Chapter 5
Chapter Five
After a hot bath and a dose of melatonin gummies, I slept long and hard—that kind of dead sleep where you don’t even dream. I woke to golden sunlight tickling my face, signaling the dawn of a bright new day.
I rolled over sleepily and checked the time. 7 a.m. I’d managed ten hours of straight sleep and got myself back on the right time zone. Well done, me! I was taking the wins where I could.
I felt like a brand new woman as I got up and pulled on some running clothes. First, coffee, then a little fresh air and exercise before I had to face what was surely going to be a very strange day.
The kitchen was empty, but a fresh carafe of coffee and some croissants were on the table. A little note read, Bonjour ! Please help yourself.
With a jolt of coffee in my system, I stepped out into the brisk morning.
It promised to be another warm day, but for now, a crisp breeze rustled through the vines and trees, carrying with it the earthy scent of sun-warmed soil and ripening fruit. Dew drops lingered on the vines, making them sparkle like thousands of tiny diamonds. Everything was so quiet here, so peaceful. It was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the Bay Area, where the constant din demanded so much of my attention that I'd forgotten how to listen to my own thoughts.
Although I’d come out here to run, I now felt the pull to just slowly stroll, taking in every detail. I meandered down the rows of vines, their vibrant green leaves cool and smooth beneath my fingertips. Clusters of grapes hung heavy on the vines, their skins just beginning to blush with deep purple hues as they basked in the golden sunlight. I paused, tilting my face skyward and closing my eyes, allowing the morning sun to seep into my bones.
A fleeting image danced behind my closed lids—a small girl with pigtails, laughing as she darted between the vines. Was it a genuine memory or merely a figment of my imagination, pieced together from romanticized notions of a countryside childhood? I couldn't be certain, but there was an undeniable familiarity to this place, as if some part of me had always belonged here among the sun-dappled rows.
Opening my eyes, I gazed at the sprawling chateau that dominated the landscape. Its weathered stone walls and faded shutters spoke of faded grandeur, a beauty waiting to be restored. As I contemplated the enormous task ahead, a mix of excitement and trepidation swelled inside me.
A low buzzing sound caught my attention, stopping me in my tracks. I looked around for the source of the odd sound as I moved through the vines. The angry buzz quickly grew to a roar. Before I could process what was happening, the surrounding air exploded into a frenzy of black and yellow.
Bees. Hundreds of them.
"Oh, merde!" I yelped as panic set in. I swatted wildly at the air, my heart pounding in my chest as I spun around and started sprinting back the way I'd come.
I darted through the maze of orderly vines and startled workers just arriving for the day’s work. I zigzagged through, narrowly avoiding a man pushing a wheelbarrow full of grapes.
" Pardon! Excusez-moi !" I shouted as I fled for my life.
That's when I saw salvation in the form of a shimmering pond in the distance. Without a second thought, I made a beeline—pun not intended—straight for it.
I hit the water with a spectacular splash, sinking beneath the surface. Opening my eyes underwater, I found myself surrounded by a murky green world. Small fish darted away, no doubt as surprised by my dramatic entrance as I was by this turn of events.
I kicked upward, breaking the surface with a gasp. My clothes clung to me like a second skin, and I could feel algae tangled in my hair. As I trod water, spitting out pond scum, I heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.
I turned, blinking water from my eyes, to see a man standing at the edge of the pond.
" ?a…va ?” he asked slowly and uncertainly
Treading water with one arm, I blocked the sun with my other hand, squinting to bring him into focus.
He was lean and muscular with tousled dark hair. His expression was a mix of amusement and annoyance, one dark eyebrow raised as he regarded me.
“Um. Hi. Bonjour ,” I said, out of breath.
“Are you ok?” He asked, switching to English.
“Um. I think so. Are the bees gone?”
He glanced to the side as if this might be a prank. “Bees?”
“Bees. There were, like, maybe a thousand, and I’m pretty sure they wanted to kill me.”
