A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (46 page)

Mr. Varin sighed. He still remembered the headaches he got from Aurélien’s demands.

“As you also know, the last statutes make you manager for life. No decision can be imposed upon you. The consultation with your shareholders is virtually … pure formality! Your powers are unlimited.”

Jules was glaring at the notary, fighting hard the urge to unleash his anger on him.

“You know,” he said, “that Fonteyne is a well-oiled machine, and it’s continuing to prosper. There’s nothing my brother can blame me for!”

“Oh, but he’s not. He’s not suggesting that you’re mismanaging the estate, but he claims that he was kicked out of it. He finds your powers excessive, and he thinks that your father overstepped his rights by tampering with the company’s statutes in order to favor you in an outrageous way. …”

“Tamper? Aurélien?”

Jules got to his feet, standing tall behind his desk. Varin thought that Alexandre was making a mistake confronting him.

“In the immediate,” he said, “a judge is going to look into the legitimacy of the challenge. Then, there’s undoubtedly going to be a thorough examination of the statutes, as well as all the modifications that your father brought about during the last year of his life. …”

Aurélien’s image had been consuming Jules for the past few minutes. He could see his adoptive father’s sardonic smile. He particularly remembered one thing he’d said, “You’re going to have your brothers on your back, but you’re going to have a free hand, and you’re the only one I can trust Fonteyne with.”

“You’re having lunch with us,” Jules suddenly said.

This was more an order than an invitation, and Varin had little choice but to acquiesce.

“You’ll have to excuse me for one second,” Jules said. “I have to tell Fernande about you staying, and I’ll ask her to bring us something to drink.”

Jules walked out of the room, and Varin settled in his blond leather armchair. He knew that all this would earn him some fees, but it would come with so much hassle that he preferred not to think about it. Jules was going to involve him in an all-out war, and losing it was out of the question. Otherwise, his reputation would be tarnished, if not ruined. Jules Laverzac was one of highest profile wine producers in the entire Bordeaux region. He would be backed by all the other bigwigs in the industry. And it was up to him, Varin, to make sure that every clause of Aurélien’s will was upheld, hoping there were no flaws in the document and, above all, that no mistakes in the writing of any section had been made, either by him or one of his clerks. He took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his forehead. Samson was going to be a formidable foe, and Alexandre must’ve promised her the moon if they came out victorious. Varin told himself he was getting too old for this kind of battle, yet at the same time he knew that he had no choice but to fight it.

As for Jules, he’d stopped in the entrance hall. One hand gripping the staircase banister, he was struggling to control his anger. If Alexandre had been standing right there in front of him, Jules would have gone for this throat.

“Varin is gone?”

He turned and tried to smile at Laurène.

“No. He’s still in my office.”

“What’s wrong?”

She walked to him, brows furrowed.

“Alex is contesting Aurélien’s will,” Jules snapped. “He’s taking us to court.”

Laurène opened her mouth but closed it without saying a word. They looked at each other for a second, and then Jules hugged her.

“I told Varin to stay for lunch so we can talk about it all in detail. Tell Fernande to bring us a …” He hesitated for a second. “Tell Lucas to choose one of our best bottles. And, during lunch, we’ll have a Palmer 1988.”

Laurène burrowed her nose into Jules’s neck and smiled.

“You’re trying to wow him?” she said.

“No. I just want him to remember where he is, and who he’s dealing with. And that we’re not going to fool around. …”

He let Laurène go and headed back toward the office.

“Wait!” Laurène said.

She ran to him and asked, “Are you okay, Jules?”

He smiled at her.

“I’m going to have to deal with it. If Alex wants war, he’s going to get it. And he’s going to lose, as always. The guy is a natural-born loser.”

He spoke the words without bitterness yet with a trace of cold disdain in his voice. Obviously, Alex was now nothing but an enemy of Fonteyne. Laurène shivered and hurried over to the kitchen. As soon as she informed Fernande of what was going on, the old lady had to sit down.

“He’s not really doing that. …” she said, shaking her head.

Laurène also sat down, feeling faint all of a sudden.

“And nobody can make him change his mind? Reason with him? Not even your sister?”

