A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (75 page)

“Dressed this way? Fernande …”

He looked at her, both delighted and worried.

“I’m going to drive you home,” he said. “You’ll put on warm clothes, promise? And then you can watch Clothilde work, but I don’t want you to do anything. Okay?”

“I swear,” she said. “And don’t worry. I’m no longer contagious, and I won’t go near the baby just in case.”

He burst out laughing, thrilled that she was there, that she’d found a way to come back by herself, that she hadn’t been able to stay away from them.

“Look who’s here!” Alex said, coming down the stairs. “You ran away from the hospital?”

Fernande turned to him, stunned, before glancing at Jules, who smiled without offering any explanation about Alex’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“That pain in the neck invited me to spend Christmas Eve. And then to hang out here for a while. You know …”

Fernande shook her head slowly. She was stunned by the brothers’ reconciliation. She wanted to ask a question, but Dominique burst into the entrance hall, and everyone began to speak at the same time. And then Alex offered to get the car and take Fernande home himself. He promised to first stop over at the cellar to let Lucas know.

Fernande’s return made them all cheerful. Her presence made them feel younger and, in a way, protected. Jules walked to his office, whistling. He’d managed to bring the family back together, pretty much. Except for Pauline and Robert, but that situation was beyond his control.

He glanced at the phone, scratched his chin for a second, then started to dial the Billots’ number. Laurène hadn’t talked to him about it, nor had Dominique. But Marie must have been waiting for his call, he was certain of it.

Because he wanted everybody to be together, Jules had authorized the children to eat in the dining room. Esther and the twins had solemnly sworn that they were going to behave. As Lucas was invited, Jules asked Fernande to join them. She’d never sat at the Laverzacs’ table, and she declined the offer, horrified. Jules insisted but she wouldn’t relent, as always. That her husband be invited, as cellar master, was one thing, but she simply could not imagine being one of the guests. Christmas or not, she wanted to supervise her kitchen and stay there instead. She was so insistent about it that Jules had no choice but to accept her decision.

Marie and Antoine Billot’s arrival at eight o’clock stunned everyone. Mrs. Billot, in her wheelchair, had a conqueror’s expression as she entered the library. Until the very last moment, Jules had kept it a surprise for Laurène and Dominique. Marie gave Alex a friendly greeting, and then went straight for little Lucie-Malvoisie, asleep in one of the twins’ arms.

Two hours later, as they all sat at the table, Jules was able to appreciate the monumental effort Laurène had put into decorating the dining room. In Pauline’s absence, she’d taken care of the task by herself. She hadn’t asked Dominique for help, as she was busy preparing the meal. She’d taken advantage of the baby’s nap to go through the huge closets upstairs to find precious objects such as cloisonné vases, antique enamel ashtrays, crystal candleholders, and porcelain cherubs. She’d carefully displayed each one. She was rewarded with the children’s awestruck expressions as they were shown to their seats. Jules was presiding and placed Marie to his right. Laurène sat between her father and Lucas, while Dominique had Alex and Louis-Marie at her sides. When Clothilde and Fernande came in to serve the hot foie gras, they rediscovered the atmosphere of family reunions of the past.

Jules raised his glass to toast Fonteyne and the Laverzacs. Doing so, he looked at Alex and smiled at him. His brother seemed happy to be home, in spite of everything that had happened.

I don’t know what you would’ve done in my place, Aurélien,
Jules thought,
but he had to come back. …

Jules thought about his father with both tenderness and respect, as he had in the past. And he hoped it would always be this way. Fernande’s revelation had changed nothing. Jules, who, in a deliberate act, had almost been his own brother’s murderer, couldn’t condemn his father for having killed involuntarily. And all he wanted to think about was the future. He had a family to take care of.

“You’ve brought us all together,” Marie whispered to Jules, putting a hand on his. “I don’t know how you did it, but it was the right thing, you know. …”

She looked at him with affection that overwhelmed him.

“There are mountains of presents to put under the tree,” he told her in a low voice. “I’ll leave toward the end of the meal, and we’ll tell the children that Santa came by during dinner, okay?”

