A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  Jules hesitated and then walked up to Alex. He clumsily mussed his brother’s blond hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “About everything. …”

  He went over by the French doors and stood there, giving Alex time to mull over what he’d just said. For a few moments, all the two brothers heard was the crackling of the fire. The wind was blowing, and Jules gazed at the few fluttering leaves that Bernard had missed.

  “What are we going to do?” Alex finally asked.

  Jules took a deep breath before answering.

  “If you want your old job back, it’s still yours.”

  “Louis-Marie also works here now?”

  “He mainly deals with the administrative side of things.”

  Jules turned back to face Alex.

  “I do need help and it’d be great if it were you,” he said. “And you and Dominique could move back into the Little House, so we wouldn’t have to put up with each other twenty-four seven.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Alex asked in an odd voice.

  Because you have nowhere else to go, and you need help, Jules thought.

  Instead, he said, “I never wanted to take away your share of Fonteyne. And I’m not talking about money, but your share of the work and the responsibilities. You have a right to this. You’re my brother … and you know full well that we don’t choose our family members, unfortunately. …”

  Jules was smiling, ready to make peace once and for all.

  “I’m the manager, Alex,” he said. “It’s not bothering Louis-Marie, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t be okay with you, too. Someone has to be at the helm of the ship!”

  Alex looked at him with an incredulous expression.

  “You’re doing this because of the trial?” he asked. “To get yourself off the hook?”

  Jules looked outraged. “Are you kidding? I won the case!”

  It was Alex’s turn to smile. He got to his feet and pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.

  “Since things are settled between us,” he said, “let me give you a Christmas present. Of course I didn’t have time to go shopping …”

  He handed his brother the piece of paper. Intrigued, Jules unfolded it and started to read.

  “My attorney gave it to me the other day, before you came to see me. But I’d already had time to think about it and decided not to go along with it. Besides, I really dislike that woman. She’s pretentious and condescending. … I gave her a lot of money. And then she comes over, looking like she’d struck it rich herself, to tell me that you’d be forced to sell some land to pay my part of the inheritance. I thought that was … awful. I don’t care about money. And even if you might not believe me, I do love Fonteyne. I’m giving you this piece of paper. You can toss it in the fireplace.”

  Jules had turned white. He snatched his pack of Gitanes off the desk and lit one. He was still holding on to the piece of paper.

  “Would you have done it?” he asked with all the calm he could muster.

  “No. Even drunk I wouldn’t have done that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  They looked at each other for a few moments. Alexandre had been capable of striking at the vines, Jules wasn’t going to forget about that anytime soon. Alex went over to him, took the piece of paper, tore it up, and threw the pieces into the fire.

  “I never could’ve gone that far,” he said. “Even if you were three times worse than you already are, which is hard to imagine, I couldn’t do it. That land is ours.”

  “Yes.”

  “It belongs to the four of us.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t care about Mazion.”

  “Of course.”

  They said nothing for a while. Jules was thinking about Valérie Samson with anger and bitterness. But he’d messed up, he knew that. He’d taken the risk of throwing fuel on the fire by sleeping with her. He’d hurt her, and she’d wanted to get back at him. That was part of the game.

  “And you think that … that it’s going to be possible to …”

  “What?” Jules said.

  “To not talk about all this anymore?”

  Jules stared at Alex. His brother had kept, in his face, something youthful, almost childlike.

  “I think it would be best, yes. …”

  “You know,” Alex said, his voice soft, “I never had any aspirations to run Fonteyne. Actually, I know I’d hate it. It’s too much responsibility, too hard, too risky a business. I never wanted your position. All I wanted was for you to ask for my opinion once in a blue moon. But you’re like Dad, you don’t really care about other people’s feelings.”

  “That’s a young man’s trait,” he said. “And I’m getting older. I have a family that’s making me age in a hurry!”

