Vintage (53 page)

“Despite everything, I’m here,” Christina said out loud.

“Yes,” said Madeleine. “Of course you are.”

Christina glared at her.

“Ladies,” Gerry called. “I need all three of you over here.”

He waved his arm in the direction of the set he’d commissioned for the photograph. An archway of vines.

“I wonder if you might consider putting these on. Just a bit of fun.”

A stylist appeared with three toga-like garments.

“Not that you need any help to look like goddesses,” he said.

“No,” said Christina curtly. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’d rather not,” said Madeleine.

“It’ll look a bit silly if I’m the only one,” said Kelly.

Gerry was crushed. But the women were not to be persuaded. Instead they arranged themselves in the faux bower in the clothes they had arrived in. Christina made sure that Kelly separated her from Madeleine. Kelly, finding herself in the middle of two such glamorous women, appeared in every frame looking slightly stunned.

Madeleine was a little perturbed by Christina Morgan’s odd behavior. She knew that they were competing against each other in the wine challenge but that didn’t explain the extent of her froideur, which had basically tipped over into rudeness. Refusing to shake Madeleine’s hand. Refusing to stand next to her in the photographs. Even making snippy comments about Madeleine’s dress. Christina had been a complete bitch. Thank God Madeleine wouldn’t have to see her again until the final night of the festival.

Madeleine retired to her room. The telephone on the bedside table was illuminated to say she had a message. She was expecting something from Mackesy. He had promised to call when he got into San Francisco so that they could catch up over drinks before the opening night dinner. Madeleine did not expect to hear Axel’s voice.

“I have to see you as soon as possible,” he said.

Madeleine pressed “delete.”

The next couple of days were very busy. Madeleine had made arrangements to meet several American wine importers to discuss the possibility of sending part of her first Clos Des Larmes vintage to the States. Mackesy made personal introductions for her in many cases. He, meanwhile,
spent much of the weekend in Napa, visiting producers who wanted a distributor in the UK.

At the Gloria Hotel, Guy and Kelly joined the
Vinifera
readers at several grand tastings. They were determined to have fun. There was nothing they could do to change the outcome of the competition now. They might as well enjoy the two days they had to wait for the results.

Hilarian didn’t have much time to play. He was on the panel for several blind tastings that weekend. Prizes were to be awarded in every conceivable category of wine: from sherry to Shiraz. Hilarian lent his expertise to the judging of dessert wines in particular. He was after all the Noble Rotter.

Ronald and Odile were similarly occupied. Though Odile had spent part of Saturday in Napa, as a guest of Domaine Randon, she certainly wasn’t welcome at the Villa Bacchante.

After the photo shoot and opening dinner, Christina decided it would be best to bow out of the festival until the grand awards ceremony on the closing night. Greg dropped in over the weekend, but it wasn’t, as Christina hoped, to tell her that he’d changed his mind. Instead he came with a rented van to take those possessions of his that had been at the villa back to Los Angeles.

Christina attempted to persuade him to stay.

“We need to talk about this,” she said.

“I can’t,” he told her. “Not now. All I keep thinking is that when you accepted my marriage proposal, you did it having slept with someone else just a week before.”

And then he left.

Christina threw herself down onto the bed they once shared. She understood now that Marisa had been right about her marriage to Bill. That marriage clearly hadn’t been for real. She knew because as she lay on the bed now she could hardly breathe. It was as though one by one her
ribs were turning to stone, creating a tomb for a heart that would soon be dead. Her heart was properly broken. That was how she knew she really loved Greg.

T
he last day of the
Vinifera
Wine Festival arrived. A hundred readers crammed into one of the Gloria Hotel’s smaller conference rooms to watch the judging of the extraordinary sparkling wine competition that had been dubbed (annoyingly) the Gloria Cup in honor of a deal Gerry Paine had struck with the hotel chain earlier that month.

The contestants and their sponsors sat in the front row and watched closely as a white-jacketed waiter opened the first bottle and poured out three glasses for the judges, who were seated at a table onstage. The table was covered with a pure white cloth and held nothing but the tasting glasses, some water and a plate of plain white bread.

“Do you think that’s ours?” Kelly asked Hilarian. In the glass, the variation in color between the three wines was almost indiscernible. Kelly listened hard as the judges described the bouquet and taste of each wine, but the wines shared many notes in common. It was impossible to tell which wine was which.

While the
Vinifera
readers enjoyed the judges’ banter, Madeleine sat on her hands so that she wouldn’t worry her cuticles as she listened. Beside her, Odile Levert made notes of her own for an article Gerry wanted describing
the atmosphere of the competition. From time to time Odile glanced at Christina Morgan, who had not looked at her at all since they filed into the room.

Christina kept her eyes on the judging panel. Her recent court appearance had given her plenty of practice in ignoring the people around her and she was determined not to acknowledge Odile Levert yet. The moment would come.

The judges indicated to Gerry Paine that they had come to their conclusion.

“Thank you. Well, that’s it for now, ladies and gentlemen. You’ll find out their verdict tonight when we present the grand prize to the first ever winner of
Vinifera
magazine’s Gloria cup.”

Hilarian squeezed Kelly’s hand reassuringly.

“It’s us,” said Odile to Madeleine.

“We’ve got it,” said Ronald to Christina.

Christina got to her feet. “I hope so.”