“You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

“No. Tonight. I want you guys to be here, with them. I want us to go to bed late, I want us to have fun.”

“You’re such a kid,” Marie said.

Jules laughed at her comment.

“What are you guys talking about?” Antoine grumbled.

He didn’t want to be left out. He still felt a lot of bitterness toward Jules, without realizing that he’d transferred onto the young man all the resentment he’d had for Aurélien. He’d never felt comfortable at Fonteyne and couldn’t understand how his daughters and wife could like it here so much. Or how Alex could stand to sit at this table.

“We’re talking about the future,” Jules said.

“Ah, yes,” Antoine said, “the future. … Tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m going to wind up alone in Mazion, right?”

Jules nodded, a sparkle of irony in his dark eyes.

“You know,” he said with a smile, “it’s been so heavy on all of our hearts around here. …We all feel Aurélien’s absence. … But I have a feeling that between Louis-Marie, Alex, and me, we’re going to manage. …”

Antoine shrugged. No doubt about it, Jules was getting on his nerves.

“Pauline staying in Paris?” he asked, knowing he was putting his foot in his mouth.

“Yes,” Jules said, quickly. “I hope that you like lobster, Antoine.”

The look he gave his father-in-law told him in no uncertain terms to change the topic.

“Should we invite Mr. Varin and Dr. Auber for New Year’s Eve next week?” Laurène asked.

Jules was pleasantly surprised by her excellently timed diversion, and he gave her a grateful smile.

“I guess so,” Louis-Marie said. “They’ve been coming here on New Year’s Eve for years. It’s like a tradition now.”

“There’s no way out of it,” agreed Jules. “But we have to admit that they’ve been very useful to Fonteyne this year.”

Alex was the first to laugh, indicating he wasn’t offended by the comment. Then he turned to Mrs. Billot to chat with her, but saw that the old lady was contemplating her great-grandkids at the far end of the table. She’d always been in awe of the fact that those kids, her descendants, were part of the Laverzac dynasty. Alexandre asked for the water carafe and Dominique handed it to him. He’d kept his promise and was no longer drinking. But he still didn’t dare touch his wife much, afraid to rush things with her.

“You know that Bernard cleaned up the Little House inside out?” Dominique suddenly told him.

He smelled her perfume and smiled at her.

“You’d like to go back there?” he said. “To flee my little brother’s tyranny?”

He said that jokingly, without lowering his voice. The word
brother
had come to him spontaneously. His gaze met Jules’s, and he felt at peace with himself.

“I always loved that house,” Dominique said. “And we were happy there.”

He took his wife’s hand, under the table, and let go of it only when Fernande served the venison.

“I received my Christmas present this morning,” Louis-Marie then said. “The mailman brought it to me.”

He had a look of false modesty about him.

Intrigued, Jules said, “And this present, you’re going to show it to us or is it top secret?”

Louis-Marie reached inside his jacket breast pocket and set a small white book on the tablecloth, next to his plate.

“As you can see,” he said, “it’s a novel.”

“Give it to me!” Jules shouted.

Dominique passed the book to him, and he examined it with obvious glee.

“Even if you only have one copy, it’s mine! And I want you to sign it for me right this second!”

Jules’s enthusiasm was genuine. He was thrilled at the thought that Louis-Marie had finally published the book, which, in a way, was going to liberate him from Pauline.

“I’m meeting with my publisher’s publicity people in Paris the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll bring back a few more copies, since you stole that one.”

“Can I see, too?” Alex asked. “Just a peek?”

Jules smiled at his brother as he handed him the novel.

“It’s not because I think everything is owed to me,” he said, “it’s just that I was first to speak up.”

Alex laughed at this unexpected justification. He examined the book and noticed that Louis-Marie had dedicated it to his daughter. Then everyone wanted to look at it, including the children, but Jules wound up getting it back in the end.

It was almost midnight, and the twins were yawning. Deciding it was time to play Santa, Jules snuck away from the table for the main living room, where the Christmas tree towered. In the hallway, he ran into Clothilde, who’d just made sure, once again, that the baby was sleeping in her crib upstairs.

“I’ll check on her again in fifteen minutes,” she promised, before heading for the kitchen.