Fernande had a lot of respect for Dominique. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t stopped her husband from doing such a foolish thing. Laurène recognized the implications of Fernande’s questions. Yes, there had been a time when Alex wouldn’t have done anything without his wife’s approval. But he’d changed these past few weeks.

“It’s true that he’s behaving oddly now,” Laurène said out loud.

“He never should’ve left,” Fernande whispered. “He belongs here, with his brother, on the family’s land. …”

Laurène made an effort to get back up.

“We have to prepare lunch,” she said, with little conviction.

Fernande lifted her head and scrutinized the young woman.

“You don’t look so good,” she said.

“It’s all that business …”

Fernande got up and went over to the oven. She muttered, as much at herself as at Laurène, “I know Jules, he’s going to break Alexandre. To go against Aurélien’s wishes … Alex couldn’t have made a bigger mistake. …”

Laurène knew very well that Fernande was right. She sighed, beleaguered.

Jules hung up and cracked a smile. His first of the day. Speaking with Robert had slightly lessened the anger that he couldn’t shake. Right after the notary left, he’d called his brother at the hospital to tell him about the situation, saying that he’d like to count on his presence, as well as Louis-Marie’s. Alex’s declaration of war couldn’t be taken lightly, and all four of Aurélien’s descendants were invested in Fonteyne’s fate. Robert offered to give his brother power of attorney, but Jules wouldn’t go for it. He wanted this to be handled out in the open, he said, in the presence of his brothers, and with their advice. Robert finally gave in after running out of arguments, and promised to be in Margaux on Friday night.

Jules lit a cigarette. He was now going to phone Louis-Marie. Then he’d tell Fernande that everyone was coming for the weekend. A visit from the Parisians always meant a feast and, though the present circumstances weren’t particularly festive, they had to be welcomed according to tradition, by putting out a spectacular spread.

Laurène had walked along the
cours
Georges-Clemenceau for a good while. She’d gazed at a variety of shop windows, without finding anything to her taste. She looked forward to seeing Pauline, Louis-Marie, and Robert. She’d come to Bordeaux to find a dress or an outfit, but nothing she’d seen so far had spoken to her. She ended up going to a café, where she went down her list of purchases. She lifted her head after a couple of minutes, now certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. She’d left the Civic in a public car park, its trunk filled with food.

Just like in the good old days
, she thought with melancholy.

Fonteyne was going to be a cheerful place again and that would make Jules happy, she was convinced of that. In spite of the unhappy situation bringing the family together.

She sighed as she watched the hordes of shoppers go by the café on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful spring day, and she should be joyful, but all she felt was the painful sensation of solitude. She was getting lost in gloomy thoughts when a familiar voice startled her. She turned around and smiled. Dominique was making her way toward her, zigzagging between tables.

“From behind, you look you like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Dominique said.

They kissed and Dominique sat next to Laurène. She ordered a coffee before lighting a cigarette.

“You smoke?” Laurène asked, surprised.

“Once in a while. …”

They looked at each other and smiled.

“You know what’s going on, right?” Dominique said. “With Alex, I mean. …”

Laurène nodded, guessing how embarrassed her sister must be. A moment of silence followed.

“Varin himself came over this morning,” Laurène then said.

“And Jules? How did he take it?”

“Not well. Not well at all.”

Dominique nervously put out her cigarette. Laurène put a hand on her forearm, as if to console her.

“Why did you let him do that?” Laurène asked.

“It’s not like he asked for my opinion!” Dominique said.

The two sisters’ eyes met. They understood each other perfectly. Both were certain of one thing: An irreparable catastrophe had fallen on the family.

“He drinks too much,” Dominique said. “He’s always in a foul mood. He knows he shouldn’t have left Fonteyne, but he won’t admit it. All his anger is focused on Jules. I never would’ve believed he could hate him so much! And no matter what I say, he won’t listen. …”

Dominique had blurted out the words. Laurène had never seen her so vulnerable before.

“It’s true that he’s changed,” she said.

“Changed? He’s like a different man. Even with the twins he’s … almost indifferent.”

