Free A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel by Françoise Bourdin

There’s not going to be any problem.”
    Still in a foul mood, Aurélien shrugged and said, “If you say so.”
    Jules gave a heavy sigh and sat in front of his father.
    “What’s wrong, Aurélien?” he asked.
    “Everything is wrong!”
    He’d belted out his answer, and he continued on with the same tone, “Nobody cares about anything since the Parisians got here. It’s like you all caught the slacker virus from them or something. Look at the way Clothilde is sweeping the terrace right now. It’s like she’s about to fall asleep. And Dominique still isn’t back from running errands. As for Laurène, God knows where she is! Not behind her desk, that’s for sure. So tell me why the work around here is never done properly or on time? We’ve got enough personnel, that much I know.”
    Jules took the time to light a cigarette and, as Aurélien’s diatribe had come to an end, he said, “What the others are doing is no concern of mine. I’m sorry about the Jeep. That was my fault. I had it towed, and the mechanic is working on it. As for the cellar, everything is in order, as I told you. If you have something to say to me, don’t blame the entire world. … And if what’s making you nervous is the weather, there’s not a damn thing you or I can do about it.”
    “Don’t talk to me like that, Jules!”
    Aurélien slammed the top of his desk, but he wasn’t really angry. Jules was still staring at him, with his usual air of frankness.
    “You don’t look so good, you know. …” Jules said.
    Aurélien couldn’t repress a smile.
    “You ready to bury me, son?”
    “God forbid,” Jules muttered. “Not before the harvest.”
    Aurélien sat back in his chair, smiling at his son’s wisecrack.
    “Listen, since we’re on that topic, I want you to call the notary. I want him to come over as soon as possible. Tell him it’s important.”
    Jules jumped to his feet and nodded, not asking for an explanation. Aurélien watched him step out of the office, knowing the request had troubled him. He chuckled to himself. If he was certain of one thing, it was his affection for Jules.
    He only had to wait a few minutes before someone was knocking at the door. He knew who Jules would have talked to about his worries, and he called out, “Come in, Robert!”
    Dominique was driving fast, fed up after spending the entire morning running errands. Providing supplies for Fonteyne was a chore that weighed on her, but she couldn’t escape it. Aurélien’s tastes forced her to come up with elaborate meals twice a day.
    “Those Laverzacs don’t know how to eat simply,” she told Laurène, her eyes stuck to the road. “I swear, sometimes I wish I could just have a ham sandwich.”
    “With a glass of beer,” Laurène said.
    When they were together, they tended to act like school girls, railing against Aurélien’s tyranny and their labor at Fonteyne. But the fact of the matter was they wouldn’t have traded places with anyone, knowing they were part of a very enviable world.
    “Until the harvest is over, Aurélien is going to be impossible,” Dominique continued. “I don’t know how Jules puts up with him.”
    From the corner of her eye, she checked her sister’s reaction.
    “Jules …” Laurène said, broodingly. “He’s not always a piece of cake either. Those two go well together.”
    “Hmm,” Dominique said. “You’re not defending him anymore?”
    Dominique was smiling, waiting for a response, but Laurène remained silent. What could she have said? She was so confused about things. For the past two years, she’d looked at Jules with such trepidation and desire, wanting so much for him to pay attention to her that she was now accustomed—almost resigned—to the sort of indifference he showed her. In her mind, she’d come up with all kinds of schemes to make him come out of his shell but never actually did anything about it. She’d waited, paralyzed with shyness, not daring to make a move or allude to