A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (24 page)

She was still sleeping. He slowly tried to move away from her, but she opened her eyes, saw him, and smiled. Then she pressed her body against his, her face against his shoulder. Flashbacks from the night they’d just spent together came to her, and she felt her face redden. She’d never imagined how great lovemaking could be before this man had climbed into her bed. He looked at her expression and began to laugh.

“I have to get up. …” he said.

But he let his hands wander on her body, and she bit her lower lip. He then stood and stretched, amused at the sight of her disappointment.

“Jules … what are we going to do?”

“Make love every night, of course. In secret!”

He laughed again, but she asked, “Why do we have to hide?”

“Right now, it’s a bit difficult to …”

“To what?”

“Listen, you announced that you were going back to Mazion, and I’m leaving for England in November. I think we should wait until Christmas to tell my father and yours. … And I’m going to have to deal with Maurice Caze between now and then!”

She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand. But she didn’t want to contradict him.

“Be honest, Jules,” she said. “You’re hesitant because of Aurélien, right? Because of the harvest?”

“Yes. … And no matter what I told him right now about us, he wouldn’t respond well. He’s irritated by what’s going on between us, and he only knows half of it!”

He’d meant to make her smile, but she remained stone-faced.

“I’m always going to be second fiddle to Aurélien?”

It was more an observation than a question.

“To Aurélien and Fonteyne, probably,” he said, honestly. “But above everything else, I swear!”

He came back to Laurène and took her in his arms.

“By January, everything will be settled. I give you my word. And, if you agree, we could get married in the spring.”

She broke into a radiant smile, and he looked at her with great passion.

“You’re going to give me four sons,” he said.

“And a daughter!”

“Yes, a pretty girl, just like you.”

He kissed her and then said, “I really have to go. …”

She followed him with her eyes. She’d always loved his lean frame, the way he walked, the way he moved. He put on his jeans, his shirt.

“As long as the grapes aren’t harvested, I won’t relax and I won’t be able to do what I really want. You understand that, right?”

She nodded yes and then said, “Jules … are you mad at me because of Bob?”

He shrugged, more annoyed than indifferent.

“Of course,” he said. “It was so unnecessary. …”

“When I’m back in Mazion,” she said, “are you really going to hire that woman?”

Jules sniggered.

“Of course! Aurélien needs a good-looking secretary! He’d be miserable otherwise.”

She forced herself to smile. She certainly didn’t want to stir up some stormy discussion between them. He lit a cigarette, walked over to her, and took her hand. Then, ever so gently, he kissed her wrist.

“I love you,” he said, softly. “When do you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow or the day after. …”

He seemed deep in thought suddenly but offered no comment. He headed for the door looking anxious. He turned to Laurène, hesitant, and said, “I need you to know … I’m not sure you know this about me … but if you ever behave with a man the way you did during the picnic, it will end badly.”

“You’re the jealous type?” Laurène asked. Her eyes were shining. “What a compliment, Jules!” she said. “Yes, yes! I want you to be jealous!”

Bewildered, he watched her hide her head under the covers with a loud burst of laughter. He stepped out of the room, smiling as he glanced at the door handle still dangling, and he ran down the stairs to his father’s office. He forgot to knock and was taken aback by his father’s stern expression.

“You look more and more tired,” Aurélien said. “That bodes well! You guys made an awful lot of noise up there!”

Jules was startled and avoided looking at his father.

“It sounded like you were kicking down doors when you went to sleep. I almost went back upstairs to calm things down. Anyway, you do what you want. … Coffee?”

Jules sat down, wondering what Aurélien really knew.

“I’m going to a wine producers’ meeting tonight,” Aurélien said, “and so you’re going to have dinner without me. Before that, I’ll go over to Antoine’s. Poor guy won’t be allowed to have a decent meal anytime soon. … Hey, are you sleeping? All right, are we checking out the cellar or what?”

Jules followed him out to the terrace, trying to come up with something that might lighten Aurélien’s mood.

Finally, he asked, “Have you thought of someone to replace Laurène?”

“I haven’t had time for that. Why?”

“Because if you’d like to sleep with your notary’s secretary, I know her, and she’s very pretty.”

