Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I wiped my sweaty palms on my apron for the hundredth time, my eyes darting between the oven timer and the front door. The kitchen was a whirlwind of delicious aromas and barely contained panic.
"Colette, are you sure we have enough wine?" I asked, my voice pitched higher than usual. "Maybe I should open another bottle. Or three."
Colette, bless her, merely chuckled as she stirred something heavenly smelling on the stove. "Mademoiselle, we have enough wine to drown all of Bordeaux. Relax, s'il vous pla?t ."
I nodded, not at all relaxed, and busied myself rearranging the cheese platter for the fifth time. "I just need everything to be perfect. They already think I'm some clueless American. I have to prove I belong here."
“You have nothing to prove. Just be yourself," Colette advised sagely. "That is more than enough."
I snorted, picturing étienne's face if I truly let my guard down. "Right. Because nothing says 'capable estate manager' like a woman who nearly drowned herself running from bees."
“Bees?” Colette’s face scrunched up.
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
The sound of the front door opening echoed, and my heart leaped into my throat. Showtime.
After a heart-to-heart with Félicité over one too many bottles of wine, I had come to the conclusion that I was going to have to work a lot harder to win over my brothers. They needed to see me as one of them—someone they wanted to defend, not fight. And nothing brought people together more than good food and wine.
I rushed to the entryway to find all three hanging their coats and getting situated. They had all three gone back home to Marseille for a few days but reluctantly accepted my dinner party invitation.
“Bonsoir!” I chirped.
étienne's eyes swept over me, no doubt cataloging every flaw. Shake it off, Elodie. You got this.
“Thanks for coming. Wine?”
They all looked at me curiously. “Look who’s mistress of the house now,” Régis said.
“Just practicing my hostess skills. Do you know what a dream it is to host a dinner party in a house like this?”
étienne's lip curled slightly. "I suppose that depends on whether you've chosen something drinkable or not."
I playfully swatted his arm, refusing to give in. “Oh, you. Always the joker."
étienne eyed my hand suspiciously and gently pushed it away.
"We’ll take whatever’s chilled, thank you,” Félicité said. She flashed me a wink.
I was about to respond when the doorbell rang . My pulse quickened as I opened it to reveal Remi, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.
"Bonsoir," he said, his voice low and rich as aged cognac. "I hope I'm not late."
“A Frenchman is never late!” Régis said with melodrama. “Remi. Good to see you.”
Remi nodded toward Régis. He leaned in to kiss Félicité’s cheek, then mine.
“What’s the occasion?” Remi asked.
I tried to stay calm. “Oh, nothing really. Just thought it would be nice to all get together. Talk about the house. Enjoy the lingering warm nights.”
Remi turned to étienne. “Eti.”
“Remi.”
I felt the tension in the room ratchet up a notch. étienne's eyes narrowed, and even laid-back Régis seemed to straighten up a bit. For two men who worked together, they did not seem to get along. Clearly, Remi's presence was going to add an interesting dynamic to this little family gathering.
I gestured toward the back terrace. “Come on. Colette has already filled the table with food. I’m going to need my Thanksgiving pants.”
They all turned and stared at me, quite confused.
I laughed nervously. “You know, when you eat so much at Thanksgiving, you need pants with elastic—” I let the words trail off, and they all just continued to stare. “Never mind. American thing. Come on.”
Sometimes I should really stop talking.
“It looks beautiful out here,” Félicité said as we settled around the outside table. I looked up to admire the recently strung fairy lights and the new plants lining the stone wall.
“ Merci . I’ve been working on sprucing things up a bit.”
“ Oui , Félicité said the contractor was here,” étienne said dryly. He reached for the open wine bottle and filled his glass.
I swallowed. Keep it cool, Elodie. “Yes. We got started on initial evaluations. Seeing where we need to start.”
“And?” étienne said. He was staring at me so hard I thought my flesh might peel.
I reached for my own glass and nervously lifted it to my lips. But instead of taking a long, calming sip, I dropped the glass, sending perfectly good rosé splattering across the tablecloth.
“Merde!” I yelped, scrambling to mop it up. étienne did not disappoint with his withering, judgmental stare.
“Will you stop acting like a Spanish Inquisitor?” Félicité snapped.
“I didn’t do anything,” étienne said, sipping his own wine.
