A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (22 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have. I’m a bit clumsy with you. …”

“Yes, you are,” he said, distant.

She lowered her head and started eating again, in silence. He felt bad for her, but found nothing nice to say. He’d touched none of the food that had been served, and he felt a bit drunk. He forced himself to say something.

“Listen, Camille … I think we should leave things where they are for the moment, you know … ?”

Surprised, she glared at him.

“Where they are? And where’s that?”

“Well … nowhere, really.”

Unexpectedly, she smiled at him.

“I know it’s going to take time for me to tame you,” she said.

He had to control himself to keep from showing the irritation he felt. Even though Camille didn’t want to understand, he refrained from acting like a lout. He paid the astronomical bill without batting an eye and drove all the way to Saint-Julien with teeth clenched. He made his way up the driveway and stopped the car in front of the Cazes’ castle.

With a soft voice, she asked, “You want to come in for a second? Daddy is probably still up …”

Jules declined her offer and went to kiss her on the cheek. But at the last second she turned her head and their lips brushed. Then he waited until she was inside and took off like a shot. Since the beginning of dinner, all he’d thought about was Laurène. The cure was worse than the disease, and he decided that he’d never go out with Camille again. He drove to Bordeaux and looked for a nightclub. He didn’t want to go back to Fonteyne, where he couldn’t stand being alone. At the bar, he flirted with a beautiful young woman who seemed bored among a group of loud people. He’d removed his tie and unfastened his shirt collar, happy to free his neck. He was young, unconscious of the charm he exerted on others, indifferent to all the eyes that were on him.

Half-drunk, he took the young woman to a hotel. For some weird reason, he chose the hotel where he had run into Robert and Pauline. As soon as they set foot in the room, the young woman began to laugh nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she said once she calmed down. “It’s just that … this is the first time that I’ve done this with someone I don’t know. You’re very good-looking, but I’m a bit … worried.”

She laughed again and asked, “You told me your name before we left, but with all that noise I didn’t hear it.”

Jules was watching her, exhausted.

She added, “We both know why we’re here, and you didn’t force me, but just give me a couple of moments before we do anything.”

He sat on a hideous-looking rattan chair on the other side of the room.

“My name is Jules Laverzac,” he said. “I live near Margaux. I’m no sadist and, besides, I’ve had way too much to drink. So don’t worry. …”

She frowned as she heard his name.

“Laverzac? You’re one of the four brothers?”

“The youngest,” he said with a smile. “The adopted one.”

“I’ve seen your father quite a bit. I work for his notary, Mr. Varin.”

They were almost embarrassed to know so much about each other. They kept quiet for a moment, and then she headed for the bathroom as Jules took off his jacket.

When she came back, he was in bed, smoking a cigarette. She’d undressed completely, and he watched her come his way, fascinated.

“My name is Frédérique,” she said as she slid between the bedsheets.

He wasn’t moving, wasn’t touching her. She leaned on her elbow, nonchalantly.

“You’re in no shape to make love? It doesn’t matter.”

He put out his cigarette and turned to her. Since he knew her, if only barely, he couldn’t very well shy away from her. Besides, he was the one who’d taken her to the hotel. He’d had too much to drink, no doubt, but he wanted her badly. He drew Frédérique to him and saw that she had magnificent gray eyes. She smelled good, and she was smiling just a little. She let him take the initiative. He had no difficulty satisfying her and he, himself, enjoyed it much more than he’d expected. She probably wasn’t very experienced, as she put a sort of child-like tenderness into all of her movements. Almost immediately, he made love to her a second time.

When he got up, he felt happy, or at least at peace with himself. He got dressed and kneeled by the bed.

“Thank you,” he said with complete sincerity.

She laughed once again, but much more joyfully than she had an hour before.

“Thank you, too. …” she said. “If we’re going to be polite …”

For a fleeting moment he thought about Laurène and the way she’d poisoned his life the past few weeks, and he got angry.

“You want a lift?” he asked.

“Now?”

“Whenever you want.”

He got back to his feet, lit a cigarette, and handed her the pack.

“Do you smoke?”

She took one, smiling.

