“We’re almost there,” Jules finally said. “Let’s go, Bob. One more shot!”
They continued sawing for a minute or two, and then Jules gestured at his brother to stop.
“If Aurélien knew that we’re doing this without using a rope …”
Robert rubbed his aching hands together.
“If you ask me,” he said, “I don’t think he’d care a whole lot today. Don’t you think?”
Jules smiled and said, “You’re right. She won’t kill him in bed, you know.”
“I’m not so sure,” Robert said.
“Well, in the meantime, get out of the way or that tree is going to fall on your head.”
Jules pushed against the trunk, and the tree toppled in a great whistling of branches exactly where Jules wanted it.
“It’s much too big,” Louis-Marie said. “We’re never going to be able to take it home.”
“Of course we will. We’re going to use the Jeep’s hoist.”
They did manage to get the tree all the way to the foot of the castle. Alex came to help them set it up in the main living room. Then they left it for Dominique to decorate, as the children were jumping up and down with joy. Jules headed for Aurélien’s office, but at the last moment decided to go to Frédérique’s instead. The small room, which had been Laurène’s, was still filled with cabinets and computers. Pensively, Jules looked around and wondered how Frédérique behaved when she was alone with Aurélien. Then he sat in front of one the computers, turned it on, and opened the management program. Frédérique obviously liked computers, as all the folders were updated and she’d modified some of the settings to make access to data easier.
Jules sighed and turned the computer off.
“You daydreaming?”
Aurélien, quietly entering the room, had put a hand on Jules’s shoulder. “I have a favor to ask,” he said.
Jules turned to his father and smiled, waiting for the rest.
“It’s going to be nighttime in two hours and Pauline is right, the roads are dangerous. …Would you drive Frédérique to Bordeaux? She has an errand or two to run there, but she’s afraid to drive in these conditions.”
Puzzled, Jules stared at his father.
“And she’ll be happy to spend some time with you,” Aurélien continued.
“As you wish,” Jules muttered as he stood up.
He had a hard time understanding why in God’s name his father was trying to push this time together on them, but he had no desire to ask. He flashed another smile and went looking for Frédérique, who was in the kitchen. Things were festive in the room, but the young woman seemed excluded from it all. As though they’d planned it beforehand, the other women weren’t even looking her way. Jules showed her to the garage and got the car out with obvious irritation. As soon as they hit the road, Jules opened his window.
“Are you nuts?” Frédérique said. “It’s freezing out!”
“When I need your comments …” Jules muttered.
The fact was that he was hot and tired.
Frédérique gestured angrily and asked, “Are you going to be obnoxious every time we’re together?”
“Yes. That way you won’t try to hang out with me. I would’ve been just fine without this little ride. Was it your idea? You’re trying to use me to make him jealous?”
Taken aback, Frédérique eyed Jules.
“You’re really a pain, you know that. As for your father …”
“Don’t talk to me about him!”
“You’re the one who brought him up. If you have something to tell me, just come out and say it!”
Jules raised his shoulders. He hesitated and then chose to be direct. “Does he love you?”
The question took Frédérique by surprise. She wondered suddenly whether she’d made a mistake by becoming Aurélien’s lover.
“I’m not in his head,” she answered prudently. “What about you? Were you in love when you took me to that hotel room?”
“No. I was attracted to you. I hope it’s the same for Aurélien. At his age, falling in love is serious. …”
They kept quiet for a moment. There were a lot of people on the streets of Bordeaux, folks wearing heavy coats and in a hurry to be done with their last-minute Christmas shopping.
“Can we coexist in peace, you and I?” Frédérique said suddenly.
Looking truly sorry, Jules said, “I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Why not?”
He waited until they arrived at the store she wanted to go to before saying, “Because I can’t stand the idea that you’re taking advantage of him.”
He leaned over her to open her door.
“Stop trying to protect him, Jules. He really doesn’t need it.”
As he was getting dressed, Jules suddenly felt dizzy. He leaned against the wall. In the mirror in front of him he saw the image of a young man looking tired in his white shirt, too thin and pale. He recalled that evening he’d spent with Frédérique. That was a long time ago, it seemed. He did remember quite well the disco where he’d met her, the group of friends she’d been hanging out with. And also that she’d left with him almost immediately.
“Something wrong?”
Laurène was watching him closely.
“The way you look … You’re not feeling well?”
“I’m cold.”
He put on his jacket and wondered if the house’s heating system was working properly.
“You must’ve caught a bug or …”
He took her in his arms and said, softly, “Or what? What do you think I’ve got?”
She was in her underwear, and he caressed her skin.
Seeing that she was closing her eyes, he whispered, “You better get dressed. …”
He felt exhausted and gave Laurène a sad smile. Then he left the room and went down to the kitchen, where he asked Fernande for a mug of hot milk. She made it for him immediately, without a word. She handed him a bottle of aspirin.