“Oh yeah?”

Aurélien had stopped in his tracks, the semblance of a smile on his face.

“I never know what you mean exactly when you say you ‘know’ someone,” he said.

“You’re going to like her a lot.”

“That much? You’re sucking up to me, aren’t you? Or you’re offering me compensation for something. … But what could it be? Did you steal something from me?”

Jules burst into his usual light laughter, which almost always stirred something inside Aurélien.

“You’re a happy fellow this morning, aren’t you?”

“It’s the harvest! We’re almost there!”

Aurélien took Jules by the arm, and they made their way to the cellar.

“I’m warning you, son, I’m going to hold you responsible for everything this year. So you’d better be sure of yourself, otherwise we’re done with your initiatives and your innovations!”

Jules began to defend himself, forgetting all about Laurène.

As he was getting dressed for his meeting, Aurélien thought about Robert and Louis-Marie’s impending departure and felt little sadness. He liked them both, but was getting tired of living with them. And with the harvest right around the corner, he couldn’t stand anything that would distract him, even if only a little.

When he was ready, he left his room and walked over to the garage. He gave Robert’s Porsche a derisive glance. He thought that indulging in such whims at the age of thirty-six was completely idiotic.

I’d done so much by the time I was thirty-six!
he thought.

He’d put Fonteyne back in order, expanded it by purchasing lands as soon as he found them, raised his four sons. Thinking of his youth made Aurélien smile. He’d been, just like Jules, both a ladies’ man and a brawler. His cheerfulness evaporated at the thought of his adopted son. He didn’t want to talk to him directly about it, but he worried about how tired he looked.

Laurène will be gone, but that doesn’t mean we’re necessarily going to have peace and quiet. And what about that secretary? I’m going to have to ask Varin about her. …

He took a look at the clock on the dashboard. He had plenty of time to go visit Antoine before heading for Bordeaux, where the meeting was being held.

Marie greeted Aurélien kindly, flattered by his visit, and she took him to Antoine’s bedroom. Aurélien stopped for a second on the threshold, taken aback by how bad his old friend looked.

“So, you’re still here, you lazy bum?”

“As you can see. …”

They looked at each other, both made uneasy by Antoine’s sickness. They had been friends for a long time, though these past few years they’d spent time together only during lavish feasts, mostly at Fonteyne.

“Alex is very nice, you know.”

“You’re telling me! He’s spending way too much time around here.”

This was said only half-jokingly, and Antoine got upset.

“It’s for his own good,” he said. “Alex is going to be in charge of my vineyards sooner or later.”

“Hopefully not sooner than later,” Aurélien said. “You’re not dead yet! And I can’t see Alex producing white wine his entire life, the poor guy. …”

Antoine started to laugh, amused by Aurélien’s spite.

“He doesn’t seem to mind it,” he said. “At least in Mazion, he does what he pleases. You have to be made out of rock, like Jules, to be able to stand you. At least that’s what I hear. …”

Aurélien, on the verge of anger, frowned.

“Say what you want,” he said, “I do miss Alex back at Fonteyne.”

“You’ve got Jules, Lucas, and the supervisors! You can harvest without him.”

Right away Antoine regretted having said those words. Aurélien’s eyes were ablaze with fury.

“Alex will be on my land when harvest comes, I’ll tell you that much right now! I don’t give a damn about your vineyards.”

Antoine raised his hand to make Aurélien stop.

“Come on, calm down. You’re not going to make a scene here. I’m sick, remember?”

“So what? I’m not the Red Cross, and neither are my sons!”

“Damn it, Aurélien. It bothers you that much that your sons are helping me out?”

“Yes!”

This cry from the heart made Antoine angry.

“Your sons like me, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m Alex’s father-in-law, and Jules would’ve liked to be in the same position.”

Aurélien, wild with rage, exploded in spite of himself.

“You’re out of your mind! You think your wishes are reality? Yes, wouldn’t you love to have two Laverzacs as sons-in-law? You could keep one for yourself, is that it? But it’s not going to happen! My estate is huge. It’s not some two-bit operation, and I need all my people. You can’t be comparing my land with yours—that’s insane!”

