A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (8 page)

Dominique was driving fast, fed up after spending the entire morning running errands. Providing supplies for Fonteyne was a chore that weighed on her, but she couldn’t escape it. Aurélien’s tastes forced her to come up with elaborate meals twice a day.

“Those Laverzacs don’t know how to eat simply,” she told Laurène, her eyes stuck to the road. “I swear, sometimes I wish I could just have a ham sandwich.”

“With a glass of beer,” Laurène said.

When they were together, they tended to act like school girls, railing against Aurélien’s tyranny and their labor at Fonteyne. But the fact of the matter was they wouldn’t have traded places with anyone, knowing they were part of a very enviable world.

“Until the harvest is over, Aurélien is going to be impossible,” Dominique continued. “I don’t know how Jules puts up with him.”

From the corner of her eye, she checked her sister’s reaction.

“Jules …” Laurène said, broodingly. “He’s not always a piece of cake either. Those two go well together.”

“Hmm,” Dominique said. “You’re not defending him anymore?”

Dominique was smiling, waiting for a response, but Laurène remained silent. What could she have said? She was so confused about things. For the past two years, she’d looked at Jules with such trepidation and desire, wanting so much for him to pay attention to her that she was now accustomed—almost resigned—to the sort of indifference he showed her. In her mind, she’d come up with all kinds of schemes to make him come out of his shell but never actually did anything about it. She’d waited, paralyzed with shyness, not daring to make a move or allude to anything. Yet she could tell that he was attracted to her—from little hints. Alas, he remained deliberately distant, abiding by Aurélien’s silent reprobation. For a few months, Laurène had accepted the situation, amused by Aurélien’s protective attitude toward her, and by Jules’s eloquent silence. Then she realized that their relationships, such as they were, could never be altered.

Understanding that her sister wasn’t ready to talk, Dominique changed the subject.

“Aurélien took me aside this morning,” she said. “He wants to celebrate Jules’s birthday in grand style. Thirty—that’s some milestone! I’m supposed to come up with an exceptional meal, and Alex has to go through the cellar to find the very best bottles we have. Can you imagine?”

Laurène started to laugh, recognizing Aurélien’s unpredictable character through these demands.

“Nothing’s too good for Jules, as usual. And when is this gala evening supposed to take place?”

“Tomorrow. Jules doesn’t know about it.”

Dominique hesitated before adding, “Aurélien invited Mom and Dad. And he thought that Granny could maybe come, this one time. He also called Maurice Caze. Remember him?”

“He lived near Saint-Julien, right?”

“Exactly. He’s Jules’s godfather. But that’s not why Aurélien invited him. Maurice Caze is also the father of a very pretty young woman. … Aurélien thinks of everything.”

Annoyed, Laurène shrugged.

“She’s pretty,” she said, “but dumb as a doorknob. I can’t believe that Aurélien is thinking of Camille as a potential daughter-in-law.”

“If you ask me,” Dominique said, “he’s mostly thinking about Caze’s vines.”

She was chuckling, but her sister wasn’t. Once again Laurène was feeling uncomfortable. Since Robert’s arrival at Fonteyne, she’d discovered with delight that she could be interested in someone other than Jules. She’d only had a vague memory of Robert and was very surprised when she saw him the morning he returned. This sudden attraction had the charm of novelty and delivered Laurène from her past obsessions. She’d suddenly decided that it was no use being twenty and pretty if all you did was cling to pipe dreams. For the past three days, she was finally seeing a solution to all her problems. She could feel instinctively that Aurélien wasn’t at all protective of Robert. And this might just be a way to get back at Jules’s indifference.

“Your head is in the clouds a lot these days,” Dominique told her as she took the driveway leading to Fonteyne.

“Clouds …” Laurène said with her eyes set on the sky. “There are plenty of those.”

Robert was fiddling with his stethoscope, his eyes riveted on his father. He’d carefully read the medical file Aurélien had reluctantly handed him. They’d gone to the library so as not to be disturbed. It was Aurélien’s favorite room, the refuge where he forgot all about his worries. Even with the mahogany paneling, the room was bright, rays of sun pouring through the four large windows. Robert found there the atmosphere he’d adored as a teenager. He’d studied in this room, in a silence and light he still remembered. By tacit agreement, no one entered the library when Aurélien was there. But Robert and his brothers always had, even as kids, access to the books without any restrictions. Their father would tell them to read whatever they wanted, as long as they read. And they spent entire Sundays sliding the ladder along the shelves, in search of books they might enjoy.

