Chapter 16
Sixteen
Elise
Iwake to the ping of an email. I’m working through my second week here at Chateau, and for a split second, I worry it’s something from Sebastian or one of the vineyard staff, another list, another reminder of something I’m not doing right.
But when I see Kingston’s name, my whole body loosens.
He’s done just as he promised and emailed me every day.
I sit up in bed, tug the duvet tighter around me, and click it open. Just a few lines, but they’re enough to warm me more than the weak sun spilling through the shutters. He thought of me. He misses me.
God, it makes this Monday morning feel like it could actually be good.
I want to write him back immediately, pour out all the ways I miss him, how the dorm is isolating despite the community living, how the staff still glance at me like I’m a visitor who doesn’t belong.
But if I tell him the truth—how lonely I am, how much I regret agreeing to this exchange—I know exactly what he’ll say, Come home.
And the last thing I want is an excuse to quit before I’ve even tried to stick it out.
So I keep it light. A thank you. A comment about how beautiful the vines looked in the mist last night. Something safe. Something that won’t make him worry.
When I close my laptop, the silence of my little room presses in.
I haven’t made a single real friend here, not the way I thought I would.
The work is grueling, and I’m the only woman working in the vines.
Claire is the closest to a possible companion, but I don’t see her much during the day, and in the evenings, I’m still too exhausted for much socializing.
The thought of another lunch alone at the community tables in the dining hall makes my stomach sink.
I pull on jeans and a T-shirt, shove my hair into a messy knot, and step into the hall. After I hit the restroom downstairs, I knock on Claire’s door.
She answers with a smile, cardigan hanging off one shoulder, a notebook tucked under her arm. “Hey, Elise.”
“I was wondering…” My voice comes out softer than I mean it to. “Would you like to have lunch together today?”
Her eyes brighten. “I’d love that. I usually just eat in my room and then go for a walk, but it’ll be nice to have company. We can eat in the cafeteria and walk together after if you want.”
Relief floods me. “That sounds perfect.”
She grins. “Then it’s a date.”
I wave goodbye and find myself smiling as I head out toward the vineyard. Maybe today won’t feel quite so lonely after all.
By the time I step onto the gravel, the hum of activity has already begun—tractors rumbling down rows, hoses snaking across the ground, the smell of earth in the air. Workers call to one another in quick French, voices carried on the crisp morning breeze.
I tug on gloves and grab a hose, water beading down my arm before I’ve even started watering.
The ground is soft from last night’s rain, the smell of smoke in the air from yesterday’s cut canes that are now being burned.
My shoulders ache within minutes of lifting and dragging.
Sweat prickles down my spine, stinging where my shirt clings damp to my skin.
The sun climbs in the sky, but it isn’t long before I’m back to cleaning in the cellars. That’s an unending job. You start at one end and clean to the other, and it takes all day. Then the next day, you start over.
When the bell clangs faintly across the grounds, I peel off my gloves and wipe sweat from my brow. My stomach growls, and for once, I don’t dread the cafeteria. Claire will be waiting.
Sure enough, she’s at a window table with two bowls of bouillabaisse steaming in front of her, the broth rich with saffron, and a basket of crusty bread nearby.
“This looks amazing,” I say, sliding into the seat across from her.
“It’s my favorite,” she admits, tearing a piece of bread. “They only make it once a week.”
The food is warm and comforting, but it’s the conversation that sustains me. She leans in when I tell her I grew up on a vineyard, eyes wide with curiosity.
“That’s incredible,” she says. “And now you’re here doing this exchange?”
“Yeah. But home is nothing like this place. Our vineyard is a fraction of the size of Chateau.”
Claire tilts her head. “Still, that’s more than most people start with.”
“How about you?” I ask. “How did you end up here?”
Her grin turns sheepish. “I followed a man. I thought moving to France was romantic. The man didn’t last, but I got a job here in marketing. My work visa’s up in a few months, though, and I’ve decided not to renew.”
“What will you do?”
She shrugs. “No idea. I’ll figure it out.
I’m hoping having worked for three years at Chateau will help.
” Then she laughs, but it sounds thinner this time.
“Honestly, I should’ve pushed harder when I first arrived.
I kept my head down, afraid of making mistakes, and I got stuck with every awful job no one else wanted.
It took me forever to climb out of that hole. ”
Her honesty softens something inside me. “That must have been hard.”
“It was,” she admits. “Which is why I’m telling you—you have to be direct here. Otherwise, you’ll waste months, the way I did.”
As I nod, an idea stirs. “I have a friend back home who oversees marketing for a wine growers’ consortium. If you’d be interested, I could connect you.”
Claire’s eyes light up, her earlier vulnerability flickering into hope. “Really? That would be amazing.”
We finish lunch and wander outside. She shows me her favorite walking path, vines stretching along either side. Sunlight filters through leaves, flickering over her hair, and a warm breeze carries the sweet tang of ripening grapes.
“Are you dating anyone back home?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I hesitate. “I’m…not sure. There’s Kingston. He tormented me growing up and always treated me like a little sister. But lately we’ve grown closer, and something seemed to shift just before I left.” My cheeks warm. Before she can press for more, I add, “What about you?”