“Take a couple of these, too. You don’t look so good. Some of the guests are here already, in the living room with your father. You should go over. …”
Jules sighed, drank the hot milk, and decided to try to forget about his fatigue. He was greeted by Aurélien’s reproachful look. Antoine and Marie had arrived early, as usual, and Jules knew that Aurélien didn’t enjoy being alone with them. Since their quarrel the previous fall, their relationship had changed quite a bit. They no longer laughed at each other’s old, tired jokes, and there was always some amount of resentment or hostility in each of their quips. It had taken Aurélien fifty years to admit his contempt for Antoine’s vineyards, and nothing now could ever erase what he’d said in anger. For the sake of Jules and Laurène—the fact that they were going to get married—Antoine and Aurélien had decided to make up, but they’d done it reluctantly. And Alexandre’s habit of going over to Mazion every day only intensified Aurélien’s simmering anger.
Jules leaned in to kiss Marie. He wanted no part in this latent animosity. He was naturally on Aurélien’s side, no matter what, even if Aurélien was in the wrong, but Laurène was going to be his wife. …
“England didn’t do you a lot of good,” Marie said with a maternal smile. “You don’t look well, you know.”
Jules sat next to Marie and began telling her about his trip. But he could only talk to her briefly as he had to get up and greet other guests arriving.
Laurène had just walked into the room, discreet and timid, and Aurélien had been first to spot her. She was gorgeous in her very short, pale blue crepe dress. She looked so young and small that Jules crossed the living room to take her by the shoulders. She knew almost all the people who’d been invited that evening, but she noticed a difference in their attitude toward her. In the hierarchy of the wine producers gathered here, to be the future wife of Jules Laverzac was not the same as being only Antoine Billot’s daughter. She realized that with some resentment, though she couldn’t help feeling flattered.
Antoine, for his part, pouted while waiting for Alexandre to show up. He saw in him an ally. Now that he knew that Jules was going to be his second son-in-law, it was vital to him that Alex decide to settle in Mazion. His heart attack and hospitalization had left him embittered. The fact that both Laurène and Dominique lived under Aurélien’s roof, among Aurélien’s family, while no one seemed to care about his vineyards, made Antoine quite resentful. The very enviable social position of his daughters was, paradoxically, precipitating him toward ruin and solitude. Alexandre truly was his last hope, and he was ready to do anything to make his vision come to life. Perhaps by forcing Alex to open his eyes to the unpromising future he had at Fonteyne, what little consideration he’d always receive there …
In the kitchen, the children were screaming with joy as Clothilde, all dressed up, was serving a meal prepared just for them. After they were done, Dominique and Pauline said that whoever wanted Santa to bring them presents should go to bed now. Jules offered to accompany Clothilde and the children to the Little House, and he helped them put on their anoraks and hats. Laurène just had time to throw a coat over his shoulders before he left the house for the bitter cold of the night, holding Esther in his arms while the twins clung to his tux.
Fonteyne always shone in a very particular manner on party nights. Aurélien, having been without a wife for so long, was used to supervising everything and was a great host. And Pauline scrupulously respected the traditions so dear to her father-in-law. Under the sublime walnut coffered ceiling, the table was superb. In such a male house that usually had little use for whimsy, the atmosphere was at times heavy, stuffy. But on Christmas Eve, Pauline, Dominique, and Laurène had done everything they could to make the ambiance cheerful. Aurélien got a kick out of finding the flowers and candles decorated with glittering stars set on the table. By doing so, Pauline made Frédérique understand that only the women of the family could sometimes go against Fonteyne’s established order, if only in a small way.
Since the fall, Jules had presided at one end of the table, facing Aurélien. The other guests were seated according to a strict hierarchy. Jules, well aware of those conventions, appreciated his father’s setup. While absentmindedly fiddling with a fork, he noticed the pearl necklace—a single strand but exquisite—that Frédérique was wearing. His first reaction was to chuckle, thinking that there was the proof of her ambitions, just as he’d predicted. But then he was intrigued, realizing that the necklace’s clasp seemed old, almost antique, looking more like a family heirloom. He gestured at Alex, who was sitting right next to Frédérique, and saw his brother looking at the necklace then frowning with anger. Jules turned his attention to Aurélien, who was cheerfully chatting with a guest. He felt guilty and unhappy to be judging him.
“Very nice jewelry,” he said to Frédérique, almost in spite of himself. “Christmas present?”
She gave him an amused and direct look, ignoring the two guests sitting between them.
Jules leaned forward before adding, “Some sort of antique, isn’t it?”
“No doubt. …”
She was mocking him and he was exasperated.
“Aurélien always treated his lovers very well,” he said. “A very generous man, he is. I wonder where he found that wonderful necklace.”
Frédérique was no longer smiling.
“No idea,” she said. “I didn’t ask for the name of the jeweler or to see the bill.”
They glared at each other, but then Jules got ahold of himself.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It looks very nice on you.”
He marveled once more at her superb gray eyes and wondered what he would have done if he’d been meeting her for the first time this evening. But the woman sitting to his left was talking to him, and he had to turn to her.
“How does it make you feel knowing that you’ll soon be married, Jules? That’s all people talk about. You, the region’s idol, the number one catch, the region’s most independent bachelor …”
He mumbled some platitude, while vaguely smiling. He was suddenly very hot, and he leaned back in his chair.