  Jules laughed. He suddenly felt relaxed, almost happy. Their conversation had erased months of worries, of latent guilt. Jules didn’t forget that he’d almost killed Alex. That he’d truly tried to kill him. And that he’d then hoped for reconciliation, without really admitting it to himself.

  He looked at the court order’s ashes.

  “No regrets about the fortune you just burned?” he asked his brother.

  “None whatsoever,” Alex said, resolutely.

  “Well, thank you very much for the Christmas present, then!”

  Turning away from the fireplace, Jules saw Alexandre standing by the French doors, looking out at the castle’s surroundings and the vineyards on the horizon.

  Jules went over to him, slapped his shoulder and said, “You’re right. Look at all this, it’s priceless.”

  Robert unfastened his belt and asked the flight attendant for some champagne. He put his arm around Pauline’s shoulders and pulled her against him. He’d feared a last-minute change of mind so much that he was almost surprised to be sitting next to her on the plane.

  “This is the first time we’ve traveled together,” he whispered.

  He thought she looked gorgeous in her dark-blue cashmere turtleneck.

  “If you only knew how much I love you,” he added.

  Pauline closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder. She’d told him nothing of her phone conversation with Louis-Marie. After hanging up the phone, she’d cried for a long time, convinced that she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. What kind of life would she have with Robert? She didn’t want any more children, but what about him? And where would they live? And what would she do with herself all day, as he spent long hours at the hospital?

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, while knowing that she’d never answered that question before.

  “About Esther,” she said. “I hope she has a nice Christmas.”

  “She adores her father, right? And then there are the twins, and the new baby …”

  He was trying to reassure Pauline, but she wasn’t really worried about her daughter. Dominique and Laurène would take care of her. Besides, Esther loved being at Fonteyne. In time, she’d probably convince her father to have a pool built, and her uncle Jules would no doubt show her how to ride. An irresistible treat for a child her age.

  As for me, Pauline thought, I’ll never be able to set foot there again.

  Louis-Marie had mentioned something about alimony, the sale of their apartment. Pauline wondered how she’d wound up in that position. Was Robert worth it? She opened her eyes to give him a sideways glance. He was handsome, younger than Louis-Marie, smarter, funnier. He’d also be more demanding and more jealous, she had no doubt about that. She finished her glass of champagne and took some gum out of her handbag, in anticipation of the landing. What was the point of torturing herself with all these questions? Robert was a marvelous lover, and they were getting to know each other more and more. She felt with pleasure the hand he’d just placed gently on her thigh. She decided to think about nothing except the wonderful Christmas Eve she was about to enjoy.

  Intrigued, Jules stepped out onto the terrace and looked at the cab coming to a stop a
t the bottom of the staircase. When the back door opened and he saw Fernande struggling to step out of the car, he rushed down the steps.

  “What are you doing here? Are you nuts?”

  Quite pleased with herself, she gave him a wink.

  “I don’t have any money on me,” she said. “Can you pay the driver?”

  Jules fished some bills out of his jeans, paid the man, then grabbed Fernande’s suitcase. She was wearing slippers and a bathrobe. Jules led her inside the house.

  “Did you leave the hospital without authorization?”

  “Not at all! I convinced Dr. Auber that I wouldn’t be able to bear spending Christmas in the hospital. I’m doing fine.”

  “What a pig-headed woman you are!”

  “I’m going to the kitchen,” she said.

  “Dressed this way? Fernande …”

  He looked at her, both delighted and worried.

  “I’m going to drive you home,” he said. “You’ll put on warm clothes, promise? And then you can watch Clothilde work, but I don’t want you to do anything. Okay?”

  “I swear,” she said. “And don’t worry. I’m no longer contagious, and I won’t go near the baby just in case.”

  He burst out laughing, thrilled that she was there, that she’d found a way to come back by herself, that she hadn’t been able to stay away from them.

  “Look who’s here!” Alex said, coming down the stairs. “You ran away from the hospital?”