He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, Oui . I see no one warned you of the murderous bees we have trained to take out American invaders.”
“Who says I’m American?”
He raised an eyebrow as if to say, that is most definitely the dumbest question I’ve heard this year.
“Ok, yes, I’m American. Very funny.”
He crouched and extended his hand. “You might want to get out of there. The fish bite.”
“Eww,” I said, scrambling to get to the side.
I attempted to make a graceful exit from the pond, but the universe had other plans. My foot slipped on the muddy bottom, and I fell backward with an undignified yelp, disappearing beneath the surface once more.
When I resurfaced, spluttering, he was still holding out a hand. I hesitated for a moment, my pride stinging, before accepting his help. His grip was strong and calloused as he pulled me from the water.
I glanced down at the sludge and grime covering me. He reached over and plucked something from my hair.
“ Merci ,” I muttered.
“If you want to swim, I can recommend better places,” he said dryly.
My cheeks burned. “Um. Yeah, it’s not what it looks like.”
“ Oui , I know. The bees.”
“Right. The bees.”
" Je suis Remi,” he said. “You are?"
I nervously pushed my wet hair back. “Oh, sorry. Elodie.” I extended my hand and met his eyes. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him up close. Piercing blue eyes that were jarring against his olive complexion. A jawline that could cut glass.
“And who are you exactly?” I asked.
He looked at me as though he was considering how much information to share.
“I have the vineyard adjacent to here. I’m the winemaker.”
“Oh!” I said, too excitedly. “A neighbor.”
“And you are exactly?” His words were drawn out, incredulous.
I smoothed out my shirt as if it would do anything to improve my current state.
“I…Pierre is my…or was…my grandfather.”
Remi’s face was completely unreadable for a few beats, to the point where I thought maybe I didn’t actually say anything out loud.
“Right,” he said disbelievingly. “Pierre had an American granddaughter.” It might have been my imagination, but I swear I detected incredulity in his tone.
“He did. I just found out myself, actually. I—it’s a long story.” A story I wasn’t inclined to share with a stranger in a vineyard—no matter how sexy that stranger might be.
He nodded slowly. “Interesting. Well, I know Americans are known for their... unique exploration techniques, but why are you running from bees on Estate Descoteaux?”
I nervously yanked on my shirt. “I was just exploring the property when I ran into this giant bee’s nest—is it a nest?”
“Hive.”
“Right. Hive. I ran into this beehive, and there were just swarms of them, and they started chasing me, and the only thing I could think to do was jump in the water.” I shrugged.
He stared at me, deadpan. “Only an American would manage to find the one beehive on the a five-hundred-acre estate."
I bristled at his tone. “Know a lot of Americans, then?”
His mouth turned up slightly at the corner, but he said nothing.
“So you are staying at Pierre’s then?” Remi asked.
“I am. Here for some—to wrap up some estate stuff.”
Remi stared at me almost suspiciously.
“And what were you doing here?” I asked, turning the scrutiny around.
“I was coming to check on the harvest.” I raised my brow. “I assisted Pierre with some of the vineyard operations. He had difficulty these last few years.”
A small pang of grief bloomed in my chest. How I wished I could have come back sooner. “That’s—that’s really nice of you.”
He offered a tight smile.
“Um, well, I should probably get back to the house and change. I’m not sure murky fish water is a perfume I’d like to start rocking.”
He bobbed his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it becomes you.”
I glared. Were all Frenchmen so snarky?
“Well, it was nice to meet you. Remi.” His name felt smooth on my tongue.
“You’ll have to talk to Colette about putting up a Beware of Bees sign in English,” he said.
“Why stop at English? I’m thinking all the languages of the world. Cover all the bases.”
A flicker of something—was that actually amusement?—passed over Remi's face.
I turned and started toward the house. I spared a quick glance behind me. He stayed in place, watching me with a slightly sardonic expression. I turned back and ran up the hill to the house.