Jules said, “You didn’t answer me, about Laurène. …”

Robert shrugged and said, “You know exactly what the situation is. You’re just looking for a fight.”

Jules got up, glanced at the alarm clock, then turned to Robert. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Go to bed, you look dead.”