I breathed in and out slowly. This dinner was supposed to bring us together, not drive us further apart. Try again, Elodie.
“Thankfully, the house is in really good condition, foundationally. Some piping needs to be replaced. A few patches here and there. But most of the work is aesthetic.”
“And why do you think you know what you’re talking about?” étienne said.
His words hit me like a slap.
“I—” I started to form a defense, but he had this way of razing my defenses to dust.
"You're being unfair, étienne," Remi said, his tone calm but firm. "She's new to all of this, yes, but so what? You wouldn’t know any better. Your grandfather gave her the estate for a reason. Maybe you should respect that decision instead of tearing her down."
The table fell silent. étienne looked like he'd been force-fed a lemon, while Félicité and Régis wore matching expressions of surprise. As for me, I was too stunned to speak. I spared Remi a glance, but he was staring straight into étienne.
Finally, he turned to me, offering a small, reassuring nod. "At least she's willing to try. None of you were ever here to help Pierre while he was still here.”
In that moment, something inside me shifted. I took a deep breath, abandoning what felt like a ridiculous charade.
"Look," I said, meeting each of their eyes in turn, "I don't know everything about wine or vineyards, and I probably never will. But I do care about this place, and I want to make things right. I'm not here to take anything from you—I’m here to figure out what this place means to me and to all of us."
The tension in the room seemed to deflate slightly. Félicité’s face softened, and she gave me a small nod. Régis actually smiled, too, looking almost relieved. Even étienne, though still clearly skeptical, seemed to dial back his hostility a notch.
As the conversation shifted to less contentious topics, I caught Remi's eye across the table. He winked—a subtle gesture that warmed my insides.
“What do you think of this red?” Remi asked, indicating the newly poured wine.
I sipped and made a show of savoring it. “It’s refreshing for a red. Almost notes of—does anyone else taste asparagus?”
I looked up, and for a moment Remi’s face looked like he was horrified. Then he burst into laughter.
"That's... unique."
I collapsed into laughter too, partly from embarrassment, partly from relief. "What can I say? I'm a trendsetter."
***
As the evening wound down, I found myself on the porch with Remi, the cool night air a balm to my frazzled nerves.
"Thank you," I said softly. "For what you said in there. You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged, the movement casual but somehow elegant. "Don't get used to it," he replied, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
“I’m trying to so hard with them, but—“
“Then don’t,” Remi said.
I turned toward him. “What?”
He shrugged. “Don’t try so hard. Just do your thing. Be yourself. They will warm to you, or they won’t, but you can’t force it.”
Be myself. Novel thought.
"It’s such a nice night. How about we go for a walk?" Remi asked.
I blinked, surprised. Mr. Broody Winemaker wanted to spend more time with me?
"I'd like that," I replied, trying not to sound too eager. "It looks like a beautiful night."
“I just said that.”
I blushed hard, heat flooding my body. "Right. I know." Head down, I pointed ahead. "Onward."
We slipped out through the back door into the balmy embrace of a perfect autumn evening. The air was still, heavy with the perfume of ripening grapes and sun-baked earth. In the distance, crickets chirped their nightly symphony.
"It's perfect out," I murmured, inhaling deeply. "The temperature, the silence, even the way it smells."
Remi nodded, his usually stern features softening in the moonlight. "It's why I came back to this area. There was nothing better than a summer night here."
We ambled along the dusty path between the rows of vines, our footsteps crunching softly in the gravel. The sweet, earthy scent of fermentation mingled with the crisp night air, filling my lungs with the essence of the vineyard.
"You're handling all of this very well," Remi said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.
I let out a rueful chuckle. "I'm glad it seems that way. I'm kind of a mess on the inside."
“I appreciate the way you don’t let them get to you.”
I sighed. “I’m trying. Félicité is wonderful. Régis—I think I’m growing on him. But étienne is a tough one.”
“Give him time. Have you given any thought to the winery? Will you commission a new winemaker?”
I stopped walking. “Admittedly, not really. I've been so preoccupied with fixing up the house, I sort of forgot about that minor detail."
Remi's smile turned knowing. "I thought as much." He paused, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that was oddly endearing. "I could help find someone for you."
I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "You would do that?"
He shrugged, the casualness of the gesture at odds with the offer's magnitude. "I know everyone in this area. There is probably a great apprentice ready to step up. Or someone looking to make a change."
