A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (18 page)

We’re just going to do it the way we always have.

He relied on his instincts just as much as what he saw each day in the fields. Aurélien asked him the same questions a hundred times and picked up the smallest of discrepancies in his answers. Each fall was the same shared hell, but this one had been particularly difficult to go through, thanks to the constant rain. As for the requests for increased quotas, Jules preferred not to think about it now.

He caught sight of the Mercedes behind him at the foot of the hill and waved to Aurélien and Alexandre before stepping on the gas.

“We all had the same idea, it looks like,” Aurélien said.

He watched the Jeep disappear over the crest of the hill.

“Anywhere we go,” Alex said, laughing, “we can be sure that Jules was there or that he’s going to be there in five minutes.”

Aurélien nodded, solemn.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s … reassuring. But because of it, I now live like some gentleman farmer, and I don’t go out in the fields nearly enough. That Jules is evil. … He describes things in the vineyards so well I can see them from my office.”

With no specific intention, Alexandre said, “You can trust him.”

“I trust both of you,” Aurélien said.

But Jules is the one who sulfated the vines at the precise time. He decided when to begin harvesting last year on exactly the right day. … If it were only you taking care of the vineyards, my poor Alex, I’d pitch a tent out there just to keep an eye on them myself. …

Aurélien gave his son a pat on the shoulder, sorry to be thinking this way. Then they saw the Jeep come down the hill and Jules stopped beside the Mercedes, leaving the engine on.

“We don’t see you enough around here,” he said to Aurélien. “I actually wanted to talk to you about those vines. The rain made a mess of the soil, so we’re going to have to fix that.”

“You have enough people?”

“It’s going to be fine.”

Aurélien, relieved, produced a smile.

When did I lose control of all this? he asked himself without bitterness.

He watched his two sons lighting their cigarettes together, and he felt happy being with them. He thought, with pride, that he’d done a good job raising them.

Aurélien’s unique personality and perspective on things, quite different from his contemporaries, had made him feel inclined to give his children an elaborate education. At least that’s the way he saw it back then. He wanted his sons to be able to run a business and to be respected. He worked very hard to ensure they would turn into the types of men he valued. He looked after their schooling from the very beginning, while paying for private lessons and making sure they went on trips. He did everything to prevent his sons from fighting too much with the estate’s employees. His strictness, at times over the top, had only one goal: to put his sons above the others. This attitude—which he didn’t regret—had ended up costing him Louis-Marie’s and Robert’s presences. But both had developed their own ambitions, and Aurélien was pleased about that. Their success was, to him, a result of his own efforts, and it fell under the category of things he’d hoped for. That was because he’d hoped they would turn out as strong as he was. And he had managed to make them so, at least in part. Jules and Robert were made of steel.

Those two don’t see eye to eye these days, but it’ll pass. It always does when it’s about women. … When they were kids, I would’ve beaten the daylights out of them just to keep them quiet, but today I’d like so much for them to talk to me. …

“We’re a bit late clearing the undergrowth,” Jules said.

Aurélien frowned and asked, “How late?”

“Just a little. Want me to take you back to the house?”

Aurélien smiled at Jules, touched by his son’s kindness.

“In that old clunker of yours?” he said. “Are you kidding me?”

Jules was going to pull away, but Aurélien rapped on the Jeep’s hood.

“Just one second,” he said. “I know you and Alex, and I don’t want any trouble with the laborers this year. No battles, no fighting, no nothing. Understood?”

“Us, fight?” Jules asked with an air of perfect innocence.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” Aurélien said.

Jules and Alexandre looked at each other, giddy. The approach of the harvest thrilled them, as always.

And for the past hour or so, Jules hadn’t thought about his heartbreak.

Laurène, exasperated, turned away from her computer screen. She couldn’t master the management program that Jules had written. She kept getting lost in the maze of folders, didn’t ask the right questions, and always feared doing something that would wipe out some essential data. Aurélien thought he was too old to mess with computers, and he had no interest in them. He figured that Laurène, being young, would take care of it all easily.

God, she thought, Jules is making things difficult for everybody!