Robert began to pace and smiled at the sound of his steps on the polished hardwood floor, one of the many details that had brought him back in time and moved him since his return to Fonteyne.

“There’s nothing too worrisome,” he said, “but I’d like you to consult a cardiologist.”

“What?” Aurélien hissed. “You’re not sure of your own diagnosis?”

“I’m a surgeon, you know? I’d like the opinion of a cardiologist. But you shouldn’t worry too much. …”

“But I’m not worried! Jules is the one who went and got you, not me. And I know you, you’re going to tell me to make an appointment with Dr. Whoever, some great specialist—in Paris, it goes without saying. I’m not going to Paris. Ever! The doc I saw here seemed very competent, and his opinion is good enough for me. Now, if you think it’s bad or urgent, we’ll talk about it and figure something out.”

Robert sat by his father, brows furrowed.

“I’m a poor judge in this case because you’re my father. Doctors usually don’t treat members of their own family. I think you’ll be treated just as well in Bordeaux as you would in Paris. I’m just asking you to monitor yourself regularly. As for the rest, you’re free—”

“Thank goodness for that! I’ve heard it all this morning!”

Robert produced a smile. Aurélien’s vitality fascinated him. He remained the same year after year, exasperating his sons and commanding their respect.

“I am very worried, actually, but it’s about the weather! You’ve forgotten how the harvest is …”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Robert said, laughing.

Aurélien pointed at the stethoscope hanging around his son’s neck.

“Put that thing away,” he said. “It makes me feel like I’m talking to a stranger. … Oh, the girls are back! We’ll finally get some lunch around here!”

Robert watched Dominique and Laurène walking by the office across the terrace, followed by Fernande. All were carrying heavy bags. Laurène gave both men a smile, and then she made a face.

“She hates going to the market,” Aurélien explained with a kind of tenderness that struck Robert as odd.

“You’re awfully indulgent with that kid, aren’t you?” he said.

Aurélien turned sharply to Robert and glared at him. He hesitated, about to vent his anger, but Robert’s face displayed only simple curiosity. Aurélien let out a heavy sigh.

“Yes. …” he finally said. “I like her a lot. If I were honest, I’d say that I’m attracted to her. What can I say? She’s around me all day, working with me. I’m not made of stone.”

“But you …”

“Don’t add insult to injury by saying something inane, okay?”

Robert lowered his eyes, and Aurélien felt like laughing.

“I’ll be glad the day she finds a husband and leaves Fonteyne. Furious, but glad.”

Robert, amused by his father’s disconcerting honesty, took the risk of saying, “Jules would be a good candidate … as a possible husband I mean. …”

“Jules?”

Aurélien, on the defensive, thought a moment before speaking.

“I’m not inside his head. He does whatever he wants. I only told him, when Laurène first arrived here, not to hit on her just for the fun of it. She was eighteen, it’s a bit young. I had a responsibility as Antoine’s friend …”

The excuse was so obvious that Robert couldn’t help himself and he started to laugh hysterically. Offended, Aurélien turned his back on his son to let him calm down. When he was able to speak again, Robert said, “One thing I forgot to ask you, as a physician. It’s your … your private life.”

There was no trace of amusement in his voice. Aurélien knew that he could trust him.

“I’m no monk, but I’m not Don Juan either. … I have my … habits in Bordeaux. Nothing too exciting. And then, once in a while … Let me put it this way: I have more affairs than you imagine, but less than you fear. I’ve always loved women, you know. …”

“I know,” Robert said with a neutral voice.

“And to answer your question, medically speaking, I have no particular problems. Not yet!”

Robert observed his father, both attentive and moved. For the first time in his adult life, he had tender feelings for him.