  Fernande turned to him, stunned, before glancing at Jules, who smiled without offering any explanation about Alex’s presence.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

  “That pain in the neck invited me to spend Christmas Eve. And then to hang out here for a while. You know …”

  Fernande shook her head slowly. She was stunned by the brothers’ reconciliation. She wanted to ask a question, but Dominique burst into the entrance hall, and everyone began to speak at the same time. And then Alex offered to get the car and take Fernande home himself. He promised to first stop over at the cellar to let Lucas know.

  Fernande’s return made them all cheerful. Her presence made them feel younger and, in a way, protected. Jules walked to his office, whistling. He’d managed to bring the family back together, pretty much. Except for Pauline and Robert, but that situation was beyond his control.

  He glanced at the phone, scratched his chin for a second, then started to dial the Billots’ number. Laurène hadn’t talked to him about it, nor had Dominique. But Marie must have been waiting for his call, he was certain of it.

  Because he wanted everybody to be together, Jules had authorized the children to eat in the dining room. Esther and the twins had solemnly sworn that they were going to behave. As Lucas was invited, Jules asked Fernande to join them. She’d never sat at the Laverzacs’ table, and she declined the offer, horrified. Jules insisted but she wouldn’t relent, as always. That her husband be invited, as cellar master, was one thing, but she simply could not imagine being one of the guests. Christmas or not, she wanted to supervise her kitchen and stay there instead. She was so insistent about it that Jules had no choice but to accept her decision.

  Marie and Antoine Billot’s arrival at eight o’clock stunned everyone. Mrs. Billot, in her wheelchair, had a conqueror’s expression as she entered the library. Until the very last moment, Jules had kept it a surprise for Laurène and Dominique. Marie gave Alex a friendly greeting, and then went straight for little Lucie-Malvoisie, asleep in one of the twins’ arms.

  Two hours later, as they all sat at the table, Jules was able to appreciate the monumental effort Laurène had put into decorating the dining room. In Pauline’s absence, she’d taken care of the task by herself. She hadn’t asked Dominique for help, as she was busy preparing the meal. She’d taken advantage of the baby’s nap to go through the huge closets upstairs to find precious objects such as cloisonné vases, antique enamel ashtrays, crystal candleholders, and porcelain cherubs. She’d carefully displayed each one. She was rewarded with the children’s awestruck expressions as they were shown to their seats. Jules was presiding and placed Marie to his right. Laurène sat between her father and Lucas, while Dominique had Alex and Louis-Marie at her sides. When Clothilde and Fernande came in to serve the hot foie gras, they rediscovered the atmosphere of family reunions of the past.

  Jules raised his glass to toast Fonteyne and the Laverzacs. Doing so, he looked at Alex and smiled at him. His brother seemed happy to be home, in spite of everything that had happened.

  I don’t know what you would’ve done in my place, Aurélien, Jules thought, but he had to come back. …

  Jules thought about his father with both tenderness and respect, as he had in the past. And he hoped it would always be this way. Fernande’s revelation had changed nothing. Jules, who, in a deliberate act, had almost been his own brother’s murderer, couldn’t condemn his father for having killed involuntarily. And all he wanted to think about was the future. He had a family to take care of.

  “You’ve brought us all together,” Marie whispered to Jules, putting a hand on his. “I don’t know how you did it, but it was the right thing, you know. …”

  She looked at him with affection that overwhelmed him.

  “There are mountains of presents to put under the tree,” he told her in a low voice. “I’ll leave toward the end of the meal, and we’ll tell the children that Santa came by during dinner, okay?”

  “You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

  “No. Tonight. I want you guys to be here, with them. I want us to go to bed late, I want us to have fun.”

  “You’re such a kid,” Marie said.

  Jules laughed at her comment.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Antoine grumbled.