But right away, she recognized how unfair she was being. Jules’s constant willingness to adopt new techniques, no matter what they were, was sometimes a headache for the others, but he didn’t do it out of meanness. Suddenly, Laurène blushed at the thought of the painful episode in the stable. She got up and left her small office, hoping to take her mind off things. Unfortunately, the first person she ran into was Robert. He led her to the terrace and, after making sure they were all alone, he put his hands on her shoulders, looking dead serious.

“I’m so sorry about what happened. …” he began.

He bit his lower lip, not knowing what else to say.

“I know,” Laurène said with a soft voice. “Me too.”

They looked at each other, almost amused, both convinced that they’d paid too high a price for what was simply a good time.

“How is he treating you?” Robert asked.

“He ignores me completely. I don’t exist anymore.”

“And … and that bothers you, right?”

“Of course!”

Robert wondered how he could ever justify how cavalier he’d been with this twenty-year-old woman.

“I’m truly sorry. Not for making love to you, but having been so … thoughtless. I shouldn’t have believed you when you said Jules didn’t care for you, but it was convenient for me. I knew full well that if he caught us, things would be awful.”

He looked so upset that Laurène didn’t doubt his sincerity.

“Listen,” she said, “I’m also to blame.”

He hesitated, not used to such honesty.

“You … You wanted to make him jealous?”

She produced a puzzling smile and decided to be as frank as possible, having nothing to lose.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t that. I just felt like it, that’s all.”

At a loss, he let go of Laurène’s shoulders. He felt like an idiot. He was fifteen years older than her, and she was the one being mature about things.

“Give him a bit of time,” he finally said. “He loves you.”

She shook her head, her face suddenly filled with sadness.

“Time? Time he’s going to use to marry Camille?”

Robert burst out laughing, delighted at being able to relax a bit.

“Jules is not going to marry someone as silly as Camille Caze!”

“Maybe, but he’s still completely furious with me.”

Robert regretted having put Laurène in such an intolerable position. And he knew there was nothing he could do to help her.

“I know Jules,” she muttered. “He’s never going to forgive me. He’s going to forgive you, because you’re his brother. But me …”

He felt like taking her in his arms and consoling her, but knew he couldn’t. He thought she was nice and pretty, and figured she was very vulnerable. There wasn’t anything she would be able to do to change Jules’s mindset. Unlike Pauline, she hadn’t mastered the art of convincing men to accept anything. Her naïveté was most certainly not the best weapon to make Jules forget about his humiliation and his fury.

She gave him a resigned smile before leaving the terrace. Robert watched her, feeling terrible, thinking he might wind up hating himself.

In the kitchen, Fernande was preparing lunch. Dominique had left her some instructions before heading out, as she always did, to buy groceries. Fernande couldn’t understand why Dominique and Laurène complained about Aurélien’s demands. It seemed normal to give extreme care to the preparation of two meals a day. Even when it came to the breakfast tray, Aurélien had certain requirements: the use of expensive dishes and perfectly polished silverware. Nothing had changed since Lucie’s death; Fernande had made sure of that.

Lucas came in behind her, loudly pulled out a bench, and sat down.

“I’m sick of it all,” he grumbled.

Surprised by this outburst, Fernande turned around and glared at her husband.

“Something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong!” he exploded. “The boss’s son is driving me nuts!”

“Jules?”

Fernande’s eyes were wide open, and Lucas imitated her.

“Yeah, Jules! It’s getting worse year after year. With the blessing of his father. They’re cut from the same cloth.” Lucas looked furious. He continued, “It’s been like this since the beginning of the summer. I can’t take it anymore! It’s one thing for him to yell at the other guys. If we didn’t put a tight rein on them. … But I’m not exactly a peon around here! I should have my say. Only, as soon as I open my mouth, he’s against me. Everywhere else, the cellar master is respected and people listen to what he’s got to say. But not here!”

Fernande, upset, listened to her husband before saying, “Don’t let him get to you like that. He must be having some problems. …”

She wanted to defend Jules, and Lucas became furious.

“Problems! With the amount of land they have and the kind of wine they produce? Are you kidding me? Maybe it’s not an easy business, but things are going just fine. They’re making tons of money!”