“The worst, Robert, isn’t getting old. … Age doesn’t count. What’s awful is not having much time ahead of you. Nowadays, it’s not so much women I long for, but love. I’d like to be in love, there I said it. … But if it does happen to me, then you’re all going to say it’s some sort of midlife crisis. If she’s my own age, you’re going to say it’s gross, and if she’s young, it’s going to be a scandal! Dirty old man! Of course, knowing you all, you’re going to say it all behind my back. …”

Robert was listening, forcing himself to remain stone-faced. Aurélien glanced at the now deserted terrace.

“That young Laurène stirred things inside me. … I can’t have her, I know, but it created a real need inside me. There’s an emptiness there. …”

Aurélien’s tone changed all of a sudden.

“If I were your age,” he said, “I’d be thrilled by the way she’s looking at you. … Anyway, I’m the one doing all the talking. Why don’t you tell me why you’re not married?”

Embarrassed, Robert mumbled an incomprehensible answer.

Benevolent, Aurélien smiled at him.

“I’m not asking you to confide in me. My curiosity, unlike yours, isn’t based on science.”

Aurélien was having fun with his son. He also wanted to lighten things up a bit. He wasn’t used to bearing his soul like he just had, and he’d never tried to be emotionally close to his sons. The fact that he’d undressed and let Robert examine him had momentarily changed their rapport. Robert felt that the grace period had passed. He got up.

“Why don’t you go see if we’re going to have lunch soon?” Aurélien asked. “I’ll be right over.”

Now alone, he went back to sit on the chesterfield and put on his tie. He was conscious of what he’d done and felt bad about it.

What the hell is wrong with me
? he thought.
Steering Robert toward Laurène. If I can’t have her, I don’t want
him
to have her either. …

For a long time, he’d known that Jules was in love with Laurène. Even though he didn’t let it show.

I made sure he understood I was against this relationship, and he didn’t go against my wishes, God only knows why. Because he’s afraid to be in love? To think that’s what I want more than anything. Life can be such a mess at times. … But then again, if those two were to marry, I’d have to put up with seeing them together all the time, and that …

Aurélien got off the chesterfield and looked around him. Not even his books managed to console him now. He loved Jules too much to put himself in a position to envy him. In the past, they’d been rivals when it came to women, but it was just a game. If he’d deliberately forgotten about the others, he still remembered that pretty thing that had opted to spend the night with him instead of his son, filling him with enormous pride and satisfaction.

But it had nothing to do with feelings. It was just a challenge, a friendly battle. For laughs. …

Winning, in this uncontrollable need they both had to compete against each other, was everything.

He’s so much like me. And I like that he is. …

Pauline’s high-pitched voice took him out of his thoughts. He glanced once more at his dear books and then briskly walked out of the library.

Since it was late, lunch was eaten in a bit of a rush, and Aurélien, crabby, had gone to take his nap. Jules settled in his father’s office to wait for Alexandre, who still wasn’t back from Bordeaux. He never sat in his father’s chair but instead perched on the sofa’s arm to study that day’s dossiers. Every day, he read a considerable amount of information about wine producing, always interested in anything that had to do with his trade. He retained everything with disconcerting ease, and rarely glanced at a detail without examining it fully. At any time and on any topic having to do with wine, he could replace Aurélien at conferences or meetings with other producers. On the other hand, Alexandre attended very few professional gatherings, and the sudden decision to thrust him into a negotiation with Amel must have embarrassed him. Jules only hoped that his talks in Bordeaux hadn’t taken a disastrous turn.

He got up, stretched, took a quick look at the still gray sky, then decided to make his way to Laurène’s office. He’d been hearing her type for a few minutes.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked, flatly.

She swiveled her chair around and gave him a smile.

“On the contrary,” she said. “I need someone to explain to me how to get out of this darn program. I don’t get it.”

He walked over to her desk and she let him take her seat. Two seconds later, the problem was solved.

“See?” he said. “That’s how you do it. …”

Half-turned toward Laurène, he looked at her and stopped speaking. He’d made his decision a few days earlier, and he figured this time was as good as any.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “Not about computers, I mean. …”

“Okay, if you give me a cigarette first.”

She didn’t expect anything serious, so she was relaxed. He gestured at the filing cabinets that filled the room.

“This isn’t a very romantic place. … Would you have dinner in Margaux with me tonight?”