Saskia smiled and gathered Amber and Kate for a hug on her bed. ‘Thanks. I am not going to need it, whatever it is, but you are so kind to me and I promise to wear whatever pretty frilly you have chosen, even if it is to walk up and down freezing-cold wine cellars. I shall feel very special.’
‘Of course you will,’ Kate snorted. ‘But don’t forget to book Rick as your date for Amber’s wedding. New Year is a busy time for boys and he ticks all the boxes for tall, dark and handsome.’
‘My date? This is Rick Burgess you are talking about. He never takes anything seriously. It’s as though life is a great joke to be enjoyed at someone else’s expense. He’s obviously coasting and filling in time before he can slip off to the nearest ski slope or some yacht. Well, I know his type only too well. My dad was exactly the same. Well-off, handsome and super-confident. And a complete disaster when it came to managing his finances and relationships. As far as I’m concerned Rick might as well be standing there waving a red warning sign with the words “Danger. Keep away” written in large black letters.’
Saskia shivered in dramatic horror and then paused and narrowed her eyes as she whizzed around to face Kate. ‘Wait a minute. How did you know what he looks like? Oh no. You looked him up on the Internet, didn’t you?’
‘That was me.’ Amber giggled. ‘Your Richard is quite the professional sportsman. Very fit. You are a lucky girl.’
‘I give up,’ Saskia groaned. ‘You two are quite incorrigible.’
‘That’s why you need us,’ Kate replied, fluttering her eyelashes. ‘And don’t worry for a second about this place. Amber is house-sitting and answering the phone and I promise to pop over every evening and gobble up all of the treats in your freezer and drink your wine.’
She paused and waved both arms in the air with a flourish. ‘We’ve got it covered. All you have to do is smile and charm your way through the week with your usual flair. Piece of cake!’
* * *
Saskia stood silently on the golden stone patio of the Chateau Morel in the September sunshine and looked out over the rows and rows of neatly trained vines that were destined to create the greatest sparkling wine in the world; champagne.
And thought seriously about dumping Rick and catching the first train back to London.
Piece of cake, Kate had said.
Well, there was nothing sweet about how Saskia would describe the past few hours.
Rick had changed his mind and decided that it would be easier to drive them to the first of the three independent vineyards himself. Which meant that she had been strapped into the passenger seat of the macho four-by-four that Rick had borrowed from one of his team for what had seemed like an eternity.
All the while trapped within arm-touching distance of Rick Burgess on the drive down through the flat countryside of northern France, which she’d thought would never end.
Rick had an incredibly annoying ability to look completely calm and unstressed no matter what delay hit them on the way. The traffic jams on the motorway to the coast—no problem. Dodging in and out of the traffic chaos of the French road works madness as a lorry veered in front of them? It only made him smile that certain smile which turned the corners of his mouth a little higher.
While she was clutching onto the roof straps of the car with both hands in terror.
It was totally infuriating.
The problem was, the more unruffled and calm Rick appeared, the more she wanted to take hold of his shoulders and give him a violent shake and scream out that it was time to wake up and get to work. He could be laid-back any time he wanted, but not now. Not when she had work to do back in London.
Take now, for example. They had been right on schedule arriving in Reims and she was all ready to get started on the details when Rick decided that he needed to take a look at the vines. Leaving her behind in the cellar.
That was two hours ago.
The heels of her high-heeled designer shoes dug into the loose gravel chippings as she tried to walk calmly across the patio and back towards the chateau. She refused to look down and check the damage. Rick would get far too much satisfaction from that. He had taken one look at her footwear that morning and snorted with a dismissive shake of his head. His smart flat leather boots were, of course, perfect for strolling down between the rows of vines and across the rough stone flagstones.
To make matters worse, her cellphone had never stopped ringing from the moment she’d got into Rick’s car that morning and, after two hours of terrible mobile reception and her increasing frustration, he had barely given her time to research a few new suppliers of kitchenware before declaring that his car was an Internet-free zone and laptops were not allowed.