Jules put the countless presents that Laurène had bought under the tree. Then he took a step back and smiled at the sight of it all. How many times had he wished for such-and-such a toy in that same room on Christmas morning? Now, it was up to him to guess what his nephews and niece would like. And, soon, his daughter.

After Aurélien’s death, Robert had said, speaking of Fonteyne, “Preserve all this.” Jules had accepted the challenge, of course, but now Robert had kept himself away from Fonteyne. And Jules missed his favorite brother.

I wish you were here with us tonight, Bob.
…

He sighed but immediately reminded himself that he had a lot to be thankful for. Louis-Marie and Alex were at Fonteyne. Little Lucie-Malvoisie was sleeping like an angel in his bedroom. He’d done everything in his power to ensure a bright future for his family.

He uttered a couple of sentences as though he were speaking with someone, then opened the living room’s double doors and called the children in.

It was mild and rainy on December 26. Robert barely slowed down as he took the turn. Without meaning to, he’d beaten his own speed record for the road, driving nervously, even grinding the gears a couple of times—something he never did. He tried, in vain, to chase from his mind the dramatic image of the battered body.

Bordeaux was now only some thirty miles away, and he’d reach Fonteyne before dawn. Jules would then be in the fields, by himself. Robert had calculated the time of his departure to match Jules’s daily habits. He had to slow down a bit as the rain intensified.

He’d enjoyed an incredible Christmas. He’d given Pauline a watch he’d lovingly picked at a high-end jewelry store in Paris. They’d been happy having breakfast in the sun together, facing the snowy ski slopes. Everything had gone according to plan until his faithful secretary called. Before picking up, he knew that something bad had happened, as his secretary never would’ve disturbed him for nothing. He listened to her, horrified.

A business card with Robert’s number was found at the bottom of Frédérique’s handbag. He was designated as the person to call in case of an emergency. The police officer had called the hospital, and Robert was asked to come back as soon as possible to identify Frédérique’s body at the morgue, in that awful suburban hospital where it had been sent.

Pauline and Robert took the first plane back to Paris. He’d had no choice but to tell her everything: the baby, the job at the hospital, the apartment, the money. Pauline was furious when learning that this family secret had been kept from her, but Robert didn’t even try to calm her down.

He was thinking of the baby. That’s all he could think about, Frédérique’s baby, who was safe and sound. Fastened in his baby seat in the back of the car, he’d come out of the accident unscathed, and was now being kept under observation in the pediatric ward of the same hospital where his mother’s body waited.

Robert had been able to identify Frédérique, in spite of her mutilated body. Then he’d gone to the fifth floor to see Julien. He’d made use of his name and reputation to make sure that the baby was very carefully looked after and coddled. He’d stepped out of the hospital exhausted, but still had to go to the police station for a statement. There he learned about the pile-up on the beltway, the many victims. Seemingly, a truck driver was responsible for the disaster.

Robert had wound up in his car, in the middle of a suburb he’d never been to before, and he’d cried like a child, his forehead on the steering wheel. He and his brothers had done all they could to protect that child who shared their blood, who was one of them. Who was now an orphan. Unknown father, deceased mother, and his only other family member a drunken and delinquent uncle.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to start his car and head back to his apartment, where he’d have to deal with Pauline. The tragedy concerned the Laverzacs and nobody else. And so he’d have to talk to Jules. He stepped out of his car, paced the deserted streets, then ate an awful sandwich and drank three cups of coffee in some pub. It was only at closing time that he decided to hit the road to Margaux. He had to pull over twice on the highway to walk a little, drink some more coffee, try to get his head straight.

When he reached the small town of Cantenac, he forced himself to slow down.
By now Jules must already be in the fields,
he thought,
either on foot or riding his horse.
He rolled down his window in spite of the rain, to look at his surroundings, lit up by the morning’s first rays. He lucked out and spotted the silhouettes of Jules and Bingo at the top of a hill, and he tapped his horn.

They met up three hundred yards from Fonteyne’s main gates. In his headlights, Robert saw the nervous horse. He stopped, turned off the car’s engine, and watched his brother dismount Bingo.