  He didn’t want to be left out. He still felt a lot of bitterness toward Jules, without realizing that he’d transferred onto the young man all the resentment he’d had for Aurélien. He’d never felt comfortable at Fonteyne and couldn’t understand how his daughters and wife could like it here so much. Or how Alex could stand to sit at this table.

  “We’re talking about the future,” Jules said.

  “Ah, yes,” Antoine said, “the future. … Tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m going to wind up alone in Mazion, right?”

  Jules nodded, a sparkle of irony in his dark eyes.

  “You know,” he said with a smile, “it’s been so heavy on all of our hearts around here. …We all feel Aurélien’s absence. … But I have a feeling that between Louis-Marie, Alex, and me, we’re going to manage. …”

  Antoine shrugged. No doubt about it, Jules was getting on his nerves.

  “Pauline staying in Paris?” he asked, knowing he was putting his foot in his mouth.

  “Yes,” Jules said, quickly. “I hope that you like lobster, Antoine.”

  The look he gave his father-in-law told him in no uncertain terms to change the topic.

  “Should we invite Mr. Varin and Dr. Auber for New Year’s Eve next week?” Laurène asked.

  Jules was pleasantly surprised by her excellently timed diversion, and he gave her a grateful smile.

  “I guess so,” Louis-Marie said. “They’ve been coming here on New Year’s Eve for years. It’s like a tradition now.”

  “There’s no way out of it,” agreed Jules. “But we have to admit that they’ve been very useful to Fonteyne this year.”

  Alex was the first to laugh, indicating he wasn’t offended by the comment. Then he turned to Mrs. Billot to chat with her, but saw that the old lady was contemplating her great-grandkids at the far end of the table. She’d always been in awe of the fact that those kids, her descendants, were part of the Laverzac dynasty. Alexandre asked for the water carafe and Dominique handed it to him. He’d kept his promise and was no longer drinking. But he still didn’t dare touch his wife much, afraid to rush things with her.

  “You know that Bernard cleaned up the Little House inside out?” Dominique suddenl
y told him.

  He smelled her perfume and smiled at her.

  “You’d like to go back there?” he said. “To flee my little brother’s tyranny?”

  He said that jokingly, without lowering his voice. The word brother had come to him spontaneously. His gaze met Jules’s, and he felt at peace with himself.

  “I always loved that house,” Dominique said. “And we were happy there.”

  He took his wife’s hand, under the table, and let go of it only when Fernande served the venison.

  “I received my Christmas present this morning,” Louis-Marie then said. “The mailman brought it to me.”

  He had a look of false modesty about him.

  Intrigued, Jules said, “And this present, you’re going to show it to us or is it top secret?”

  Louis-Marie reached inside his jacket breast pocket and set a small white book on the tablecloth, next to his plate.

  “As you can see,” he said, “it’s a novel.”

  “Give it to me!” Jules shouted.

  Dominique passed the book to him, and he examined it with obvious glee.

  “Even if you only have one copy, it’s mine! And I want you to sign it for me right this second!”

  Jules’s enthusiasm was genuine. He was thrilled at the thought that Louis-Marie had finally published the book, which, in a way, was going to liberate him from Pauline.

  “I’m meeting with my publisher’s publicity people in Paris the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll bring back a few more copies, since you stole that one.”

  “Can I see, too?” Alex asked. “Just a peek?”

  Jules smiled at his brother as he handed him the novel.

  “It’s not because I think everything is owed to me,” he said, “it’s just that I was first to speak up.”

  Alex laughed at this unexpected justification. He examined the book and noticed that Louis-Marie had dedicated it to his daughter. Then everyone wanted to look at it, including the children, but Jules wound up getting it back in the end.

  It was almost midnight, and the twins were yawning. Deciding it was time to play Santa, Jules snuck away from the table for the main living room, where the Christmas tree towered. In the hallway, he ran into Clothilde, who’d just made sure, once again, that the baby was sleeping in her crib upstairs.