by Chloe Blake
Remy put his wine down and leaned forward, his expression grave. “Armand is selling the cab franc? The Van Dames said—”
“I’m not sure the Van Dames would know about this, Nic being family and all,” Maya said nonchalantly. “Nic, that reminds me. We have another appointment.” She turned from Nic’s stare. “Sorry to cut this short, but you are welcome to stay and taste more of the wines. Nathan will get you whatever you need.” She rose and turned to Nic. “Shall we?”
Nic rose awkwardly, looking between her and Nathan for a lifeline.
“Wait, wait.” Remy pulled himself to the edge of his leather seat. “If Armand is selling, I want in.”
“Oh,” Maya said innocently. “But you said the Van Dames—”
Benny burst from his chair. “Putain the Van Dames! I want that cab franc.”
“We can’t make any promises,” Nic said smoothly.
Remy stood. “I want in, too. And I want first look at the tempranillo when it’s ready. I’ll pay full price.”
“Outrageous, Remy!” Benny’s blustering face darted from Nic to Maya. “You tell Armand that I will pay double and I’ll buy the tempranillo right now!”
It was going better than she’d hoped. Both men had turned on each other and started a bidding war fueled by their own pride. It was classic negotiations. Sales 101. Nic and Nathan were looking at her like she’d started World War III.
“Gentlemen, please!” Maya shouted. “Your offers are generous, but we can’t make any promises until we speak with Armand.”
“And when will that be?”
“We’re driving up tomorrow,” Nic said quickly, cutting Maya off with a look, then striding out of the room. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Call me first!” Remy yelled at Nic’s back while Benny silently shook his head and mouthed to Maya to call him first.
Maya chuckled to herself. Her tease had gone better than expected. “Good day, gentlemen. Nathan will see to you.”
Maya hurried out of the room after Nic, finding him waiting for her in her father’s den. She closed the door behind her and then turned back to him with a bright smile. “That was crazy.”
“Crazy is right,” he half whispered, pacing the floor. He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you think you were doing out there?”
“Creating demand. You have it in your head that you need to sell the business, but you don’t. You just need to sell the grapes to the highest bidder.” Nic was silent. “You told those men to go elsewhere. There was no contingency plan. Your plan was to take my shares and sell this place off all along? And I bet you pitched it to Rhone.” God, she was good.
Nic uncrossed his arms and sat on the edge of the desk. “No,” Nic said softly, “I was discussing a partnership with Rhone to create a Le Bains bed-and-breakfast. Rhone would keep the vineyard, I would handle the guests. It wasn’t what our fathers wanted, but at least the vineyard would have been intact.” The picture of her father standing by the vine flashed in Maya’s mind. Her stomach began to hurt as he continued.
“Why?”
“I can no longer do this alone. I’ve been ignoring the hotel since you’ve been here, but soon I’ll have to go back to Paris, and Nathan is not strong enough to run this place on his own.”
“But you weren’t alone. My father—”
“Was slowing down. It makes sense now because he was ill, but at the time I thought he was just getting older and thinking of retirement. He knew of my long-term plans. I know he didn’t agree, but looking back, I think he knew he didn’t have much time left. In any event, his leaving you his shares was a surprise to me. Maybe he had hopes that you would come and take over where he left off, but that isn’t realistic. You can’t do this job from California.”
Maya looked away. After watching Nic in the vineyard that morning, she was pretty sure she couldn’t do this job at all. “So your long-term goals have arrived.”
“But my plans can’t go forward without my partner’s approval.”
“Then, no, I don’t like it.”
“Or her shares.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Nic looked away first. “In any case, we are still a brokerage and will act like one. Pack your bags. We have a trip to take.”
Maya frowned. “Where are we going?”
“Dechamps.”
“But I was just baiting them. I didn’t think we’d actually go there and—”
“Well, now we don’t have a choice. In two days you’ve put a wrench in my plans, and now I have to deliver grapes to those two old fools some way, somehow, or they will ruin my, and your father’s, reputation. Then there will be no business to sell at all. We’ll leave after lunch.”
