A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  Resigned, Jules shrugged.

  “Everybody’s sick and tired of it,” he said.

  He left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. In the hallway, he came across Laurène.

  “You’re on your way to see Aurélien?” Jules asked with a smile. “Let me warn you, he’s in a foul mood.”

  “Well so am I,” the young woman barked.

  She was still seething at the thought of Jules inviting Camille to the restaurant the previous evening. Going straight to Aurélien’s office, she made sure he didn’t need her right away, and then headed for her sister’s house. Dominique was surprised to see her in the kitchen this early in the day but offered no comment. Together they made breakfast for the children.

  Laurène finally opened her mouth to say, “I see that since the Parisians are here, you’re stuck with Esther on top of your own kids?”

  Dominique shrugged.

  “It’s no big deal. … The boys are so happy to have their cousin around, it’d be a shame to keep them apart.”

  “Do you think that Pauline is a good mother?”

  “Between you and I? No.”

  They both laughed, though without malice.

  “That was some dinner last night,” Dominique said. “Aurélien really goes all out when it comes to Jules.”

  She was very pretty in her white robe, and for a moment Laurène envied her sister’s apparent serenity.

  Out of the blue, she asked, “What do you think of Robert?”

  Dominique gave her an inquisitive glance before saying, “Bob? He’s nice … but he always looks like he’s thinking of something else.”

  “Do you find him attractive?”

  “No! I mean, he’s handsome and he’s got those eyes. … And he does have a lot going for him—the swanky car, the big-time job, and that tender side of his personality. But after five minutes, I don’t know what to say to him. I guess I find him a bit superficial. Like he only cares about his ambitions. Why? You’re interested in him?”

  She was warming milk, her back turned to Laurène. She added, “You’re wasting your time going after Bob. You should look elsewhere.”

  Laurène slammed a bowl down on the kitchen table.

  “You mean Jules? I can’t believe you!”

  “Listen …”

  “No, you listen to me. I put Jules on a pedestal, and I was crazy about him, it’s true. And everybody was giving me dirty looks. You just as much as the others! Aurélien seemed outraged every time he found us alone in the same room, and Jules was pretty much ignoring me anyway. All he cares about is Fonteyne! Work and nothing else.”

  “Not always. …” Dominique said.

  “You’re right. Did you see him last night with Camille? He can be so charming, that Jules. But deep down, he doesn’t care about women, except to boink one once in a while. I know him. If you only knew what I’ve heard about him, here and there. It’s like he’s slept with every single woman in the region. He’s nothing but a womanizer and he’s all about me, myself, and I. …”

  Dominique had let Laurène raise her voice. She sat at the table and began buttering the toast.

  “I think that more than anything else,” she said after a while, “he’s shy. As for carousing, Robert is much worse than he is. With him, if he cares about you, it’s going to be for no more than five minutes. Tops. But go ahead, try your luck. He’s here and he’s a free man, so give it your best shot! Have fun!”

  Stunned, Laurène stared at her sister.

  “You’re telling me that …”

  “Yes! I don’t want you to remain a good little girl under Aurélien’s thumb forever. It’s time for you to have a life. You’re not a kid anymore.”

  With a bitter smile on her face, Laurène shook her head.

  “Those are just words, Dominique. … What do you want me to do?”

  “For crying out loud! When I wanted Alex, I knew what to do. Nothing scared me. Not Aurélien, not Fonteyne, not the brothers. It’s up to you to decide.”

  Laurène got up. She seemed on the verge of tears.

  “Have a cup of coffee,” Dominique told her.

  “No, I have work to do,” Laurène muttered. “I’ve got to go.”

  She kissed her sister and left the house. She walked up the driveway, lost in her thoughts. An unexpected sun was shining on the vines. She stopped to look around her, relieved at the sight of such a radiant morning. She gazed at the perfectly blue sky and wondered how long the clearing would last. The sound of the Mercedes made her turn around. Jules went by her, slowing down and avoiding the puddles so as not to splash her. He didn’t wave at her, and he wore sunglasses so she couldn’t read his expression.

