The Chateau by the River

by Chloé Duval

  To let him leave with his mind at peace, to do good where he was needed.

  Longing.

  God, I was pathetic.

  “And my job is in California. So are you and Spencer. And my cats. I have to go back.”

  “I see. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you told Éric about Spencer?”

  Her question caught me by surprise.

  “Uh—no, not really,” I mumbled. “It didn’t come up and—”

  I didn’t finish my sentence.

  “‘It didn’t come up,’” my best friend repeated dubiously. “Of course it didn’t. Alex…are you in love with Éric?”

  “No, of course not!” I all but fell over myself to reply. “What do you mean? I love Spencer! I’m going to marry him!”

  Bea stared at me wordlessly for a long while.

  “Are you really sure you love him?”

  “Of course I am! You know that!”

  “That’s kind of the problem. I don’t. I know you, Alex, and I have a feeling everything is not all nice and tidy inside your head right now.” She paused. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

  I swallowed and waited.

  “Spencer is a good man.”

  “But?”

  “But he’s not the right person for you. I know you think you really love him, but I don’t think your feelings for him are true love.”

  I was about to protest when she raised a hand.

  “Let me finish! I know you care for him, I have never doubted that and the two are not mutually exclusive. But, sweetheart, you have to face the facts—you’re not really happy with Spencer.”

  “Of course I am!” I argued. “I’m happy! I’m very happy! Look at me, I positively glow!”

  Bea shrugged my protests away.

  “Just tell me this—when was the last time you felt completely and utterly fulfilled with him? When was the last time you told him you loved him and felt it right down to your gut? When did you feel like weeping with joy just because he was at your side?”

  I feverishly searched through my memory for an answer, but none came.

  “When was the last time you did something crazy and unplanned like the balloon trip?”

  Again, I was silent. There had to be something!

  “When was the last time you told him about the little tidbits of your life and our bouts of fun? Office gossip, what happened while you were standing in line at the movies, men flirting with us in bars…or even just telling him about going out for a drink with me after work? When was that, Alex?”

  Once again, my brain stalled. It wasn’t for lack of searching. I couldn’t believe I couldn’t find a single answer to any of her questions. But the truth was plain to see. There was nothing to find.

  Bea was right.

  At some point over the last few months, the last few years maybe, Spencer and I had stopped talking to each other. He couldn’t tell me about work, and he didn’t have time to anyway, and I…I felt that my little worries and thoughts were too ridiculous and small compared to his, and didn’t rate a mention.

  Little by little, I’d grown used to not talking to him, focusing instead into my genealogy research, my drawing, my books. And now I realized that some evenings we barely exchanged two or three words, each lost in our own world and thoughts, unaware that the other wasn’t a part of them. We had grown apart, and neither of us had noticed it.

  Panic washed over me.

  “Bea—” I began, unsure of what I was about to say.

  Her words rang inside my head. I felt feverish and lost. Utterly lost. I needed to think. To pause. To understand.

  But Bea wasn’t done yet.

  “Alex, I think it’s time you stopped lying to yourself. You’re bored, you’re not happy with Spencer. You’re not doing anything. You’re…faded. Believe me, you need someone different. Someone who can follow you in your passions, who can fuel them and not stifle them like he does. The light in your eyes tonight, the enthusiasm in your voice, your inner fire—I hadn’t seen those in forever.”

  “You’re wrong,” I protested. “You—”

  “I don’t think I am, Alex, and what’s more, deep down, you don’t think so either.”

  I shook my head, but she continued, relentless.

  “I’m going to ask you one last thing, Alex, and I want you to be honest. Not with me, but with yourself. Promise me.”

  “Promise.”

  “If you really loved Spencer as profoundly and sincerely as you wish to believe you do—do you think you could fall in love with Éric? And don’t pretend you don’t care about him. The only one you’re fooling is yourself, sweetheart.”

  “But I barely know him! I can’t be in love with him! I don’t want to—”

  “I’m not saying he’s the one, or that you should drop everything for him! I’m just saying—you don’t fall in love with another man, even a little, even just for the summer, if your relationship is strong. Just think about it, please. It’s not too late to change your mind. You deserve better than the life you’re leading. And I know you don’t want to hurt Spencer’s feelings, but I don’t think it’s fair to him, either.”

  I didn’t even try for an answer this time. I was too unbalanced by everything she had said to be able to string two coherent thoughts together. Her words found an echo within me, reflecting my own guilt, the feelings that had awoken deep down, the realizations I had experienced over the last few days and had tried to push away.

  I wasn’t ready. I needed to think. To assess. I needed time.

  “Bea, can I call you back? I need to—to think. To be alone.”

  “Of course. Whenever you like. I’m sorry, Alex, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you those things?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m grateful you did. I just…need to take it all in. And try and decide what to do.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk it out.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Good night, Bea.”