Maya stared at Nic’s back as he strolled out, wondering if she should hand him his shares on a silver platter or with a pink bow.
Chapter 11
“We’re almost there,” Nic murmured as the manicured roads wound higher and farther into acres and acres of land. Grapevines marched in perfect lines over the hills, then suddenly her sight was cut off by large trees. Maya raised her head and peered into the sky, where the top of a white mansion played peekaboo with the tree line. Nic slowed, then turned into a driveway, the iron gate so large a giant couldn’t have scaled it.
Nic reach out of his window and punched a code into the keypad. Just watching the gate slowly open made Maya feel like she was in an episode of Game of Thrones. Once they were past the gate, a barrier of trees on both sides of the road guided them into a football field–sized flower garden blanketed with benches along flagstone walkways and marble statues of garden scenes. Unlit tiki torches appeared on the paths and led down the hill toward a giant lake with actual swans. But none of it compared to the three-story towering palace made of gray stone, flying the French, Brazilian and American flags along its long roof.
“You said a château, not a castle.” Maya worried about her lack of formal attire. Nic had said to bring a bag, so she’d packed light. And only on the way up did he ask her if she had brought a bathing suit. No, she hadn’t. Men!
“I believe it used to be the home of an old French monarch. No one history would remember, but someone who apparently lost their head during the Revolution. Uncle pulled it out of foreclosure.”
“This is your father’s younger brother?”
“Yes.”
“And where is your mother?”
“Spain. She moved back there after their divorce.”
“Oh, so that’s where Rayo comes from? Why don’t you use your father’s last name?”
“Having the name Dechamps was more of a hindrance than a help when I started the hotel. People assumed we were affiliated with the winery. I wanted to start my own path, so I dropped it for business purposes.”
“Why Nic and not Luca?”
He smiled a proud smile. “My mother calls me Nic.”
“Is she stubborn like you?”
He pulled around to the front of the manor and put the car in Park. Then he turned to her. “No, she’s headstrong, like you.”
She blushed at the intimate moment, then realized they weren’t alone as Nic’s gaze shifted over her head. She turned and saw people hovering around the car. Then she saw a stern-looking white-haired gentleman standing just inside the massive oak doorway. His suit was ivory and his gold-tipped cane glinted.
“Is that Armand?”
Nic let out a breath. “That’s him.”
“He looks intimidating.”
“You have no idea.”
In contrast, a very animated gentleman in casual dress opened her door and helped her out. With a short bow, he kissed her hand. “Bienvenue, mademoiselle. S’il vous plaît permettez-moi de prendre vos sacs.”
“She doesn’t speak French, Pierre,” Nic interrupted.
“Apologies, mademoi
selle. We are so glad to have you at Dechamps. Your father was a good friend of the family. Monseigneur is very anxious to meet you. Nic, it’s so good to see you as always. Please, come with me.”
Maya was about to get their bags when she heard running footsteps and saw a young boy and girl racing down the stairs. Monseigneur struck his cane on the concrete, and the two giggled then stopped in front of Maya. “Bonjour!” they yelled out, grabbing the bags from the back of the car and racing back up the stairs into the house. She remembered what Benny had said earlier, that he’d sell his firstborn...yikes.
“Who were they?” Nic asked Pierre, handing him his car key chain.
“Jillian’s grandchildren. They are twins—mischievous little angels. Armand has been plying them with cookies all morning, and now we are paying for it.”
Nic and Maya fell in line behind Pierre as they ascended the stairs.
“Who’s that?” Maya whispered, her chin jutting to Pierre’s back.
“The butler,” Nic whispered.
Of course, she said to herself. The butler.
“Bonjour, Uncle. Ça va?” Nic said to Armand as they approached. Nic towered over the older man and gave him kisses on both cheeks.
