A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel by Françoise Bourdin Page A

the other side of the table, Dominique had to repress a sigh of relief. She was always scared that a fight might break out between her father and father-in-law.
    As always at Fonteyne, dinner was a slow and sumptuous affair. Aurélien was used to this protocol and it was important to him. In immutable fashion, day after day, people drank their aperitif in the main living room, and the family silverware was used every evening for dinner. No matter his mood or his preoccupations, Aurélien tried to put aside his worries when he sat down at the table. Mealtimes were just about the only moments he could devote to his sons when they were children and teens, and he made sure they were special. It was in this dining room that he’d seen them grow up and change, that he’d listened to them and observed them. It was here he’d best played the role of father.
    Again the storm raged in the distance, and Aurélien pricked up his ears. He looked Jules’s way, but was annoyed when noticing that his son was still gazing at Laurène.
    Damn it , he thought. It’s not as though this is the first time he’s seen her. She’s been right here under his nose for the past two years.
    But when he turned his attention to Laurène, he saw that she was listening to Robert, mouth agape.
    Life is filled with surprises, my sons , Aurélien thought with tenderness.
    The sun was just rising. Fonteyne’s roofs were slowly emerging from darkness. Jules put out his cigarette and stuck the butt in his pocket. He’d had a bad night and wound up getting dressed well before dawn. He had his first cup of coffee standing in the kitchen, alone, and then he stepped out, his dog at his heels. Walking around the vineyards always made him feel better, and he knew the landscape well enough to walk in darkness. Back at the house, he sat on the terrace’s steps to smoke.
    He got up to check the thermometer on the terrace and whistled between his teeth, surprised at the high temperature. The light in Aurélien’s office came on. Jules headed there.
    “You’re up early this morning,” he said, once inside.
    He sat on the arm of a chair, lit another cigarette.
    “Don’t smoke around me before breakfast,” Aurélien muttered. “Besides, it’s so hot already …”
    Jules put out his Gitane without a word.
    “You’ve gone out already?” Aurélien asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Any damage from yesterday’s rain?”
    “None.”
    Jules slid into the chair and crossed his long legs. They heard Fernande making her way across the hallway and, before she had time to knock on the door, Aurélien shouted for her to come in. She set a heavy tray on the end of the desk, nodded at the two men, and went back out.
    “Everybody’s an early bird this morning,” Aurélien grumbled.
    Jules knew that his father’s foul mood came from worrying about the weather. He got up to pour coffee into the two mugs and drank his standing in front of the French doors, his back to his father. For a moment he examined the color of the sky. It was as though dawn was being indecisive, troubled. Jules saw Alexandre coming out of the Little House, heading their way. He frowned at the idea of his brother going to that meeting in Bordeaux. He turned on his heels.
    “Aurélien, tell Alex that—”
    “I’ve already told him everything he needs to know,” Aurélien interrupted.
    Jules set his mug down.
    Alexandre walked into the room, and Jules smiled at him and asked, “Coffee?”
    “No, thanks.”
    Alexandre had already had breakfast at home, with his wife. Breakfast was one of their rare moments of intimacy, and they relished it. Alexandre looked uncomfortable in his pale gray suit. He tugged at his tie.
    “Quite elegant …” Aurélien teased.
    Alexandre shot his father an angry look.
    “I’m taking the Mercedes,” he said. “Unless someone else needs it. …” He turned to the window.
    Jules understood that his brother had come to get some positive reinforcement, as he was obviously