“Are you okay?”
Robert looked his way and found that he was very pale.
“To your health,” Jules said, raising his glass in his brother’s direction.
But alcohol was doing him no good. He drank because he was thirsty and felt annoyed. He finally got to his feet, muttered an apology, and left the dining room. He made his way to the kitchen, where Fernande looked at him in amazement.
“Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”
“I came to ask you a question,” Jules said in a muffled voice. “Answer me frankly: Have you ever seen the necklace Frédérique is wearing tonight?”
Embarrassed, Fernande turned around.
“You left your guests to ask me that question?” she said.
He went over to her, took her by the arm.
“Fernande …”
She had never been able to resist him.
“Yes, maybe … I think I might have seen it, yes …”
“Where? Who was wearing it?”
“Don’t start anything on Christmas Eve, Jules. I don’t approve of your father’s behavior, but leave him alone. He’s watching you, you know. … You’re like cats and dogs.”
He was still holding the old woman’s arm, and he squeezed it.
“That necklace belonged to Lucie, right?”
“Yes. … It belonged to her when she was a girl. Nothing special. …”
Jules’s expression left no doubt that he was furious. It was now Fernande’s turn to clutch his arm.
“Go back to the table and don’t make a scene, I beg you! That’s all he’s hoping for. And don’t tell your brothers, Jules. …”
He gave her a gentle hug.
“Go back to the table,” she repeated in a soft voice.
Back in the dining room, he sat back down and looked at his father. Then he started to drink again, without eating. After the foie gras had come, the oysters arrived, and then the turkey with chestnut stuffing. Robert was eyeing Jules, a bit worried. He thought he looked grim, not well at all. And he noticed the glares that Jules kept shooting at Aurélien.
He looks like he hates him tonight, he thought. This doesn’t bode well. …
“You’re drinking too much,” Frédérique told Jules.
He burst out laughing, interrupting the conversations around him.
“Stepmom! You’re keeping an eye on me?”
At the other end of the table, Aurélien straightened in his chair. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Louis-Marie began chatting with Robert as though nothing had happened. Fernande brought the yule log, which distracted everyone. Pauline was giving Jules amused looks, knowing that he really shouldn’t be provoking his father this way.
Aurélien rushed through dessert, and he and the guests headed for the main living room, where coffee was being served. At midnight, everyone kissed and wished each other a merry Christmas. Aurélien and Jules gave each other a cold embrace, purely formal. When he got to Frédérique, Jules gave her a light kiss on the right cheek, but then took her by the waist and kissed her on the mouth. He’d done it quickly, but not so quickly that Aurélien, who was standing next to them, didn’t notice. Taking advantage of the overall brouhaha, Aurélien pushed Jules to the entrance hall.
“Something wrong tonight, son?” he asked.
Face-to-face, both of them furious, they stood at equal height.
“You’re giving away the family jewels, Aurélien?” Jules asked. “Do my brothers know that this necklace belonged to their mother?”
“Their mother? You don’t consider her your mother as well?”
Aurélien’s surprise was sincere, but Jules responded harshly.
“You’ve never said anything to me about my real mother.”
Aurélien figured that Jules must’ve been drunk to bring up the topic. It was the first time in thirty years. He took two
steps toward his son, menacingly enough to make him back up against the wall.
“How dare you use that tone with me, Jules?” he said.
Jules was staggering a little—fatigued, angry, feverish.
“You’ve had too much to drink? Well it’s no excuse.”
But Aurélien didn’t seem to notice that Jules was pale and sweating.
“You want war? Is that really what you want? I will not let you judge or question me. You hear me?”
“You must really be in love. …” Jules said softly to his father.
Aurélien couldn’t believe what Jules had just said. He raised his hand and slapped him violently. Jules hit the wall behind him. All the anger poured out of him, but he remained stunned, unable to make a move. Robert suddenly appeared behind them.
“Come on,” he said quietly to his father. “Leave him alone. …”
“I’m not scared of him,” Aurélien said, without looking at Robert. “Fifteen or thirty years old, he’s not going to be the king in my house. I’m not some old fool! I’m in charge around here!”
Robert forced his father to take a step backward. But Aurélien was still beside himself. Hitting Jules hadn’t made him feel better, on the contrary.
“Can’t you see he’s sick?” Robert pleaded.
“It’s a ruse,” Aurélien said. “He’s disrespecting me!”
“No. …” Jules muttered.
Robert stepped between the two of them.
“Leave him alone,” he told Aurélien again. “Go back to the living room. Our guests are waiting for you there.”
Aurélien made an effort to gather himself. He glared at Jules one last time, then decided to leave the entrance hall.
Robert took his brother by the wrist.
“You have a bad fever, you know. …”
They went up the stairs side by side.
“How can you stand that man?” Robert asked him.
The slap in the face that Jules had received reminded Robert of his childhood and adolescence.
“I pushed him to his limit,” Jules said, his voice weary.
“He behaves like a tyrant. He lives in another time, in another world. It’s like you guys are on a different planet here. …”
A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel Page 27