Antoine straightened in his bed. He was pale as a ghost.

“Yes …” he said, slowly. “It’s true that you let two of your four sons go. … Not everyone has a passion for the land in your family. … Listen, Aurélien, if you hadn’t had the brilliant idea of adopting Jules, you’d be neck-deep in troubles today. … You think it’s easy for me to have two daughters and a son-in-law busy elsewhere? I worked just as hard as you did, even if I didn’t succeed as much as you, even if it’s not on the same scale, even if my wine is less noble. … But I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and my wife’s family didn’t own a bunch of land. You think you’re the cat’s meow, but you don’t impress me one bit!”

Aurélien knew he’d gone over the line earlier, but no one in years had dared talk to him the way Antoine just had.

“My poor Antoine,” he said. “You try to scare me with those three or four measly vines of yours, then make me feel sorry for you and your woes. I never would’ve expected it from you. That heart attack made you weak.”

Antoine suppressed a curse and called out in a loud voice, “Marie! Marie!”

As he waited for his wife to arrive, he glared at Aurélien. As soon as she walked into the room, he said, “Show Aurélien to the door. I don’t ever want to see this son of a bitch in my house again.”

In Marie’s presence, Aurélien couldn’t back down. Even though he realized he’d been out of line, he clammed up and stormed out of Antoine’s room. Marie, though distressed, did nothing to stop him.

Jules was smoking in the darkness of the bedroom, happy to feel Laurène sleeping right against him. She displayed so much inexperience during their lovemaking that he found himself deeply moved. She’d made huge efforts during the day not to look or smile at him, for fear of betraying herself. But she beamed with joy—anyone would have had to be blind not to see it. A couple of times Aurélien had observed her, intrigued. Jules wondered how he was going to tell his father about him and Laurène. And how he’d react to the news!

He caressed Laurène’s soft and warm skin. He’d stubbornly and passionately wanted her. Still, her departure for Mazion, far from driving him to despair, almost relieved him.

He heard the sound of the Mercedes and realized that he’d unconsciously been waiting for Aurélien’s return. He listened to the noises of the house and suddenly held his breath. Aurélien was coming up the stairs instead of heading down to his room. Jules jumped out of bed, put on his jeans in a hurry, and slipped into the hallway. He barely made it to his bedroom before Aurélien walked in and hit the light switch.

“You awake?”

Without waiting for an answer, Aurélien went over to the old leather armchair by the fireplace and sat down heavily.

“What a night,” he grumbled.

Jules remained on the defensive, surprised still by this unexpected visit. Aurélien almost never set foot upstairs.

“Something wrong?” he ventured.

Aurélien looked at him and asked, “You always sleep in your jeans?” He wasn’t smiling, keeping his morose expression. “Jules …” he said, “what would happen if Antoine and I had … a falling-out?”

The words stunned Jules. He stared at his father, then got out of bed and walked toward the armchair.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s already happened?”

“Yes. … I’m not sure what really happened. I’ve had too much to drink since. … I think it had to do with Alex. And you.”

Jules tried to imagine what might’ve occurred between the two men.

“What about Alex and me?” he asked.

“I’ve given you so much leeway, each and every one of you. …”

He did seem to be drunk, as he’d said, but he was keeping his cool.

He continued, “That old fool would love for you to be his second son-in-law. And, by some kind of double-dealing, for Alex to fall into his trap for good. He’s had that in mind for a long time, and now he’s trying to plan for his retirement. He’s always been jealous of us. … Talk about a phony friendship. He wants my vineyards for his grandchildren and for my son to do all the work for him to boot!”

Jules listened to his father, horrified.

“And let me tell you one thing, Jules. There’s no way Alex won’t be here with us for the harvest. Until the very last grape on the very last parcel of land is picked. I’m still in charge around here!”

Hesitant, Jules took a couple of steps toward his father.

“Maybe we should talk about all this tomorrow?” he said.

“No!”

“You’re not really in any shape to discuss this—”

Jules conciliatory voice was interrupted by Aurélien’s scathing tone.

“I’m warning you, you’re going to wind up in the doghouse if you keep this up.”