She needed to confirm these new bookings for the spring, not make conversation about soil type and climate and all the things that came together to make this small estate unique in over three hundred of the champagne houses in the Reims area of France.
The cheek of the man. She was supposed to be helping him out! What did he expect her to do? Just forget about Elwood House and treat this trip as some sort of holiday?
Not going to happen.
Even if he was paying her and the setting was absolutely glorious.
The Chateau Morel looked like a white fairy tale castle which had been dropped gently from the sky into the fields of vines.
While the wine? Okay, she had to confess that the champagne that these grapes produced was special. Rare and expensive. In fact, it was precisely the kind of wine that Rick needed to boost the status of his flagship store, after all, there was not a wine shop in the world which did not stock champagne. Elwood Brothers had been famous for their range and quality for decades.
What was even more infuriating was that Rick kept reminding her that she should be excited to see the grapes before harvest! But the truth was she felt too preoccupied and anxious about her work to enjoy the moment.
Saskia rolled her shoulders back with the warm sun on her face as she watched Rick and their host, the Comte de Morel, stroll towards the chateau between the vines, pausing only now and then to taste the grapes. The sound of their gentle chatter rolled towards her.
Just when she thought that he couldn’t spring any more surprises on her, Rick had turned the tables. The man she was looking at now was asking exactly the type of intelligent and knowledgeable questions that any grower would expect from another professional.
That was it—professional. Right down to the smart jacket and expensive wristwatch and cufflinks. The denim and boots were just the same. The designer stubble and tousled hair hadn’t changed, but his whole attitude and mood had transformed once they’d hit the open road.
If this was Rick trying to impress her and convince her to buy the wine, he was making a fine effort. And, so far, he had not embarrassed her once.
This was not the Rick she had met in London. This was Rick Burgess, the working wine merchant and negotiating charmer. His laughter rang out and suddenly her confidence faltered and she felt out of her depth.
This was so ridiculous.
She was Saskia the calm. Saskia the girl who was always in control. Saskia the girl who knew exactly what she was doing at all times.
It was just that it had been such a long time since she had stepped away from Elwood House and given herself over to someone else to make decisions and take the lead that she was finding it hard to adjust to Rick being in the driving seat.
Excitement combined with anxiety meant that she had barely slept the night before, after the girls had left, with promises to keep them informed on how a little trip with Rick the Reckless, as Kate called him, was going.
If she had come here alone, or with Aunt Margot, she would be able to relax and take the time to learn from the best. Building her knowledge and experience.
But she was way too much on edge to relax for even a second.
Plus, Rick was expecting her to pay attention and make a decision whether to buy this wine, not take time out on holiday. And there was
one thing she had learned and promised herself over the years. Once she made a commitment to do something then she would see it through. No false promises. No tricks.
She had promised Rick that she would visit the vineyard and she had. Now came the hard part. Making sure that the Elwood connection was not pulled into whatever Rick was trying to prove here. For better or for worse!
Time to get to work. Because here he was, casually walking towards her as though they had all the time in the world.
‘You are looking a bit fierce standing there with your conference folder and pen,’ he quipped. ‘All ready to stomp into a business meeting and start taking notes.’ Then he gestured towards the house. ‘I think you scared Pierre off.’
‘That is what we are here for, after all. Business. And does the Comte de Morel normally answer to the name Pierre?’
His gaze slid onto her face. By way of her cleavage and neck. Which, of course, made her neck flare up, adding to the embarrassment.
‘Why not? That is his name. And I keep telling you, this is the new generation. Pierre prefers guests to be informal.’
Saskia lifted her chin and tugged down on the hem of her smart suit jacket. ‘Not sure I can do that. Too many years of training.’