“No,” she said, “but that’s what you’re supposed to do after lovemaking, right? A moment of calm after the storm. …”

Jules wished that this moment of calm would go on, but it was very late and the room wasn’t ideal.

“I’m going to come out and say something that’s kind of crazy for three in the morning,” he warned her. “I’d love to see you again.”

Suddenly intimidated, she reached for her blouse, but Jules was quicker, and he handed it to her.

“Would you like me to wait for you downstairs?” he asked.

“Please,” she muttered.

The careful courtesy he exhibited protected them from superfluous affection, but it also put a barrier between them. Jules flipped his jacket over his shoulder and smiled at Frédérique before stepping out of the room.

It was past four in the morning when Jules parked the Mercedes in the garage. For the first time that summer, he felt less fixated on Laurène. He hoped that this state of mind would continue, as he really needed to free himself from his obsession, to be himself again.

Something moved in front of the car and immediately he was on the lookout. In the feeble glow given off by the car’s dome light, he made out a shadow coming his way. Then he recognized Lucas. In an instant he sobered up, on his guard and worried.

“You’re coming home late, kid,” Lucas said with exaggerated aggression.

Jules got out of the car and leaned against its hood.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You should go to bed. …”

He knew what Lucas had in mind, and he didn’t know how he was going to avoid a confrontation.

“So,” Lucas said, “your old man didn’t go along with it, did he? You couldn’t get me canned?”

It was obvious that Lucas was looking for a fight. Jules thought of his broken ribs.

“I’ve been waiting for you a long time, but at this hour we ought to be left alone. It’s hard to settle the score when your brothers and your father are around, don’t you think?”

Lucas was almost as tall as Jules, stocky and strong. Only he was sixty years old.

“That’s what you want, Lucas? To beat the crap out of me? And then what? What about tomorrow?”

Jules’s tone of voice was calm, but Lucas interrupted him.

“I don’t give a damn about tomorrow.”

“What about Fernande?”

“Leave Fernande alone. Don’t you try to hide behind the maid.”

Lucas broke out into hateful laughter. Jules hadn’t moved, and he made another attempt to calm things down.

“Lucas, go home. …”

Jules was too proud to be taken for a coward, and he was certain that Lucas wouldn’t just walk away. But then Lucas punched him in the stomach. Jules got the wind knocked out of him and he hung onto the Mercedes.

“I’ve had enough of you bossing me around, you little piece of shit. No one even knows where the hell you came from!”

He charged again. Jules had no choice. He took a swing and connected. Lucas swore. Then the two struggled in silence for a while. Jules knew that he would come out on top as long as the fight didn’t go on for too long. His ribs were hurting terribly. He managed to immobilize Lucas by twisting his arm behind his back.

“You’re digging your own grave, you moron,” Jules told him. “You should thank your wife.”

Lucas tried to free himself, but he screamed in pain. Jules wasn’t letting his arm go. If anything, his grip tightened.

“Don’t you get it, Lucas? If it weren’t for Fernande, I’d have fired your ass and sent you to jail for fraud. You wanted a fight, you got one! You couldn’t stand that I caught you red-handed? What did you think, that I’d let you screw me without saying a word? And Aurélien has no intention of looking like the biggest sucker in Médoc. If you want to leave Fonteyne, good riddance. But where would you go, you poor bastard?”

Lucas was taken aback by Jules’s words. Ever since he was a kid, Jules had addressed him with respect. He felt his shoulder going numb, and he knew he’d never be able to escape Jules’s grip.

“Let me go,” he said with a barely audible voice.

Jules straightened and let Lucas go. They faced each other tensely. Jules was staggering with fatigue. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Lucas was staring at him, wondering why he looked so exhausted. He shook his head bitterly.

“I only wish I wasn’t too old to beat the crap out of you,” he said. “You son of a whore. …”

Jules shrugged his shoulders and said, “You don’t know that. …”

They headed for the exit, side by side. Jules felt as though Lucas was softening a little.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah,” Lucas grumbled. “I’ll pack up and leave today, don’t worry.”

“No way. If Fernande leaves because of you, I’ll beat you to a pulp. You understand that?”

Jules was now facing Lucas. It was his turn to be menacing, and Lucas hesitated to take a step.

