Chapter 9
Icicles hanging from the roof glittered in the bright sunlight. A steady drip of melting ice pattered like rain. Claire slipped between the drops, entered the hotel, and walked straight to the bar.
A broad-backed woman wearing a white blouse with puffy sleeves, a dirndl skirt, and embroidered apron stood at the bar drying glasses. “Bonjour Madame Didier.” Her phrase sounded like a robin’s song.
“Bonjour, Madame. You not only attend the front desk and arrange taxis but also tend bar?”
“I do everything! My husband and I own the place.” She laughed as she dragged her bar rag across her forehead. “What will you take?”
Claire pulled out a stool and sat at the blond-wood bar facing shelves of earthenware pitchers. “Is it too early for a glass of wine?”
“Not in Alsace.” The woman picked up one of the smallest pitchers. “Un petit pichet?”
Removing her coat, Claire nodded.
“Red or white?”
Claire put up her hand. “Do you have any Soltner wines?”
The woman cocked her eyebrow. “What do you know of Chateau Soltner?”
Her response was rather challenging, but this woman spoke English, and if Claire wanted information, she’d have to give it. “I only know my husband frequented the cave, and I believe he bought their wines for distribution in America.”
“I know your husband well.” She extended her hand. “I am Justine.”
Claire shook her hand. “Claire.”
Justine nodded slowly. “Many evenings, your husband sat right where you are sitting now and told me of his tastings at all the vineyards. Is he tasting at a vineyard now? We’ve missed him over the past year.”
Heat rose into Claire’s face, and she knew she was blushing with shame. She ought to tell this woman, but not before she told Sophie. “He’s traveling.”
Justine’s grip on the pitcher tightened. “I’m glad you finally joined him. He often spoke of you and promised one day you’d come along.”
A tingling ran down Claire’s back, and she leaned into the chair hoping to dull it. This woman was a touch judgmental. “David must have told you I traveled to China and India for business. The last thing I wanted to do for vacation was to get on another plane.”
She tsked. “For a woman who was married in Riquewihr and spent her honeymoon in this very hotel, you are not very…romantique.”
Definitely judgmental. How much had David told this woman? Had he spoken of his son? Regardless of the pain of that truth, she needed to learn it. “I guess not. Did…does David like Soltner wines?”
“Madame, everyone loves Soltner wines.” She pulled a bottle from the refrigerator below the bar.
“But…” she tilted her head and pushed out her lower lip.
“We shall see.” She poured white wine into the pitcher.
“This is a Muscat, very rare for this region, from Soltner. Your husband recommended it, and I now serve it here.”
Claire poured a bit of the same wine she’d had the night before into a glass and sipped, pretending she’d never tasted it. “Lively, aromatic, crisp. It’s great.”
“Of course. Your husband is a wine connoisseur as well as a buyer.” She laughed heartily. “I know your husband better than you.” She patted her belly. “He enjoyed it with choucroute. Would you like some for lunch?”
Claire’s appetite was nonexistent for pigs’ parts and sauerkraut, but she still needed to get information about Sophie. “Perhaps in a little while. Please tell me about the Soltner vintages.”
Madame Justine leaned back and crossed her arms before her ample bosom. “Everyone wonders if her brother has Sophie’s talents.”
“Sophie…is the vintner?”
“Was.”
“Why no longer?” A frisson of dread slid through Claire. Had the vineyard been sold? Was the angry man the new owner?
The lines around Madame Justine’s eyes deepened. “Your husband does not know?” Tears sat in her eyes.
A chill seized Claire. “What does David not know?”
Justine pushed out her lower lip. “Your husband is good friends with Sophie and her brother. You’d know that if you’d accompanied him once in all the years he came here.”
Who was this woman to chastise her? She wanted to toss the remainder of the rare wine at her imperious face, but Claire needed to find Sophie.
She swallowed back her words. This woman was right, she knew more about David than Claire did.
Nonetheless, she needed to know the truth, and she’d humiliate herself if she had to.
“You are correct. But I’m here now, and you’ll have to forgive me. Please, tell me what happened?”
Lifting and dropping her shoulders, Justine examined her hands, clasped in prayer. “Sophie died.” She blessed herself. “Nearly a year ago.”
The words shot through Claire, tearing open the wound David’s death had caused. The pain sharpened with the realization that she might never know the truth. “I’m so sorry.”
Madame shook her head. “Christmas Eve.” She hugged herself. “The grief her son must endure at the happiest time of the year.”
“She had a child?” Claire acted surprised. “It must be difficult for her husband also.”
Madame cocked her head. “Sophie was the single mother of the boy.” She picked up her towel and dried a glass. “And an extraordinary vintner.”
At least Justine didn’t know David was Luca’s father. Claire had to find Luca, without telling Madame Justine any more than she had to. “But what happened to her son?”
“Sophie’s brother, Gilbert, adopted him.
He treated the boy like a son from the very beginning.
” She opened a leaded-glass-paned door and placed the glass on a shelf.
“But the world awaits the tasting of the next vintage of Chateau Soltner. We must see if her brother can reproduce Sophie’s brilliance. ”
Was the man she’d angered Gilbert? “Sophie’s brother is now the vintner?”
Justine closed her eyes, inhaled, Claire guessed for patience, and nodded.
Claire’s shoulders relaxed as she deduced Gilbert was not Sophie’s husband.
But why had he accused her of wanting to take Luca to America?
Did he know David was Luca’s father? He must have.
Her nerves jangled, making her lips tingle.
She might never know how David became Luca’s father.
She pressed the glass against her lips to calm them and sipped the wine.
None of it mattered. The only thing that did matter was her promise to David’s spirit: she would deliver his medical records to the child’s adopted father—even if he sicced his dog on her—and make him promise to have the boy tested.
A couple entered the dining room, and Justine left the bar to greet them.
Could Claire convince Gilbert to accept David’s medical records?
She turned the wine glass on the cocktail napkin a quarter turn, and another turn, and another turn.
Would the man even listen to her? She’d already lied to him.
The truth was her only option. She could only hope he would respect it… and her.
She’d visit again the next morning. Getting Gilbert to listen to her would require more courage than facing his dog.