“Bien. Bien, Nicolas, good to see you. This must be Albert’s daughter. Mademoiselle Belcourt.” He took Maya’s hand and bowed, his face cracking into a smile that made her less nervous. “Enchanté.”
“Maya, may I introduce Armand Dechamps, the legend.”
Armand scoffed while Maya smiled back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I knew your father. The pleasure is mine. Please, come in. Tea is almost served.” Armand offered Maya his arm and led them down a long arched hallway.
“I know you are only staying one night, but I want you to make yourself at home.” They followed the long carpeted hallway past numerous rooms, all decorated in luxurious fabrics, large furniture, expensive-looking artwork and wall paintings that Maya assumed were originals.
“Those are lovely pianos,” Maya said as they slowly strolled by a blue-walled room with black dueling grand pianos.
“Do you play?” Armand asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
He patted her hand. “Maybe we can get Nic to play for us later.”
Maya looked at Nic over her shoulder. “You play?”
Nic frowned and shook his head.
“He’s quite good, but shy,” Armand whispered. Maya looked back just in time to catch Nic’s smirk.
They passed the billiard room, the den—which was bigger than her apartment—an arched opening to a downward staircase that led to the kitchen, and the largest forked staircase she’d ever seen leading upstairs. Next to it was a small elevator.
They made themselves comfortable in a large family room with a fireplace, a giant U-shaped couch, plush chairs and several Persian rugs.
“Should we get right down to business?” Armand asked.
“Uncle—”
“Nicky, please. You never visit me unless it’s about business. What’s happened?” Nic shifted in his seat. “Or would you prefer to wait until after dinner?”
“No... Benny said you had overproduction and were letting the Van Dames broker it for you.”
“You said you were phasing the brokerage out.” Nic lowered his eyes, and Armand’s shifted to Maya. “But that seems to have changed. Albert left you his part of the business, didn’t he?”
“He did,” Maya said confidently. “And we are here to tell you that we can handle any overproduction you have.”
Armand cocked his head. “What do you know about wine?”
“Nothing,” Maya said with a wide smile.
Armand laughed. “So honest. You remind me of my daughter-in-law. She’s from New York City. Very tough.”
“Uncle, you know I can handle any overproduction you have. But since when do you have overproduction?”
“Since Destin revamped my production line. Destin is my son, chérie. I get more juice from the squeeze, so to speak. It’s remarkable.”
“And did you promise the Van Dames your Pinot?”
“We haven’t signed anything, but yes, we discussed it. They seem to have found someone who wants it.”
“Yes. Benny.”
“What? Out of the question. I won’t allow that man to ruin my grapes. Turning them into that acidic hogwash he calls wine.”
Maya and Nic looked at each other. Maybe they should have waited until after dinner.
“Uncle, Maya won the Vinothérapie bath at the Children First auction.”
“Oh, it’s pure heaven!” Maya turned at the lovely English female voice. An older woman in a day dress with blond hair streaked with gray set down a tray with a large teapot and mugs. “Nicky, you look so handsome, doesn’t he, Armand?”
“You look lovely as usual, Madame Le Blanc.” Nic rose and hugged the woman. “This is Maya, Albert’s daughter.”
“Oh, goodness, you are gorgeous, aren’t you? Call me Jillian, dear. I’m a shout away if you need anything. Your room has a little call button. Don’t be afraid to use it. Oh, it’s so nice to have you both here, isn’t it, Armand?”
Armand was busy pouring his tea and loading it up with sugar cubes when Jillian took it from him just as he was about to drop in another cube.
“Armand, you know what the doctor said. One sugar and one glass of wine at dinner. Don’t think I don’t know how many cookies you had today.”
Maya and Nic looked at each other.
Armand struck his cane on the floor. “Madame, give me back my tea.”