Fernande frowned, distressed by what she was hearing.

Lucas lowered his voice and continued, “That Jules. I’ve known him since he was a little kid, and I taught him a good deal of what he knows. And now he treats me like dirt. But I’m not going to let him get away with it. No way. If they want me to leave, all they have to do is say so. They can just put that moron Alex in my place!”

He seemed to be thinking while he spoke, and Fernande feared that he was making foolish resolutions.

“Go talk to Mr. Laverzac about it,” she suggested.

“Are you crazy? You think he’s going to be critical of his son? You don’t know them.”

Lucas got up and threw a hateful glance at his wife. He was incensed that she would take the bosses’ side against him. But he was all too aware of the affection that Fernande had for Jules to be surprised. He was without illusions—and allies. He went past her and stepped out of the kitchen.

At the end of the day, Jules asked his father for the car keys. Vaguely annoyed, Aurélien handed them to him without a comment, convinced that Jules was about to engage in a stupid affair with Camille. He thought that his son was as out of sorts as the weather this summer. He didn’t sleep well, having to force himself not to stay up to wait for Jules to return, but he kept his ears open. Around midnight, he heard the Mercedes slowly pulling up in the driveway, just outside his window. He remained in bed for a long time in the dark, thinking.

The following morning, while having breakfast in his office with Alexandre and Jules, he decided to come out and say what he’d decided.

“I thought of something,” he said, looking serious. “When we’re done with earthing-up, in November, I’d like for one of you to go on a trip for me. … I’m actually thinking about you, Jules, since Alexandre probably doesn’t feel like leaving Dominique and the kids. …”

His sons looked at him dumbstruck.

“It’s a special assignment,” Aurélien continued, stone-faced. “In London and Hampshire County. It’ll take you one month maybe. No more than two.”

Aurélien almost smiled at Jules’s expression but was able to control himself. His adopted son could smell a rat, but there was no way to escape.

“Since I’m not planning to expand the vineyards this year, we won’t have to clear any land, and I won’t be needing you until racking in February.

Alexandre listened to his father, becoming more and more stunned. He thought that the idea of a trip was outrageous. Jules, for his part, knew very well that Aurélien wanted him away from Fonteyne, and more specifically Laurène and Camille.

“Can you tell me why—”

“I’m very interested in English wines,” Aurélien interrupted. “And you know how I worry about exporting. We’ll talk about it in detail between now and then, but it won’t be a useless trip, believe me.”

This was followed by heavy silence. Jules fiddled with his lighter, looking at neither his brother nor his father.

“I’m too old to go myself now,” Aurélien said as he got to his feet.

He was expecting a response. Jules finally turned his eyes toward him and produced an enigmatic smile. If he’d been insulted by being treated like some turbulent kid being sent away to learn a lesson, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even seem upset. Aurélien decided to prod him.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

Jules shook his head and said, “That’s what I thought. …”

He got up from the armchair and gestured at Alexandre.

“Are you coming? We have to oversee the barreling process.”

Aurélien let them leave without adding anything. Once alone, he chuckled.

He hates the idea and loves it at the same time
, he thought.
In any case, it’s going to give him time to cool off. … But I am going to miss him. …

A ray of sunshine lit up a corner of his desk. Aurélien glanced outside at the clear sky.

Just a few more days …

He preferred to think about the upcoming harvest rather than the trip he was imposing on his son. He’d convinced himself the previous night that Jules would get into trouble if he didn’t leave Fonteyne for a while. Even if the way he’d gone about it had been a bit cavalier, the scheme was a decent one.

Aurélien waited the entire morning for Jules to come back and either argue against the trip or say he was okay with it, but his son remained strangely calm and distant. And when Aurélien cracked a joke about it during cocktail hour, Jules didn’t react. He seemed to be accepting the trip without putting up any kind of fight, which was a bad sign. He even announced, out of the blue, that he was going to miss dinner again that night. Aurélien, taken aback, didn’t know what to think of Jules’s unusually shifty attitude. His son had always preferred arguments and sometimes outbursts over compromise. Aurélien told himself he was going to have to keep an even closer eye on him.