  Louis-Marie and Alexandre, involuntarily, were whispering instead of speaking naturally. They’d gone down to the lowest part of the cellar, on the third level, where Aurélien kept his rarest and most precious bottles. As though they’d gone back in time twenty years, both were as giddy as high school kids with the feeling of having entered some forbidden territory. The number one prize of the collection, a magnum of Margaux dating back to 1875, was still in its spot. Louis-Marie was reconnecting with the odors of his youth, and Alexandre’s words were soothing to him.

  “The eighty-four Rauzan-Gassies 1955, the Palmers 1961, Malescot, Saint-Exupéry, Labegorce, Kirwan … As you can see, nothing has been touched. I don’t think they’ll ever be opened.”

  “And there are the Lascombes,” Louis-Marie said. “But wait, some bottles are missing over there.”

  “Yes, the 1969 Boyd-Cantenac,” Alexandre said. “We had them at Christmas last year. It was actually a bit disappointing.”

  He pointed at an empty rack and said, “The fabulous Larruau we drank last night. Your wife didn’t have any. That’s too bad.”

  “She’d had enough wine already, believe me!”

  They both laughed and continued their exploration. They didn’t really have to read the labels to know what was where. Besides, the labels were covered with dust. Louis-Marie was a bit surprised to realize how well he remembered the place.

  “Which one should we open?” he asked his brother. “A Durfort-Vivens 1975?”

  Alexandre gave him an incredulous look.

  “What? The two of us? Right now?”

  “Yes! I’ll plead insanity if we get caught! Come on, let’s do it.”

  Alexandre hesitated but then took out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket. He pulled out the corkscrew, looked at Louis-Marie, and said, “Let’s do it.”

  They fetched the glass they’d spotted in another part of the cellar and rinsed it. Alexandre cautiously opened the precious bottle, and the two brothers sat on the ground and spent a long while drinking, saying very little.

  Louis-Marie finally broke their eloquent silence by muttering, “My God, this is amazing. …”

  He filled the glass once again and asked, “Alex, are you happy here?”

  “Of course,” his brother answered. “Thanks to Dominique and my sons.”

  Louis-Marie thought about those words and then asked, “What about Jules? He’s giving you a hard time, isn’t he?”

  “No.”

  Alexandre’s smile was sincere, unequivocal.

  “He’s so good at it! And he does so much for the estate. …”

  “It’s also his estate,” Louis-Marie pointed out. “Tell me, Alex …”

  He hesitated, not certain what words to use. Alexandre waited patiently.

  “I’ve often wondered … How can I say it? I have the impression that Jules and Dad are … They’re up to something together. …”

  Alexandre had a sip of wine, saying nothing, staring off into the distance.

  Louis-Marie insisted, “Their relationship is too intense! They’re always eyeing each other, testing each other. Like they’re always competing. …”

  “They have to run things together and they butt heads. But Dad knows full well that without Jules, Fonteyne—”

  “Come on!” />
  “No,” Alexandre said, slowly. “It’s true. He’s not just the good son, good student you think he is. Everything done around here that’s new and progressive is because of Jules. He has this business in his blood. He always knows everything before everybody else. No matter what happens, he knows how to make the best of it. He’s almost never wrong. Of course, he can get on people’s nerves, but you can’t hold it against him, you can’t hate him, because he’s such a nice guy. You know that sometimes he’d bottle-feed my boys on the days Dominique was out running errands? As obsessed as he is with the vineyards, he’ll do anything to help others. Just ask Fernande.”

  Louis-Marie didn’t look convinced, and Alexandre added, “Jules has Dad’s faults. He identified with him so much he became his clone. And then, at one point, he surpassed him.”

  Alexandre held out the glass so his brother could fill it again.

  “So,” Louis-Marie said, “it’s a wonderful life around here.”

  “Yes and no. Dominique is on my back to get us to leave for Mazion. Imagine the scandal that would cause?”

