A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (13 page)

“You know that Varin sent the documents,” Aurélien said suddenly. “They’re in my desk. Did you sign them?”

Jules shook his head, ill at ease. His curls fell helter-skelter on his forehead.

“Since my brothers are all here, I figured that …”

He didn’t dare say more than that and waited. Aurélien kept quiet. Jules put out his cigarette and felt like he had to continue.

“I don’t want them to think one day that … that …”

He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to his father.

“Go wake them up, then,” Aurélien said in a sarcastic voice. “Let’s have a family meeting! I’ll tell them about my plans and then we’ll all take a vote. How’s that?”

Aurélien took three strides and planted himself in front of Jules. He was shaking, unable to dominate his anger.

“Who the hell do you think I am?” he bellowed. “Where do you think you are? You’re going to do as I say, the four of you! And you, just like the others!”

It took a while for the library to settle into silence after the outburst. Jules had straightened, no longer leaning on the ladder. He slipped between his father and the bookcases.

“Of course,” was all he said, in a very calm tone.

He crossed the room and left. Aurélien buried his hands in his robe’s pockets. After a few moments, Jules came back, a stack of papers in his hand. He set them on the desk and began to sign each document, one by one, giving the ink time to dry. When he was done, he handed the papers to Aurélien, who took them without a word. His anger, which he knew had been uncalled for, was subsiding only slowly. They remained silent and still for a few minutes.

Finally, Aurélien shrugged and grumbled, “I’ve had just about enough of defending myself in my own house. …”

Jules decided to leave. He headed for the door but stopped on the threshold. He turned to his father, in an impulse of tenderness that Aurélien recognized as such right away.

He’s the spitting image of his mother, Aurélien thought. The bitch. …

“I can’t remember if I thanked you,” Jules said.

“What for?” Aurélien replied, his voice icy. He didn’t want to succumb to sentimentality.

His son’s smile was elusive.

“For the boots,” Jules muttered before stepping out of the office.

The following morning, with the weather still dreadful, Aurélien asked Fernande for his breakfast at 6:45. He congratulated her at length for the previous evening’s feast, then dismissed her. He poured himself some coffee, deep in his thoughts. He felt tired.

I’m really not twenty anymore. …

He didn’t add any sugar to his coffee, having decided to put himself on a diet of his own making.

Robert is right, I ought to be careful. … I don’t care about sugar, but as for the rest …

He glanced at the door and couldn’t help but smile.

In a few minutes, Jules is going to be here. He’s going to knock on the door so softly I won’t hear it. He’s going to tell me how the soil is handling all that rain, after his regular morning tour. He won’t say a word about his new status as manager, though God knows the situation must weigh on him! But he knows full well that I want to give him Fonteyne intact and this is the only way. …

For a long time, Aurélien had known that Jules was the one who was going to succeed him as head of the company. And Jules knew him so well!

It’s like the ugly duckling in the fable. … The little one, so different from the others. … But Jules was never bothered by anything. Not even Lucie’s death. He was too young. And already so determined!

Aurélien was still smiling when the door opened.

“Of course …” he said. “Did you knock?”

“I did,” Jules said, a look of surprise on his face.

To Aurélien, Jules seemed tall. Tall and very young.

“Ah,” he whispered, “if only I was your age. …”

He gestured for Jules to have a seat and asked, “You want some coffee?”

“Yes. And I’d like to know what you’d do if you were thirty.”

“I’d screw Laurène, of course!”

Jules raised his head abruptly and met his father’s cold stare. There was a moment of hostility between them.

“For her father’s land or just for the fun of it?” asked Jules with his usual insolence.

“Both. It wouldn’t be a bad deal. … And don’t you go and bail on me. Every time you’re upset, you up and disappear. It’s a completely immature attitude. …”

Aurélien, who seemed to be enjoying giving Jules a hard time, continued, “Don’t tell me you prefer Camille!”

“No. …”

“In any case, just take it easy on that front. Maurice is very touchy. …”

“You’re the one who invited them!” Jules said, losing patience.

Aurélien shook his head mockingly.

“You don’t understand what I’m saying. If you want to marry Camille, go ahead. It wouldn’t be a bad business move. But if it’s just for a fling, don’t go for Caze’s daughter. There are plenty of women around for a roll in the hay. People of your generation, you’re clueless when it comes to the importance of smart marriages and successful alliances. That’s how the Médoc dynasties work. They always have. …”

Jules wanted to get up but forced himself to stay put.