Rick’s cellphone rang out with the first beats of a popular dance track and he glanced at a few screens and winced before replying. ‘You can put your folder away. Don’t worry about the production figures.’ He tapped his smartphone with two fingers. ‘Pierre has just copied me with the latest costings and projections so we can talk them through when we’re back on the road. Now, don’t look so surprised. I can do business planning when needed.’
‘Surprised?’ Saskia cleared her throat, hating that she had been so obvious. ‘Not at all, Mr Burgess.’
‘It’s Rick,’ he groaned. ‘We are trying to keep things informal. Remember?’
‘Is that why you decided to drive yourself?’ she asked, teasing him. ‘I’m sure that a big company like Burgess Wine could afford to provide a limo with a driver. Your parents must be pleased that you are taking such interest in the wine business. Quite the entrepreneur, in fact,’ she chuckled, looking out over the fields of vines.
‘There are okay with it,’ he replied, hooking her arm around his elbow and stepping closer so that their bodies were side by side and it was impossible for her to move away. ‘Results shout louder than promises. Or something.’
‘Okay.’ She hesitated, and her feet slowed a little even in the gravel. ‘Do they know that we are here today, talking to growers? I don’t want to get involved in some family dispute.’
Rick came to a dead stop and whirled around to face Saskia. His gaze locked onto her face. And those grey eyes were suddenly not so warm in the September sunshine, but more like granite. Fierce, commanding but intelligent. For the first time Saskia had a glimpse of some of that inner steel that drove men like Rick to become professional sportsmen. It was the kind of look that had no place in a nice, safe office job.
‘Family dispute? What gave you that idea?’
Saskia tensed and licked her lips before replying. ‘What I meant to say was that I thought the Burgess Wine empire is based in California. Opening a London branch is a complete departure. It makes me wonder if the company is splitting into separate divisions. That’s quite a challenge.’
Rick exhaled slowly then sniffed, as though weighing up what to make of her question.
‘Challenge?’ Rick’s eyebrows crushed together and he frowned. ‘Is that what you think?’
But before Saskia could create some sort of answer he tilted his head to one side and gave a small shoulder shrug. ‘A challenge,’ he repeated, nodding slowly. ‘Yeah. When I pitched the idea to my parents last Christmas, they used a few more colourful expressions to describe the notion. A challenge just about sums up the general response.’
‘I see,’ she replied. ‘Wait. Did you say last Christmas? Surely you have seen your parents since then?’
Rick took tighter hold of her hand and started walking towards the house. ‘No need. Modern communications. I can work anywhere. They run the business out of Napa and right now the biggest wine festival in the world is about to kick off. They don’t want to be involved in the new enterprise in London. Small beer.’
Saskia glanced back at him. She recognised that tiny change in his voice that was so familiar to her it seemed like an old friend. She knew what it was like to defend her parents and their decisions and their over the top lifestyle choices. Especially when those choices did not include her.
What was surprising was that Rick had the same problems she had. Real problems. Problems she recognised only too well. He was trying to keep the tone of his voice light and smiling but below that effortless charm was a well of sorrow.
‘You’ve reminded me that I need to arrange my mother’s Christmas present. She’s staying in New York with her latest beau this year and I’ll be working in London, as always. Thank heavens for telephones.’
He chuckled somewhere deep down in his chest. ‘It seems that we have a few parental issues in common.’
‘Oh?’ she replied in a calm, low voice. ‘Is your father in prison too?’
Rick burst out laughing at that and released her hand as he held open the door.
‘Touché. You win that one. Why don’t we drink champagne and leave our families where they belong? Out of sight and out of our lives. Deal? Deal.’
* * *
‘More cheese, Rick? I tried to save you the last slice of the walnut bread but I was too late, Pierre got to it first.’
Anna gestured with the cheese knife towards her husband, Pierre Morel, the tenth generation owner of the Chateau Morel, who threw his hands up into the air in protest. ‘Can I help it if I have a healthy appetite? Anyway, you are one to talk. I only turned my back for two minutes to load the dishwasher and what was left of those excellent handmade chocolates Rick brought with him had done a magic disappearing act.’