"Why would you want to help me?" I asked, suspicion warring with gratitude.
Remi laughed. "You really aren't used to people helping each other, are you? If it makes you feel more comfortable, think of it as me helping the grapes. Or simply that I can't let a perfectly good vineyard go to waste. And I have a feeling if I leave you in charge, it's going to go to waste."
"You're probably not wrong about that," I admitted, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "Okay, I think I might just take you up on that. Before you change your mind."
As we continued our stroll, Remi's voice took on a wistful tone. "I have a fondness for this place, I have to admit. It's not my own, of course. But I had a lot of good days here with Pierre. It was always nice to come here and get away from the business side of things. Winemaking—it’s an art at its core. And it's a labor of love. But if you want to stay afloat, you do have to make it about business at some point. But when I came here to help Pierre, I got to just be that artist again. Just working with my hands, tinkering with the chemistry and all. Doing it for the love. At the end of the day, it wasn't me who had to worry about keeping this place profitable or not."
"Which he didn't, did he?" I asked, thinking of the estate's somewhat dilapidated state.
Remi chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very vines around us. "I'm not really privy to all the ins and outs of Pierre 's finances. But I don't think the vineyards were a cash cow for him. I couldn't tell you the state of the financial affairs. That's something you're going to have to figure out on your own, unfortunately. Or talk to étienne. He might know.”
"He was really lucky to have you," I said softly, feeling a pang of envy for the relationship they'd shared. "The more I get to know the family dynamics here, the more I realize that it didn't seem like he was very close to anyone else. Maybe not even my father."
Remi sighed heavily. “I don't know everything, of course. I'm definitely an outsider. But I do know Pierre had a strained relationship with his family. It was kind of sad. I don't really know everything that transpired between him and your father, but they definitely had their differences in opinion. And that tends to trickle down to kids. I think for a long time, the kids' mother kept him away. From what I understand, Céline never really got on with Pierre. In her defense, he could be tough. He was a good man, but he could be challenging. He wasn't always easy to please, and he had really high expectations of people. And when you didn't align with the way he felt about things, well, it didn't always go well."
"People are complicated," I mused, thinking of my own past, my own lack of alignment in so many places. "I wish I could've known him." We walked for a few more moments in contemplative silence before another question bubbled up. "Did you know my grandmother?"
Remi shook his head, his expression softening. "No, sadly, she died fairly young. I think, in a lot of ways, that changed Pierre. He always talked about her with fondness but never with a lot of great detail. I think he missed her terribly. He never remarried or even entertained other women, as far as I know."
A wave of sadness washed over me as I nodded, feeling the weight of all the pieces of my past that I would never fully understand. But being here, I felt like I could at least weave together a tapestry from loose threads, creating a narrative that made some sense, something I could tangibly hold on to.
"Colette could probably tell you more," Remi added. "She's been around since she was a girl. She knew your grandmother well.”
"It seems like Colette knows everything and everyone.”
Remi chuckled. “She is the keeper of all the secrets, that's true. She's not quick to betray Pierre, though. But something tells me she holds you in special regard."
"What makes you say that? We barely know each other," I asked.
“There’s something about the way she looks at you. It's with this... admiration. I can't quite put my finger on it. But to be honest, it's the way that she does not look at the other three. I think she's truly happy that you are here."
As we meandered through the moonlit rows of vines, I found myself wanting to know more about this enigmatic man beside me.
"Tell me more about you," I said.
Remi's lips quirked into a smirk. "Why?"
I laughed, the sound carrying through the still night air. "Because that's what people do when they're getting to know each other. They tell each other things."
"Is that what we're doing? Getting to know each other?" His tone was teasing, but I sensed a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's what normal people do."
"You haven't told me anything about you," Remi countered, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Not true!" I protested. "You have a front-row seat to my family drama."
"Fine," he conceded with a chuckle. "What do you want to know?"
"Where are you from?"
"Here."
"Always?"
"Always."
I shot him a mock glare, and he stifled a laugh. "Yes, I have lived here on and off my entire life. I did leave for university for a time. But I came back."
"Your family? Are they still here?" I prodded gently.
A shadow flickered across his face, so brief I almost missed it. "My father is. He still lives in the house I grew up in. My mom left a while back."
"Oh. I see." I felt a pang of sympathy, recognizing the complexity hidden in those simple words.