“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked. “I never knew you to be so nosy.”

Aurélien stood in a very abrupt manner.

“Nosy? Me?”

He was trying to find words, out of breath. Jules looked to the side. He was taken aback when Aurélien said, “Maybe you’re right, after all. …”

Aurélien had gotten ahold of himself. Calmly, he continued, “You’re going to have to go to Bordeaux and fix things. Thank God Alex didn’t sign anything. You’re going to have to make Amel understand that his conditions are unacceptable. They’re laughable! And then you can go by city hall to sort out the contracted employees business. What’s the story with the laborers?”

“My only problem is coming up with the harvest dates.”

“Dates. … What we need is a few days of sun!”

Jules walked to one of the windows.

“Don’t know when we’re going to get that,” he said. “But I’ll take the risk and wait some more. We’ll see after we assess ripeness.”

Aurélien let out a sigh. He didn’t want to think about the harvest.

“I’m sick and tired of this weather!” he blurted out.

Resigned, Jules shrugged.

“Everybody’s sick and tired of it,” he said.

He left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. In the hallway, he came across Laurène.

“You’re on your way to see Aurélien?” Jules asked with a smile. “Let me warn you, he’s in a foul mood.”

“Well so am I,” the young woman barked.

She was still seething at the thought of Jules inviting Camille to the restaurant the previous evening. Going straight to Aurélien’s office, she made sure he didn’t need her right away, and then headed for her sister’s house. Dominique was surprised to see her in the kitchen this early in the day but offered no comment. Together they made breakfast for the children.

Laurène finally opened her mouth to say, “I see that since the Parisians are here, you’re stuck with Esther on top of your own kids?”

Dominique shrugged.

“It’s no big deal. … The boys are so happy to have their cousin around, it’d be a shame to keep them apart.”

“Do you think that Pauline is a good mother?”

“Between you and I? No.”

They both laughed, though without malice.

“That was some dinner last night,” Dominique said. “Aurélien really goes all out when it comes to Jules.”

She was very pretty in her white robe, and for a moment Laurène envied her sister’s apparent serenity.

Out of the blue, she asked, “What do you think of Robert?”

Dominique gave her an inquisitive glance before saying, “Bob? He’s nice … but he always looks like he’s thinking of something else.”

“Do you find him attractive?”

“No! I mean, he’s handsome and he’s got those eyes. … And he does have a lot going for him—the swanky car, the big-time job, and that tender side of his personality. But after five minutes, I don’t know what to say to him. I guess I find him a bit superficial. Like he only cares about his ambitions. Why? You’re interested in him?”

She was warming milk, her back turned to Laurène. She added, “You’re wasting your time going after Bob. You should look elsewhere.”

Laurène slammed a bowl down on the kitchen table.

“You mean Jules? I can’t believe you!”

“Listen …”

“No, you listen to me. I put Jules on a pedestal, and I was crazy about him, it’s true. And everybody was giving me dirty looks. You just as much as the others! Aurélien seemed outraged every time he found us alone in the same room, and Jules was pretty much ignoring me anyway. All he cares about is Fonteyne! Work and nothing else.”

“Not always. …” Dominique said.

“You’re right. Did you see him last night with Camille? He can be so charming, that Jules. But deep down, he doesn’t care about women, except to boink one once in a while. I know him. If you only knew what I’ve heard about him, here and there. It’s like he’s slept with every single woman in the region. He’s nothing but a womanizer and he’s all about me, myself, and I. …”

Dominique had let Laurène raise her voice. She sat at the table and began buttering the toast.

“I think that more than anything else,” she said after a while, “he’s shy. As for carousing, Robert is much worse than he is. With him, if he cares about you, it’s going to be for no more than five minutes. Tops. But go ahead, try your luck. He’s here and he’s a free man, so give it your best shot! Have fun!”

Stunned, Laurène stared at her sister.

“You’re telling me that …”

“Yes! I don’t want you to remain a good little girl under Aurélien’s thumb forever. It’s time for you to have a life. You’re not a kid anymore.”

With a bitter smile on her face, Laurène shook her head.