Anna kissed the top of Pierre’s head. ‘It’s quite true,’ she laughed and pressed one very dainty hand to her chest. ‘Sweet tooth and a total chocaholic. Now, that is a pretty deadly combination. And I feel totally guilty.’
Rick chuckled and sat back on the wide kitchen chair and patted his stomach. Things had certainly changed an awful lot since he had visited the estate with his parents and Tom as a teenager. The old comte and comtesse of the Chateau Morel had insisted on serving canapés and coffee in the huge echoing great hall with waiting staff glaring at every crumb which fell onto the thread-bare hand-woven and embroidered carpet. Before the comte haughtily declared that he did not sell his prestigious wine to anyone less than premium outlets. He had made it only too clear that the list did not include an online wine retailer who specialised in affordable wine for barbecues and sharing over a plate of pizza.
Now their grandson Pierre and his charming Dutch-born wife Anna were wearing casual trousers and shirts and seemed genuinely delighted to welcome them into their warm, cosy kitchen and a delicious, simple family meal.
‘Please don’t feel guilty.’ Rick smiled. ‘It was incredibly kind of you to offer us lunch at such short notice, and I couldn’t eat another thing.’
‘I could.’ Saskia laughed. ‘This cheese is amazing.’
‘A local goat farmer makes it for us to a traditional recipe. It was one of the first things we stocked in our farm shop and it is always a best seller. I am glad you like it.’
‘Delicious,’ Saskia replied and cut another wedge. ‘And thank you again for the tour. Especially just before harvest. Such an exciting time of year.’
‘We have been very lucky with the weather.’ Pierre nodded. ‘But you’re right; this is going to be an excellent vintage.’
‘You know, my Aunt Margot always adored Chateau Morel dry champagnes and refused to serve anything else. Although...I do seem to recall that your grandfather persuaded her to try a few magnums of pink champagne for special occasions now and then. It was her speci
al treat on hot summer evenings. Are you planning to continue that tradition?’
Anna shrugged and looked across at Pierre before pouring the coffee. ‘We’re not sure that there is enough demand to make it worth our while, but it is definitely something we will continue for the next couple of years at least.’
‘That’s wonderful. I love it so much.’
Pierre nodded and then smiled gently across at Saskia as he rolled his coffee can between his fingers, but when he spoke there was some hesitancy in his voice. ‘I remember meeting your Aunt Margot. It must have been about fifteen years or so ago and I was a young apprentice winemaker. I can still remember walking through the doors of Elwood Brothers. Your aunt ran the best wine merchant in London and yet she took the trouble to welcome us as old family friends. She was a remarkable woman and a very loyal customer. I am only sorry that she never had an opportunity to visit us.’
Anna sat quietly sipping her coffee with her head down as Pierre squeezed her hand.
‘I am sorry too,’ Saskia whispered. ‘I still miss her very much. Margot would have adored coming here.’
Saskia pressed the forefingers of her left hand to her mouth and sucked in a breath and just for a moment looked as though she was about to start crying.
Rick hadn’t expected that!
A trembling flicker of connection started deep in his stomach. From what Saskia had told him, she was not close to her mother and he knew that her father was serving time for embezzlement. Her aunt must have been the only family she could rely on.
Saskia had come here with no clue that she was going to be emotionally ambushed by a stranger who had known the aunt she’d so clearly adored.
And now Margot Elwood was gone and she still hadn’t got over it.
Well, he knew what that felt like.
Worse, Saskia was sitting in this kitchen because he had changed his mind overnight and picked her up in one of the team’s cars and driven them here instead of flying to Strasbourg and going directly to the auberge in Alsace.
His decision. Flying by the seat of his pants. Changing the rules at the last minute. Stirring things up.
Blame It on the Champagne Page 7