  “I don’t know about that. Between Dad, Jules, and Lucas, things are running smoothly at Fonteyne. If there’s already enough help here and you’re needed at Antoine’s …”

  Alexandre shrugged. He knew Louis-Marie couldn’t understand the full scope of the situation. And he didn’t feel at all like admitting that taking charge of an estate scared him.

  “I love Fonteyne as much as they do. …” he said with a muffled voice.

  Louis-Marie asked him the last question on his mind, “And the day something happens to Dad … ?”

  Alexandre got to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants with his hand.

  “I don’t know. … He must’ve planned for it.”

  “Planned what, Alex?”

  Alexandre said nothing and Louis-Marie also got up. They headed for the spiral staircase. Reaching ground level, they saw it was raining again.

  Disheartened, they watched the sheets of rain for a while. Most of the day had been superb, and the suddenness of the storm was startling. They left the cellar and ran to the house. By the time they got there, they were soaking wet. Alexandre immediately looked for his father. Louis-Marie found Pauline in the main living room, where Jules, kneeling before the hearth, was starting a fire. Having arrived from Margaux five minutes earlier, he was also drenched.

  He welcomed his brother with a smile and said, “So, you and Alex emptied out the cellar?”

  “News travels fast around here!” Louis-Marie shot back.

  “Contrary to what you might think, the caves aren’t open to everyone,” Jules explained. “There’s pretty much always an employee keeping an eye on the entrance. Fortunately.”

  Louis-Marie wrapped his arm around Pauline’s shoulders and ushered her toward the fireplace.

  “What rotten weather,” he said. “We’re all going to catch our death going from hot to cold like that. Where’s Robert?”

  Jules got back up while examining his fire. With apparent indifference, he said, “I ran into him in Margaux, with Laurène. They had lunch at the Relais.”

  Pauline frowned, a bit annoyed that Robert would be interested in a woman other than her. Louis-Marie refrained from making any remarks. As it was dark in the room, he lit the lamp closest to him and went over to sit on a sofa.

  “I drank too much with Alex,” he said with a sigh.

  Pauline got some coffee, while Louis-Marie challenged Jules to a game of chess. He knew that his brother was an excellent player, but he couldn’t convince him to sit down and play. Jules repeated that he wasn’t on vacation, drank his cup of coffee standing up, and said he was going to change.

  Once in his room, he took off his wet clothes. He’d put on a good face for Louis-Marie’s sake, but his unexpected encounter with Laurène and Robert, two hours before, had put him in a foul mood. He put on a pair of jeans, his boots, and a turtleneck, then a leather jacket. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and put it in his pocket. He knew very well that he never should’ve given his brother the go-ahead. There was nothing surprising about Robert trying to forget about Pauline by dating a young, beautiful woman like Laurène. Robert had asked if it was okay; he’d been a straight shooter.

  Exasperated, Jules slammed his bedroom door and ran down the stairs. The rain was falling as hard as it had been earlier. He went over to the office to ask Fernande if she’d seen Aurélien. She told him that he’d come back half an hour earlier, wet from head to toe, as he’d been caught by the rain in the middle of a field. Jules waited until Fernande prepared a rum toddy, then he went down to his father’s room. He found him sitting on the side of his bed, in his robe, lighting a small cigar.

  “What got you upset enough to smoke?” Jules asked as he put the rum toddy on the nightstand.

  “The rain. … I really thought the weather was changing. …”

  He held out his cigar to Jules.

  “You want it? I don’t like the taste after all. … So, how did it go with Amel?”

  “Everything’s taken care of,” Jules said, laconically. Taking a puff of the cigar, he added, “This Davidoff is great.”

  Aurélien smiled, in spite of himself. His tour of the vines had reassured him somewhat—the grapes weren’t looking as bad as he’d feared.

  “You were right about the vines,” he said. “If harvest is delayed a bit, we might be all right.”

  He drank his grog and put down the mug ever so slowly.

  Jules broke into his characteristic laugh.

  “Aurélien,” he said, “you want me to feel sorry for you? Poor Aurélien, things aren’t going as well as he’d hoped. …”

  “You must think I’ve gone senile,” Aurélien said. “Gone cuckoo. Maybe you should plan to eliminate me.”

