A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel by Françoise Bourdin Page B

petrified about the negotiation he’d have to undertake later on today. Jules gave him a sympathetic smile, but found nothing to say.
    As soon as Alexandre left the office, Aurélien let out a long sigh.
    “Gee,” he said, “he looked terrified. And look at the time. He really should’ve left last night. … And that ridiculous getup of his. Old man Amel scares him that much?”
    Aurélien was drumming on the top of his desk, waiting for his son to add something.
    “Well,” Jules finally said, “you’re the one who decided to send him!”
    Aurélien frowned, taken aback by his son’s vehement tone.
    In a softer voice, Jules said, “Alex hates everything that’s business related. He can’t bring himself to see it as a game. It’s so much fun to make the buyers grind their teeth! But you do have to know them well. … How much instruction did you give Alex?”
    “Enough. I just want him to take care of things by himself for once. In theory, he knows just as much as I do.”
    Jules nodded without conviction.
    Still half-asleep, Pauline was yawning in the bathroom. She’d turned on the water but didn’t feel like getting in the shower yet. She examined the small bottles on the shelves.
    What kind of perfume is Laurène wearing? she thought. Oh yes, that. … It’s flowery, kind of tacky …
    She chuckled at her own cruelty and finally decided to jump into the shower. She had no sympathy for Laurène. She found her too young and too pretty. She finished showering, dressed quickly, and scampered down the steps.
    Entering Aurélien’s office, she said, “Six twenty-five and I’m ready!”
    Aurélien and Jules, both surprised, raised their heads together.
    “I’d forgotten about you,” Jules said with a smile.
    “I’m not surprised.”
    She grabbed one of the croissants on the tray and poured herself some coffee in Aurélien’s mug. The two men watched her, amused. There was something disarming about Pauline’s mix of cheerfulness and elegance.
    “All right,” Jules said, “let’s go.”
    He winked at his father and opened the door for Pauline. As they made their way to the garage, Jules grinned as he looked at the skimpy way his sister-in-law was dressed.
    As he turned on the Jeep’s engine, he said, “It’s going to storm later on today. You should’ve brought a jacket.”
    Pauline clapped her hands, a delighted look on her face.
    “I love storms! It’s going to cool us down.”
    Jules shook his head.
    “Rainfall at this time of year, Pauline, it’s … We’re really going to have to start at square one.”
    He decided to take his role of teacher seriously and began to talk to Pauline about his work. She listened attentively, truly interested. He parked the Jeep in order to show her the stony soil in which the vines thrived. She followed him around, tripping in her sneakers. As she cursed under her breath, he burst out laughing and said, “Don’t say anything bad about our stones. They’re our income!”
    He pointed at the white and bluish quartz.
    “They store heat from the sun and feed it to the vines,” he explained.
    “Louis-Marie said something about cabernet. That’s a variety of grapes, right?”
    “You’re reciting this like it was a lesson,” Jules teased. “Yes, cabernet is a variety of grapes in this region. There are others. Merlot, which ripens faster, a bit of malbec toward Soussans, and some verdot, too. …”
    Jules looked at Pauline and said, “It’s like I’m speaking Chinese, right?”
    “Don’t you worry about me,” she said. “I’m a fast learner.”
    They smiled at each other, relaxed, almost friends. Pauline wasn’t trying to flirt with Jules, and she felt very comfortable with him.
    “The stuff about different types of grapes is hard to figure out,” Jules added. “We graft vines, we hire nurserymen … It’s a big, complicated ordeal.”
    They kept on walking and Jules, talkative as ever, told Pauline all about the history of the Médoc