“Can you give me a hand?” asked Ronald. Christina asked the chap to her left whether he wouldn’t mind helping Ronald up. She was starting to wonder whether Ronald was just using this hip thing as an excuse to grab hold of her.

The Froggy Bottom crew hung back as the other spectators filed out of the room.

“How do you think that went?” Kelly asked anxiously.

Guy was already sniffing at the half-empty glasses the judges had left behind.

“I still can’t tell which is which,” he said. “Damn, I was convinced that we were wine number one. Now I’m not so sure.”

“We were number two,” said Hilarian.

“No,” said Kelly, picking up glass number three. “It’s this one.”

“This really isn’t getting us anywhere, is it?” Hilarian sighed. “Come on, kids. Time to get ready for dinner.”

Alone in her room, Kelly laid her two favorite party dresses on the bed with the intention of deciding between them while she was in the shower. But moments later, she found herself looking out of the window at San Francisco. There had been no fog that day. She could see as far as the Golden Gate. And while she was looking at the view, Kelly remembered a book her mother had read to her as a child. One of the pictures was of this exact vista.

Kelly pulled her mobile out of her bag. Using the phone’s camera she took a picture of the view from her window and sent it as a text message to her mum.

T
he dress that Madeleine Arsenault wore for that evening’s
Vinifera
award ceremony was a gift from Odile Levert. Genuine vintage Dior from his New Look collection. Madeleine balked at the tiny waist of the full-skirted black taffeta ballgown but Odile was adamant that it would fit her and she was right.

“I’ll try to get it back to you in perfect condition,” said Madeleine.

“It’s a gift,” said Odile. “I think of you as a little sister. I want you to have something to remember me by.”

“Remember you by.” Madeleine shivered. “That sounds
final. Though perhaps you will never speak to me again if we don’t win tonight.”

Odile kissed Madeleine on the forehead.

“I should get ready myself,” she said.

Madeleine met Mackesy in the hotel bar for a couple of drinks before dinner.

“You look simply stunning,” he said.

To complement Odile’s gift of a dress, Madeleine had kept the rest of her ensemble understated. She had piled her hair on top of her head. She wore no jewelry except for a pair of small diamond studs that had been a gift from her mother. The lack of a necklace only served to emphasize the elegance of her long neck and delicate shoulders.

Madeleine walked into the ballroom on Mackesy’s arm, fantasizing for just a moment that they could walk out of the dinner and back to one room together too. He looked quite unbearably handsome in his black tie.

The atmosphere in the ballroom was full of excitement. It had been decorated to look like the set of a painting by Caravaggio. Each of the round tables was set with an enormous still life of fruit and flowers (lots of grapes, of course) that had been sprayed with gold paint to reflect the fact that
Vinifera
would be awarding its “golden grape” awards that night.

The volume of chatter as old friends and enemies greeted one another drowned out the carefully chosen classical music. Mackesy soon saw a couple of Napa Valley producers he wanted to pay his respects to. Madeleine reluctantly let go of his arm and spent a moment talking to Kelly and Guy from Froggy Bottom. Unlike Christina, Kelly seemed happy to fraternize with her fellow competitor.

“That’s an amazing dress,” Kelly commented.

“You look very lovely yourself,” Madeleine replied. “Both of you.”

Guy pulled at the collar of his rented shirt. Kelly was dressed in green. Her lucky color, she explained to Madeleine.

“It really emphasizes her eyes,” said Guy.

Madeleine felt warmed by the obvious affection Guy had for his colleague and Kelly’s resulting blush.

But it was as though the temperature dropped when the Domaine Randon crowd walked in. Madeleine found herself turning to look for Axel as if he’d sent her some telepathic call. Her eyes lit on Randon paused in the doorway. Axel stood to his right. They made such a dramatic picture, two tall elegant men in tuxedos, that the entire room was a little quieter for a moment.

“Wow, he’s good-looking,” said Kelly, nudging Madeleine. “The one with the black hair. Do you know who he is?”

“Oh yes,” Madeleine nodded curtly. The pose in the doorway convinced her that Axel’s transformation into Randon’s heir was all but complete. “Actually, I need to have a word with him,” she said. “Will you excuse me?”

There was no point waiting. Madeleine walked right up to the Domaine Randon party. Axel’s expression was surprised. Mathieu Randon, however, greeted Madeleine with a wide grin. Like they were the best of friends. He opened his arms. “Madeleine Arsenault, how lovely to see you here. Representing your little champagne house for the very last time.”

“Monsieur Randon,” said Madeleine. “You’re a bit premature. I think I have a few good years in me yet.”

“If you’d like to stay on at Champagne Arsenault after it changes hands, then I’m sure we can consider the possibility. But I should tell you I employ only the best for Domaine Randon. I’ll have to ask Monsieur Delaflote
here to give me his opinion on your talents as a wine-maker.”

“Well, as you know,” said Madeleine, “Monsieur Delaflote is of the opinion that I am no vigneronne.”

She met Axel’s gaze directly. He gave the slightest shake of his head.

“But that’s beside the point,” Madeleine continued. “I do believe you and I have some business to conclude, Monsieur Randon.”

“Ah yes. I can take the money you owe me from the price I’ll give you for your burned-out champagne house, if you like.”

“Actually,” said Madeleine, “I was going to ask you whether you would prefer cash or check?”