  “I actually put some arsenic in your grog,” Jules said, still laughing.

  Aurélien took off his robe and put on a cashmere vest over his shirt.

  “You what?” he said. “I feel better. You’re going to have to poison me some other time. Though, as a matter of fact, you do poison my life a little bit every day! Hand me a tie, will you? Any will do. … Well, no, not that one. Geez …”

  Jules handed him three ties, and Aurélien snagged the one in the middle.

  “If you think about it,” Aurélien said, “these are great years for you. You have Fonteyne and no worries at all.”

  “No worries. …” Jules echoed, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

  Aurélien put a friendly hand on Jules’s shoulder and said, “The only way to get something out of you is to actually be stronger than you are. I don’t envy your future wife.”

  Jules, surprised, stared at this father.

  “I don’t—”

  “I know,” Aurélien interrupted. “You only understand what you want to understand.”

  He left the room whistling, very cheerful.

  There was another two hours of sun the following morning. While surveying the vineyards, Jules saw, as Aurélien had the day before, that the successive downpours hadn’t damaged the grapes. Fog was clinging to the vines in the damp dawn, and the soil remained muddy. Jules thought about the laborers and all the problems inherent to the harvest. He knew that, for all his talk, Aurélien counted on him. He felt deeply responsible for the estate and knew that this wasn’t the time for matters of the heart. And so he tried not to think about Laurène, though she kept creeping back into his mind, muddling his thoughts.

  He’d never had any trouble getting what he wanted from women. As a matter of fact, he usually got much more than he wanted. He conquered them effortlessly. He made love to them well because he loved it, and then promptly forgot about them. On the rare occasion that a woman tried to resist his charms, he gladly played the game and did everything he could to seduce her. But Laurène was a totally different matter. After carefully avoiding her for so long, Jules had finally admitted to himself that he loved her. In hindsight, he realized how ridicul
ous he’d been to think that all he had to do was tell Laurène and have her fall into his arms. He’d figured that she was attracted to him all along, and he’d been wrong. “You only understand what you want to understand,” Aurélien had told him the previous day—he was right.

  If any other woman had preferred Robert over him, Jules would have been indifferent, as it wasn’t a matter of pride for him. But in the case of Laurène, he was stunned by how possessive he felt. He’d easily put up with Aurélien’s hurdles, thinking it was only a question of time before they came down. A vague rivalry with Aurélien hadn’t bothered him, but the thought of having to fight with Robert made him angry.

  He shivered since he hadn’t moved in ten minutes. For a man who didn’t want to think about women, he was neck-deep in it. Slowly, he began to walk alongside some vines, forcing himself to examine them. He shrugged at the thought of his own stupidity.

  “So you went and fixed what I screwed up?” an angry Alexandre barked from behind him.

  Jules was rarely caught by surprise, and the fact that Alexandre snuck up on him like that showed how deep in thought he was. He turned to his brother and forced a smile.

  “So?” Alex insisted.

  “Yes, I did,” Jules said. “We couldn’t leave things like that. I went because Aurélien asked me to. But I’m not blaming him. The deal had to be changed anyway.”

  Alexandre, hesitant, stared at his brother.

  “How can you win with Amel?” he asked, both angry and baffled.

  “We’re the ones doing him a favor, Alex. He needs us. Our wines, they’re great. You should never feel like a debtor with guys like Amel. If you’re sure of yourself, you obtain what you want. I actually told him that I was going to do without him from now on.”

  “You’re not going to deal with him?”

  “I’m not going to deal with any distributor.”

  Alexandre seemed alarmed. His brother’s ideas always caught him off guard.

  “It’s the way of the future,” Jules said. “In the meantime, I’m having a problem with logistics for the laborers. You have to work out getting us the bus to transport them. …”

  They talked for a while, as equals, before heading for the Jeep Jules had left on the road. The wind was rising, and they spotted the first clouds. The rain began to fall as they reached the garage. Aurélien was waiting for them there, and he rushed over to Jules.