Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The sun was sinking to the horizon's cradle, transforming the sky into a watercolor canvas of pink and gold as I stepped onto the back terrace. The sweet scent of blooming lavender wafted on the evening breeze, mingling with the earthy aroma of the vineyard.
étienne, Régis, and Félicité were already gathered around a long table, chatting rapidly in French.
As I approached, their chatter abruptly ceased. Three pairs of eyes turned to me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. The word 'siblings' still felt foreign on my tongue, a concept as new and fragile as a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. For a moment, we all stood frozen, the silence between us as palpable as the warm evening air.
Félicité's smile broke the spell. "There you are! Isn't this the perfect evening?" Her voice was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness radiating from her brothers.
I sank into the chair offered to me, grateful for the glass of glistening rosé that appeared before me.
" Merci ," I murmured, lifting the glass to my lips.
étienne's eyebrow arched. "Oh, so you do speak French," he said, his tone cutting.
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I managed a weak smile. "You should hear my Russian," I quipped, only to be met with stony expressions.
Then Félicité let out a clipped laugh and waved her hand dismissively, the gesture graceful and practiced. "We hate to admit it, but no one speaks French anymore. No longer the language of the business class."
Régis's snort of derision was interrupted by Colette's arrival. She swept onto the terrace bearing a tray laden with an array of delicacies. The aroma of herbs and roasted vegetables filled the air, causing my stomach to rumble audibly.
"Colette, you have outdone yourself," Régis said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the feast.
Colette clicked her tongue, a fond smile tugging at her lips. "I bet none of you have had a proper meal in weeks."
"Ah, Colette, this is France!" étienne exclaimed, deftly spearing a golden-brown morsel of summer squash. "We eat like kings every day. But it's true, nothing can compare to your kitchen."
"You flatter like a Frenchman," Colette teased. "Now, eat, drink. Be merry and be kind to each other. You're family now." She tapped étienne's head. "Whether you like it or not."
As we began to eat, the tension seemed to ease slightly. The flavors danced on my tongue—sun-ripened tomatoes, creamy goat cheese, garden-fresh herbs.
"She is one incredibly talented woman," I said.
"There is no one like Colette," Félicité agreed. "Honestly, she has ruined food for all of us."
"And for my future wife," Régis said with a cheeky grin.
Félicité rolled her eyes. "You are a sexist pig."
"What? It is true! I don't know if anyone can cook like her," Régis said.
"You assume some little wife will want to cook for you. Grow up and take care of yourself," Félicité said.
"You really think he is capable of ever growing up?" étienne grinned and tossed a small potato at his little brother.
I grinned at their playful banter, the kind of love-hate cocktail only siblings possessed.
We fell into silence again as we polished off Colette's herbed-roasted chicken course. For a while, the only sounds were the gentle clink of cutlery against china and the soft symphony of nature—the rustling leaves, the distant call of a nightingale, the hum of crickets beginning their evening serenade.
Finally, étienne broke the peaceful silence with the decisive clatter of his fork against his plate. He dabbed at his mouth with a crisp linen napkin, his eyes locking onto mine with laser-like focus.
"So, Elodie," he said, his voice cutting through the tranquil atmosphere. "What are your plans, then?"
I swallowed a bite of chicken, suddenly aware of all eyes on me. "Plans?"
" Oui . With this place," étienne pressed, gesturing expansively. "Are you going to sell her and scurry home to California with a pocket full of Euros?"
I swallowed a lump. Well, at least he'd accepted the terms of the inheritance.
Félicité shot her brother a warning glare but remained silent. I felt my cheeks flush as I glanced around the table, buying time.
"I, uh, honestly, I have no idea," I admitted, my voice faltering slightly. "This has all happened so fast, and I'm not sure what to do."
étienne's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Naturally."
"Excuse me?" A flicker of indignation ignited within me.
"Well, naturally, you are considering the most profitable option. Americans do that first and foremost, am I right?" His words dripped with sarcasm.
I opened my mouth to argue but hesitated. There was a kernel of truth in his accusation that I couldn't entirely deny.
Félicité rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, étienne. Like you don't love swimming naked in your money."
I bit back a laugh, grateful for her intervention. Taking a deep breath, I decided to change course.
"What would you like me to do?" I asked, meeting étienne's gaze steadily.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. " Moi ?"
" Oui ," I said, not breaking eye contact. "You seem to have some strong opinions on the matter."
From the corner of my eye, I caught Régis and Félicité exchanging amused glances over the rims of their wine glasses. The ball was in étienne's court now, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.
“I just want what is best for the estate,” étienne said, raising his glass and then downing it.
The back door slid open, interrupting the tension. Colette hustled out with yet another tray.
“Now, who’s ready for dessert?”