  I disconnected the call and put the tablet down.

  It felt like talking with Bea had made the very foundation of my life crumble. Yet I knew she had been telling me the truth. I had probably known for a while, but I hadn’t wanted to face it.

  I wasn’t happy. Spencer meant a lot to me, and I didn’t want to hurt him or have him walk out of my life. But—over the last few days, the idea of spending the rest of my life with him seemed less…thrilling. The thought of going back to California and resuming the life I had carved out for myself, the one I had chosen and that had seemed so reassuring, felt like a death knell.

  Everything was mixed up inside my head. I no longer knew what I wanted, where I was at.

  I was utterly lost.

  * * * *

  I hadn’t gotten any further the next morning when I drove over to the castle after a sleepless night. Max’s enthusiastic barking greeted me as soon as I got out of the car, and I had barely reached the former stables when he jumped at me, tail wagging frantically.

  He had missed me, apparently.

  It felt good.

  I crouched and petted him.

  “Hey, buddy! You look good! I missed you too, you know.” He licked my hand cheerfully. “I hope you haven’t done anything reprehensible with that tongue before you slobbered all over me!” I half laughed but didn’t pull away.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice behind my back asked.

  The curt tone was easily recognizable—and irritating. I felt cracks splinter across my heart as I rose to my feet to turn and face Éric. His eyes were cold and almost disdainful.

  Was he upset I had fled the day before? He had been very clear, however, that he didn’t care what happened to me.

&nbs
p; A lump formed in my stomach.

  It felt like our first meeting all over again, when he had been as rude as possible. I should have been glad. It would make pulling away that much easier. Yet his reaction filled me with unbearable sadness.

  I still pasted a smile onto my face.

  “Hello to you too,” I chirped with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m good, thanks, how about you? Didn’t sleep well? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Must be why you’re so grumpy on such a beautiful morning. Don’t worry, though, I have good news that will put the smile right back on your face. Guaranteed or your money back.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Good news?”

  “Uh-huh. I have a plan to buy you some time before you have to sell the castle.”

  His face relaxed into a softer expression that suited him so much better.

  Longing…

  “You found a solution?”

  “I promised, didn’t I?”

  “You did, but I thought—” He hesitated, and suddenly he seemed so very fragile, as if he had lost all self-confidence. “You always seemed so eager to leave each time I came across you these last few days, I thought you’d changed your mind. That you weren’t interested anymore.”

  If only he knew.

  “I just took advantage of my last few days to play tourist.” I couldn’t help but add, without really knowing why, “And I gave you my number. You could have called if you wanted an update.”

  “Yeah, I could have. I just—didn’t want to bother you.”

  “You wouldn’t have bothered me,” I said gently. “Not at all.”

  What was the matter with me? Why the heck had I said that? Alex, what is wrong with you!

  Yet when I saw the sudden grin lighting up his face, I couldn’t help but feel a glow of contentment spread through me.

  “Can I offer you something to drink while you tell me about it? I have tea.”

  “I thought you didn’t like tea?” I remarked. “Changed your mind?”

  “Absolutely not. I bought it for you.”

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later we were sitting in the former stables with a cup of coffee in front of him and a chai latte for me—he hadn’t just bought tea, he’d chosen my favorite—as I prepared to give him the details of my plan.

  “Okay, first of all, you have to let me finish before you interrupt, and you should think about all the aspects involved before you react.”

  “All right.”

  His attentive gaze rested on me. I cleared my throat and launched into my prepared speech.

  “So, I told you how I work for a wine company that wants to implant itself in France, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Yesterday I went to the museum you told me about, and I met Bruno Lepic. We spoke at length of the castle and its history. He mentioned that there used to be a vineyard in a northern plot of the estate, up until it was destroyed during the French Revolution.”

  I could tell from the gleam that suddenly lit up Éric’s eyes that he understood where I was going with this. Yet he remained silent and motioned for me to carry on.

  So I did.

  “With your approval, what I’d like to do is submit that land to my employer as a plot to be rented for a new vineyard.”

  Éric sat up slowly and leaned forward.

  “Why would they accept?” he asked, dubious. “I imagine they’ve probably found bigger and better located places, ones that would be more interesting for them. Why would they care about this one?”

  “Because I’m going to give them arguments that they can’t possibly refuse.”

  “Such as?”

  Ever the skeptic. I raised my chin. Okay. He was as tough as Elizabeth, so if I could convince him, I had a decent shot with my boss.