“Why would you steal from us, you lowlife? Just a few bottles, wasn’t it? You just needed to ask for a raise if you needed the cash, we would’ve said yes. Your wife is a maid, sure. So what? Everyone around here respects her. But you, you’ll end up being hated by all of us. You work on an estate of this quality and all you want to do is steal a few bucks off the bosses’ backs? You?”

Jules caught his breath. Lucas had taken a step back, wary.

“If you’re dumb enough to leave now, I have no idea who I’d hire to replace you. But you can believe me when I say that I’d tell everyone in the damn country about your tendencies as a thief. You know how small a world this is. You’d have to go to Australia to try to find work after that!”

Lucas lowered his head. His anger was gone, and he was listening to what Jules was saying.

Suddenly conciliatory, Jules said, “The harvest is right around the corner and I need you. Let’s forget about all this. …”

Lucas planted his eyes on Jules’s. He was confused.

“If you weren’t such a good cellar master, I wouldn’t put up with your antics. But I know how valuable you are. Let’s wipe the slate clean, okay? And let’s both of us go home now.”

Lucas turned away, incredulous. His chin was trembling. He found nothing to say and went staggering down the driveway. Jules let him go, figuring he had resolved the issue. On edge, completely spent and numb with fatigue, he made his way to his bedroom, sick at the thought that he had only an hour or two to sleep.

And at seven o’clock, Fernande came up to wake him, as Aurélien was already losing patience in his office. She was as pleasant as usual, and so Jules concluded that Lucas hadn’t talked to her about what had happened. He went down the stairs and was greeted by his father.

“Holy cow, Jules! Take a look at yourself. You had that hot a date with Camille? I warned you.”

Aurélien, excited by the coming harvest, couldn’t stand still. He bombarded Jules with questions and barely gave him time to answer them. Alexandre’s absence put him in a foul mood, and it took everything Jules could think of to finally make his father smile.

“I estimated the harvest, a very rough estimate. … The vineyards are completely cleared now, and the leaves have yellowed. And the official proclamation on the harvest will come soon. …”

Jules spoke and Aurélien listened to him, head low. When it came to grapes, they were always in perfect harmony. Aurélien needed to be both reassured and in charge. Jules told him what he wanted to hear, without hiding anything. Aurélien was fully aware of his adopted son’s value, and he had total confidence in him, even when he wasn’t altogether thrilled by this or that innovation.

“Why don’t you go down to the cellar?” Jules suggested.

He wanted his father to get out of the office and walk around a bit. He didn’t think Aurélien looked all that well, though he didn’t dare say so out loud. Since Aurélien had started suffering from chest pains, Jules kept a close eye on him. He was convinced that his father was as essential to him as oxygen or the vines. His life’s horizons stopped at Fonteyne, and he wanted nothing to change. Not even Lucas’s presence.

He ran into the cellar master a bit later that morning and talked to him as though nothing had happened. He warned him about Aurélien’s lousy mood. Lucas, who’d also had very little sleep, was relieved by Jules’s attitude. His animosity gave way to bemused gratitude. He regretted his own betrayal and wanted to make it right. The Laverzac family got on his nerves at times, but his position at Fonteyne was worth a bit of patience on his part, he knew that. He could not let an entire life taking care of the vines with love end in shame and mediocrity. Jules’s lecture had humiliated him while also, paradoxically, diluting his rancor.

At eleven, Jules went over to the kitchen for some coffee. There he found Dominique and Fernande talking about the upcoming week’s meals. Laurène was at the far end of a bench, and Jules sat at the other end.

“What are you planning for lunch today?” he asked his sister-in-law. “How about something light for a change?”

Dominique burst out laughing and set a mug in front of Jules.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to get,” she said. “You don’t know about today’s program? Let me just tell you, it wasn’t my idea. It’s Pauline’s. …”

Fernande was also laughing.

“What?” Jules asked.

“A picnic by the river!” Dominique said. “And everybody has to come. Aurélien just gave his blessing. He always seems to get a kick out of Pauline’s schemes.”

“Oh, come on,” Jules said. “She’s crazy. … You really think we’ve got that kind of time to waste?”