She laughs, kicking a stone down the path. “Plenty of men here. Many more than women. When I need an itch scratched, there’s always someone. But no one’s here for long. So there’s nothing serious.”
Her ease makes me envy her, just a little.
As we loop back toward Chateau, Claire asks, “Why are you doing hand work here?”
“Because that’s what Sebastian gives me.”
She snorts. “Then it’s time you tell Sebbie you want more. If you don’t, he’ll keep you at the bottom rung until you leave.”
“Be direct? I thought I was paying my dues. I assume he understands why I’m actually here.”
She shrugs. “Absolutely you need to be direct. Otherwise, you’ll waste three months scrubbing floors.”
I laugh weakly, nerves twisting. “I have my daily check-in with him after lunch. Usually, he just sends me back to the cellars. Maybe today I can change that.”
“Good. Tell him.”
I nod, and her confidence carries me into the cellar when I return to work, though Sebastian is running late.
The longer I wait, the tighter my stomach knots.
I wander between the gleaming vats, running my hands along the cool steel, rehearsing what I might say.
Then the digital readouts catch my attention—sugar content, pH, blends I’ve never considered.
I snap a photo and text Tarryn.
Me: Ever tried this combo?
Her reply pings back.
Tarryn: I could with Declan’s help. He says it’s tricky but worth a try.
We volley a couple more messages until she drops news so big I almost fumble my phone.
Tarryn: Appleton Vineyard just sold to the new hospital administrator. He doesn’t want to farm it. We can rent the land.
I do the math quickly and type out my findings. Forty acres. That’s a hundred tons of grapes. Seven thousand more cases of wine.
Her reply is a string of exclamation points. My heart swells. We’re celebrating together, even an ocean apart.
The scuffing of his boots lifts my attention, and Sebastian strides up, perfectly pressed, perfectly late.
“Sorry,” he says, adjusting his cufflinks and gesturing toward his office. “Shall we begin?”
I slip my phone into my pocket, Claire’s words echoing in my head. “Be direct.”
“Actually,” I say as I follow. “I need to talk about my role here.”
He pauses mid-step, one brow arched. “Your role?” His tone is light, almost amused, but there’s an edge beneath it.
“Yes.” I fold my hands in front of me as I sit. “I came here for an assistant vintner exchange. To learn how you run things, to understand decisions about fermentation, blending, production. So far, all I’ve been doing is pulling hoses and scrubbing.”
Sebastian exhales softly, like I’ve offered a well-worn complaint. “Everyone starts with the basics, Elise. You can’t expect to understand wine without getting your hands dirty.”
Heat climbs my neck, but I hold steady. “I grew up on a vineyard. I know the basics. I didn’t travel all this way just to repeat work I mastered when I was twelve.”
His gaze sharpens, a hint of challenge there. “Mastered? That’s a strong word. Even the best vintners return to the floor from time to time.”
“I know that,” I say quickly, my voice tightening. “But I’m here for a short time. If all I do is grunt work, this exchange is wasted. I want to contribute like your assistant vintner would, or else I’ll be better off back in Paradise, working side by side with my father and the Paradise family.”
For a long moment, he studies me. It seems his silence is deliberate, drawing out every second, as if he’s measuring whether I’ll squirm.
Finally, he stands and circles back out to one of the vats, trailing his hand along the steel. “If you want to convince me you deserve more, tell me this.” He nods at the digital readout. “What do you make of that blend?”
My heart stutters, but I step closer. The numbers I looked at earlier flash back in my mind. “It’s unusual,” I tell him. “Not typical for Bordeaux. But handled carefully, it could add depth. The trick would be balancing tannins. Otherwise, it overpowers.”
A flicker of something—approval? amusement?—crosses his face before he smoothes it away. “Not a terrible answer.”
I lift my chin, refusing to shrink. “Then let me prove I can do more.”
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re bolder than I expected.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at me. “Very well. Tomorrow, you’ll shadow me during fermentation checks. We’ll see if your knowledge matches your confidence.”
Relief sweeps through me so quickly I almost sag in place. “Thank you.”
His smile is faint, razor-sharp. “Don’t thank me yet. You may regret asking for more.”
With a nod, he turns on his heel and disappears back into his office.
I still spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning in the cellar, but it feels different now.
By the time I climb back up to my room, exhaustion weighs heavy, but there’s a flicker of pride burning beneath it.
I’ve carved out a chance at what I came for.
I flip open my laptop and type.
Kingston,
You won’t believe it. Today I pushed back.
Sebastian had me doing nothing but grunt work, and I told him if that was all I was here for, I’d rather go home.
There aren’t many women here working in the vines, and I was terrified, but he actually listened.
Tomorrow, I get to shadow him during fermentation checks.
It’s a small victory, but a victory all the same.
And I made a friend. Her name’s Claire, and she’s the first person who’s made me feel like I might have a place here. We had lunch and walked the vineyards on our break. It made the day better than I expected.
I scroll up to reread his earlier note about Renew Motion—the new joint venture, the travel it will demand.
I hope your upcoming travel doesn’t steal you away too much. Selfishly, I like knowing you’re close to Black Bear, even when I’m far away.
XOXO,
E
I hit send and collapse against the pillows, a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Today was a good day.