  “Well, first of all, I want to offer up the possibility to re-create an old variety of vine. If you accept my proposal, I’m going to call the National Institute of Agricultural Research and ask them if they have old stock, and what it would take to re-create some if they don’t. I want the vineyard to be unique, which would make my company have to consider it in spite of its smaller size. The sites we’ve shortlisted so far are larger and should allow for large-scale production, and some of them even already have live vine stock, but I want to gamble on the limited area to promote a more reduced output. Preferably we’d create a vintage. We could attract another category of consumers, higher up the social ladder, such as luxury restaurants or wine collectors.”

  I’d unwittingly slid into commercial and professional mode. Éric’s eyes were glued to me, but I had difficulty reading his expression.

  I rolled on. The sensitive part was coming up, and it was the one I was most nervous about. I had no idea how he would react.

  “I also want to emphasize the…shall we say…philanthropic side of the endeavor.”

  Unsurprisingly, Éric frowned.

  “Which is?”

  “I want to insist on the fact that if they invest in this vineyard, the company will be helping save an important monument of French cultural heritage. And that, in the eyes of consumers and local inhabitants, is one hell of an asset. It will be much easier for them to settle in and work with the local population if their activity helps rebuild a ruined castle and develop a city by creating jobs and promoting the region, even on a small scale.”

  “You want to tell them that saving the castle is a good deed that will get the locals on their side. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  I eyed him for a few moments before I replied.

  “That’s kind of a harsh way of putting it, but yeah, that’s exactly the button I want to press, because I know it’s important. You can’t tell me it’s not. Bruno himself told me that the town needs money, that he has a lot of projects to develop Chandeniers. Imagine how many jobs will be created, the taxes raised, the wine tourism. You’d have the money to create the association your father wanted to restore the castle. If this works, it could be the start of a huge change in the region, for the castle and for you. You could go back to Africa or Asia or wherever you want, because the association would take care of your father’s inheritance for you. You’d be free, Éric! Isn’t that what you wanted? To have your cake and eat it?”

  “Can I get the baker girl too for good measure?”

  “Huh?”

  “Forget it. Anyway, all of this is only if your boss says yes, right?”

  “Yes. But if you don’t want me to, I won’t say anything. I won’t do anything without your agreement.”

  He gazed at me for a few seconds.

  “And if I agree,” he said slowly, “and your boss okays this little social experiment, we’re all good?”

  “Not quite. We’d have to check a few parameters first to see if we can use the land.”

  “Such as?”

  I briefly summed up the process. We’d take physical and chemical samples to check the nature of the soil, the presence of bacteria, the agricultural potential—all things that would help with the choice of compatible vine stock and the preparation of the soil. I also detailed the profitability surveys and market studies we’d have to do.

  “If all the results indicate that we have a chance of success, then my boss will strike a deal with you, and together you will mark off the plot reserved for the vineyard. We’ll then be in charge of preparing it, as well as building the wine storehouse. This means there would be a team on-site to supervise. Once that’s done, we’ll plant the vine stock. Of course, we’ll need a few years before we can start making wine, but I have a few ideas to use the facilities in the meantime.”

  “Okay.”

  “This means,” I pointed out, “that if you accept, you’ll probably feel overrun with Americans often enough. They will consider they are at home, because it will be their land. You’ll be entitled to have a
say on some matters, but they will be the ones in charge. Not you.”

  “Understood. I accept.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, and you’re going to have to compromise on some things you won’t like, but—what did you say?”

  “I said I accept.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “I can tell this is the best chance I’m going to get to save the castle. So I’m willing to compromise where needed.”

  I almost leapt for joy. Nothing was guaranteed yet, but I’d just cleared the first hurdle—and probably the most important one to me.

  Over the next hour, Éric and I went over the project together. Before she’d left for the US, Elizabeth had left me the phone number of one of her friends working at the Institute of Agricultural Research in Paris. Luckily, he was a workaholic and I managed to get hold of him right away. He couldn’t answer then and there, but he promised to look it up and get back to me as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’d have to do without.

  Éric and I then went out to take a few pictures of the castle, the plot of land I intended to submit and the grounds. I’d add them to the file I would show Elizabeth as soon as I was back.

  Lunchtime had long since come and gone by the time I decided I had more than enough for my purposes.

  “Are you free right now?” Éric asked just as I packed away my camera and file, ready to return to the inn to search for the costume I was still missing for that evening’s ball. “There’s something I would like to show you.”

  You should go, the voice of reason whispered.

  “Sure,” I heard myself reply.

  His smile practically lifted me clear off the ground.

  Longing…

  “Follow me.”

  I trailed him through the grounds. The sun blazed overhead, not a trace of the torrential rain of the previous day in sight. Slightly behind him, I walked in silence, lost in a daydream. From time to time my eyes wandered over his broad shoulders, his hips, his ass…and I blushed, thankful he couldn’t see, remembering my sketches.

  You’re pathetic, I chided myself. Stop it this instant. You’re playing a dangerous game.

  A dangerous game I couldn’t seem to resist.