Jillian ignored him and poured Maya and Nic’s tea first, offering them the sugar cubes and milk, then poured Armand’s tea, placing one sugar in its depths. “Here you go, you sneak,” she said to a frowning Armand before turning back to Nic and Maya. “Now, don’t be shy, dears, help yourselves to whatever you want. The twins have taken your bags to your room. Dinner will be at seven, very casual. How about I make arrangements for your spa baths around five?”
“That sounds lovely, Jillian. But we will need two rooms,” Nic said.
“Oh my, I thought—” She waved it away. “Never mind. I’ll make up the rosé room.”
“Merci,” Nic said.
“Oui, merci,” Armand said from the side of his mouth.
Jillian winked at Armand and sipped the sweet tea as she walked out of the room.
“That woman is going be the end of me,” Armand murmured. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”
Nic laughed. “Jillian has been running this house for over ten years.”
“Don’t remind me. Now, Maya, tell me about yourself.”
Tea was relaxing, with Armand yawning after thirty minutes. “I’m sorry, I must retire for a nap before dinner. I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy the bath.”
“Shall we unpack?” Nic suggested.
They took the wide stairs to the second floor, and Nic dropped Maya off at her room, a large alcove space with a white canopy bed, pink walls, a fireplace and a reading nook that looked out over the back of the house. She could see vines for miles. Her bag lay on the corner stand, but as she got closer, she realized it wasn’t her bag at all. It was Nic’s. She grabbed the leather duffel and strode down the hall. Nic opened his door with a smile and her Louis Vuitton duffel on his arm.
“You better not have peeked in there,” she said playfully.
“Ditto,” he said, and they exchanged bags. Then he invited her in. His room was similar to hers, but the walls were cranberry and the king-size bed was massive.
“Your uncle hates Benny.”
“He does, but it’s an old friend type of hate. They’ve been rivals for so long that his reaction is second nature. I have faith you can turn him.”
“Me? He’s your uncle.”
“Ye
ah, but you’re the expert at creating demand.”
“Is that another challenge? Was this your plan all along, to come here and watch me fail?”
“I don’t think you are going to fail. The word isn’t in your vocabulary.” Her head jerked back. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.
She turned toward the door as he set out his toiletries. He looked like a schoolboy, his hair falling into his face, that giant bed waiting for him. “We’ll get him at dinner. It might help to soften him up if you played the piano later.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m rusty.”
“So go practice.”
Nic jutted his chin out. “Go have your wine bath.”
“You’re not coming?” She heard the disappointment in her voice and fixed her pout into a flat line.
“I don’t think so. I have some things to do here first.”
She looked him up and down, and when he didn’t meet her eyes she shrugged. “Okay. See you later.”
She didn’t want to mention it, but he’d seemed distant in the car, his gaze focused on the drive. And then in his room, he could barely look her in the eye. Maybe she was pushing too hard. Or he was angry that she was interfering with his plans. Whatever it was, she felt her foundation was shifting out from under her. She supposed that when she was back in LA, it would be gone altogether.
She made her way the short distance from the back of the mansion to the spa, stopping briefly to gaze in awe at the miles and miles of vines that covered the landscape. She continued on a stone path to a vine-covered building that looked more like a small palace. The double doors opened before she even got to the entrance.
“Welcome, Maya.” A smiling woman in a flowing purple sari opened her arms and bowed. Maya entered and awkwardly reciprocated the bow, noticing the Asian music lilting in the background, an altar of Palo Santo scented wood next to white candles, a giant mural of Kali and the shoes in cubbyholes against the wall. “Please take off your shoes and follow me. Your journey begins now.”
They made their way across soft carpets and heated floors to a cozy rest area with wall-length lockers. Each locker held a white fluffy robe to change into, and Maya was given the option to enjoy the table full of teas and small plates of dried fruits before starting on her “journey.” Maya panicked when she remembered that she didn’t have a bathing suit, but she was told not to worry, that they recommend going “sky clad as nature intended,” but bathing suits were available at her request.