Dominique leaned toward Laurène and whispered, “I am so worried.”

Naturally more cheerful, open, and serene than her younger sister, Dominique was usually as comforting and positive as Marie. That’s why Laurène was so surprised by her admission. Dominique loved Alex, and she must’ve been concerned, but there was something more.

“You’re not happy at Mazion?” Laurène suddenly asked.

Dominique smiled at her.

“I don’t feel at home there. … And I’m not a kid anymore. …”

Laurène nodded knowingly. She wouldn’t go back to her parents’ unless she had to, either.

“When Alex and I talked about the move, it seemed like deliverance to him. Some sort of paradise. I didn’t want to contradict him because, at that moment, everyone else was contradicting him. But I miss Fonteyne terribly, and I think he does, too.”

“Of course,” Laurène said, “once you’ve lived at Fonteyne …”

She said that without thinking, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. They were both turning their backs on their childhood house, without regret or remorse. Dominique had the painful impression that she’d regressed. Moving to Mazion hadn’t provided Alex what he’d hoped for, while making his wife bitter. For weeks, she’d tried to take pleasure in her new life, to no avail. Then she thought that an eventual return to Fonteyne might not necessarily be impossible, and she began to dream about it. She’d come up with all kinds of plans to make her dream come true, but Alex had destroyed everything by legally challenging his father’s will. Dominique knew that Jules could never forgive him.

“Do you also think that the will was unfair?” Laurène asked, very softly. “Do you think that Aurélien … favored Jules?”

Dominique looked at her sister for a second, and then said, “Yes, I do. He did favor him. But …”

She hesitated, searching for the right words to say, and then she blurted out, “But he was right. Everybody knows he was right. It made perfect sense. Jules is the best, you have to admit it, even if it’s very … irritating. I’m saying that to you, but I’d never say it in front of Alex. He needs support so badly! I’m going to have to be on his side, you know … against you and Jules … because, of course, you’re going to do the same as me and support the man you love. …”

Dominique seemed to be on the verge of tears, and Laurène turned aside so as not to embarrass her sister. She looked out the window, at the street’s heavy traffic. She felt tired again, overwhelmed. A silhouette, in the crowd out there, looked familiar to her. She realized it was a pregnant woman, and she knew no one who was pregnant. She paid it no mind, too absorbed by her worries.

“I have to pick up the twins from school,” Dominique said with a sigh.

She was already on her feet, and Laurène grabbed her by the arm.

“Come see me at Fonteyne,” she said. “I’m always the one going to Mazion. …”

Dominique nodded but said nothing.

Jules was up very early, as usual, and he’d already gotten a lot of work done by the time he had breakfast. Fernande put the tray down on a corner of the desk and lingered a while to discuss the weekend’s menu. Jules made two or three suggestions, then went back to his paperwork. If Fernande asked him for suggestions, he thought, it was because Laurène wasn’t being as helpful as she should. But Laurène was too young, and no doubt too timid, to make decisions by herself. This absence of maturity both delighted and annoyed Jules. Laurène was still an adorable girl in many ways, unable to firmly take hold of a house as impressive as Fonteyne.

And yet she’s going to have to do it eventually,
Jules thought,
whether there are two of us here or fifteen. …

He smiled as he pictured her in bed, rolled up in a ball under the blankets, with Botty snuggled up against her. Jules wondered for a second if Pauline couldn’t give Laurène a few tips, but he rejected the idea. Pauline had a self-confidence that Laurène lacked, but she was just as much a woman-child; domestic issues bored her, and her Parisian snobbery was often out of place.

He finished his cup of coffee, stretched, and then went over to the fireplace to toss in an extra log. Clothilde grumbled when she had to clean up the hearth, but Jules loved his fire too much to give it up. He poked at the embers, set down the heavy fire tongs, and remained in front of the flames for a moment, leaning against the mantel. Thinking of his brothers’ arrival made him happy. He knew that Robert was leaving Paris that very evening, and he couldn’t wait to see him.

He’s going to drive like a madman part of the night. … He’s going to be at Fonteyne before Louis-Marie has even had time to put Pauline’s luggage in his car.