“Those are just words, Dominique. … What do you want me to do?”

“For crying out loud! When I wanted Alex, I knew what to do. Nothing scared me. Not Aurélien, not Fonteyne, not the brothers. It’s up to you to decide.”

Laurène got up. She seemed on the verge of tears.

“Have a cup of coffee,” Dominique told her.

“No, I have work to do,” Laurène muttered. “I’ve got to go.”

She kissed her sister and left the house. She walked up the driveway, lost in her thoughts. An unexpected sun was shining on the vines. She stopped to look around her, relieved at the sight of such a radiant morning. She gazed at the perfectly blue sky and wondered how long the clearing would last. The sound of the Mercedes made her turn around. Jules went by her, slowing down and avoiding the puddles so as not to splash her. He didn’t wave at her, and he wore sunglasses so she couldn’t read his expression.

Louis-Marie and Alexandre, involuntarily, were whispering instead of speaking naturally. They’d gone down to the lowest part of the cellar, on the third level, where Aurélien kept his rarest and most precious bottles. As though they’d gone back in time twenty years, both were as giddy as high school kids with the feeling of having entered some forbidden territory. The number one prize of the collection, a magnum of Margaux dating back to 1875, was still in its spot. Louis-Marie was reconnecting with the odors of his youth, and Alexandre’s words were soothing to him.

“The eighty-four Rauzan-Gassies 1955, the Palmers 1961, Malescot, Saint-Exupéry, Labegorce, Kirwan … As you can see, nothing has been touched. I don’t think they’ll ever be opened.”

“And there are the Lascombes,” Louis-Marie said. “But wait, some bottles are missing over there.”

“Yes, the 1969 Boyd-Cantenac,” Alexandre said. “We had them at Christmas last year. It was actually a bit disappointing.”

He pointed at an empty rack and said, “The fabulous Larruau we drank last night. Your wife didn’t have any. That’s too bad.”

“She’d had enough wine already, believe me!”

They both laughed and continued their exploration. They didn’t really have to read the labels to know what was where. Besides, the labels were covered with dust. Louis-Marie was a bit surprised to realize how well he remembered the place.

“Which one should we open?” he asked his brother. “A Durfort-Vivens 1975?”

Alexandre gave him an incredulous look.

“What? The two of us? Right now?”

“Yes! I’ll plead insanity if we get caught! Come on, let’s do it.”

Alexandre hesitated but then took out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket. He pulled out the corkscrew, looked at Louis-Marie, and said, “Let’s do it.”

They fetched the glass they’d spotted in another part of the cellar and rinsed it. Alexandre cautiously opened the precious bottle, and the two brothers sat on the ground and spent a long while drinking, saying very little.

Louis-Marie finally broke their eloquent silence by muttering, “My God, this is amazing. …”

He filled the glass once again and asked, “Alex, are you happy here?”

“Of course,” his brother answered. “Thanks to Dominique and my sons.”

Louis-Marie thought about those words and then asked, “What about Jules? He’s giving you a hard time, isn’t he?”

“No.”

Alexandre’s smile was sincere, unequivocal.

“He’s so good at it! And he does so much for the estate. …”

“It’s also his estate,” Louis-Marie pointed out. “Tell me, Alex …”

He hesitated, not certain what words to use. Alexandre waited patiently.

“I’ve often wondered … How can I say it? I have the impression that Jules and Dad are … They’re up to something together. …”

Alexandre had a sip of wine, saying nothing, staring off into the distance.

Louis-Marie insisted, “Their relationship is too intense! They’re always eyeing each other, testing each other. Like they’re always competing. …”

“They have to run things together and they butt heads. But Dad knows full well that without Jules, Fonteyne—”

“Come on!”

“No,” Alexandre said, slowly. “It’s true. He’s not just the good son, good student you think he is. Everything done around here that’s new and progressive is because of Jules. He has this business in his blood. He always knows everything before everybody else. No matter what happens, he knows how to make the best of it. He’s almost never wrong. Of course, he can get on people’s nerves, but you can’t hold it against him, you can’t hate him, because he’s such a nice guy. You know that sometimes he’d bottle-feed my boys on the days Dominique was out running errands? As obsessed as he is with the vineyards, he’ll do anything to help others. Just ask Fernande.”