"It's not so tragic," Remi said, his tone light but not quite reaching his eyes. "Just the way families go sometimes."
"Are you close with them?"
He shrugged, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as his go-to when discussing difficult topics. "We are fine. My father is a bit—what is the word?—bitter. He struggles with innovation and change, as many of us French do."
"I think a lot of people everywhere do," I offered. "We seem to fight progress tooth and nail back home, too."
Remi nodded, his expression thoughtful. "This area has changed a lot in the last few decades. From just sleepy country towns that no one had ever heard of to booming tourist destinations listed in international guidebooks.”
"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, genuinely curious about his perspective.
" Oui and non ,” he said, his accent thickening slightly. "Tourism has, of course, brought recognition to our wines. Made us more profitable. But you always pay a price for progress and growth, no? It drives up prices for locals. It causes more wear and tear on our ancient sites. Takes away perhaps some of the secret rustic charm we all cling to."
I found myself nodding along. "I understand that. That's kind of what happened in the California wine industry. All these sleepy little towns and warehouse tasting rooms have turned into super expensive tourist traps. The little towns don't have local cafés anymore, just extremely overpriced high-end restaurants. A lot of the locals feel pushed out."
Remi looked at me with surprise, as if he hadn't expected me to understand his plight. The realization stung a little, but I pushed on.
"I guess that's why I started my business," I continued, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. "I wanted to bring recognition to locals who were working hard. Creating sustainable things, beautiful things."
"What is your business?" Remi asked, his interest piqued. "I wasn't aware you had one."
I felt a knot form in my stomach, heavy as a stone. "Oh, well, I did. I recently had to step away. For personal reasons." The words tumbled out, gaining momentum. "But it was a sustainable line of home goods and personal care products. I had a store, actually. In Berkeley. Where I was living, but we had to close it recently. It's really hard to keep brick-and-mortar stores around these days. Especially when you can get anything you want from China off Amazon for pennies on the dollar."
I had to stop talking as I felt tears welling up, emotions ready to explode like a volcano. Remi stopped walking and looked at me, genuine concern etched on his face.
"I'm very sorry," he said softly. "I know that must be really heartbreaking to lose something you clearly loved so much."
I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm getting so emotional. I guess a little too much wine at dinner."
Remi surprised me by resting his hand on my shoulder and stepping closer. The warmth of his touch was oddly comforting. "You don't have to apologize for showing emotion," he said gently. "It's okay to feel. We're not British aristocracy, are we?"
I laughed despite myself, the tension easing slightly. “That’s good because I have a terrible stiff upper lip. Although that would be a nice surprise to find out that I’m in the line of succession.”
"When you lose something, you can cry about it. You can grieve," Remi continued, his voice low and soothing. "Clearly, your business meant a lot to you. And I don't know what happened, but it doesn't matter. You've lost something you love."
His understanding broke something loose inside me and I choked out a sob. "Thank you. That means a lot. I worked really hard to build it, so it wasn't just like losing a job, you know? Sure, losing a job is stressful. But this was... this was my dream." I shook my head, trying to clear the melancholy. "But it's okay. We don't need to talk about all that right now. Tonight is too lovely for tears."
Remi looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but I didn't have it in me to keep going. Instead, I started moving again, running my hands along the leaves of the vines. Being out here was like a soothing balm to my soul, the first time in a while that the pain felt a little less sharp.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Remi asked suddenly, breaking the contemplative silence.
"I have no idea," I said with a sigh. "I guess just working on the house. There are so many things to do. I don't even know where to start."
Remi nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Well then, what I think you need is a little break. You have been here for a couple of weeks now, and I bet you’ve seen nothing of Provence. There's a festival just up the road in a little village. Why don't you come with me?"
My heart skipped a beat. Was he asking me out? No, I reasoned, he's just being friendly. Extending some hospitality to a stranger in a strange land.
"Festival?" I managed, trying to keep my voice casual. "Sounds nice."
"Yes, it's one of the best ones around," Remi said, his enthusiasm infectious. "I'll pick you up at ten?”
Before I could even process what I was agreeing to, I heard myself say, "Okay, sure."
He smiled, looking oddly satisfied. "Mmm. Good. It will be fun." He glanced back toward the house. "I guess we should get back. People will be wondering where we are."
As we turned to head back, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation for tomorrow. Maybe this strange new life in France held more possibilities than I'd imagined.