Prelude to Heaven (26 page)

Alexandre took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to reopen the winery.”

Henri blinked. “The winery?”

“Yes. I need your assessment of the condition of the vines and the equipment and whether or not you think a harvest next autumn is possible.”

“Is that all?” Henri inquired in a joking tone to cover his surprise.

“No. I also have a great favor to ask of you. I want you to become a vintner again.”

Henri’s lips parted, but he couldn’t seem to speak. He stared at Alexandre, silent for what seemed like a century. “Let me see if I understand this,” he said slowly. “You want me to move my family back here again and supervise the winery for you?”

“No. This time, I want you to be a partner. I know you are a very successful wine merchant now, but I would like to have your help and expertise. You know wine as well as I do.”

“Better.”

“Quite possibly,” he agreed at once. “I wouldn't blame you if you refused. I know I have no right to ask you to do this after I closed the winery and sent everyone packing, including you. If you refuse—”

“I accept.”

“You do?” It was Alexandre's turn to be surprised. He'd expected a flat refusal. “Are you certain? Being a vintner is risky at best.”

“I've never been more certain of anything in my life,” Henri said, and then gave a sudden, loud whoop of delight. He jumped high in the air and spun around, a display that spoke more of sincerity than any words of assurance. His eyes shining, he grasped Alexandre by the arms. “I never wanted to be a wine merchant.
Making
wine, not selling it, is what I love. I have never wanted to do anything else.”

“I also know that I treated you quite badly after Anne-Marie died,” Alexandre replied. “I dismissed you from your position as head vintner. I—”

“Forget about that,” his brother interrupted. “I have. I was angry, yes, and I was hurt. But I forgave you ages ago. Besides, we're family. And you want us to make wine again.” He gave a jubilant laugh. “And you want to make me a partner? Good God, brother, that’s not a favor, that’s a wish come true!”

“What will Jeanette say?”

“She hates Marseilles and she loves it here. She always has. Her father was a vintner, too, remember. Making wine is in our blood, all of us.” He started down the path toward the winery. Alexandre did not move to follow, and Henri gestured impatiently. “Come on. If you want a harvest by next autumn, we’ve no time to dawdle. There’s much to do.”

“Wait. There's more to discuss. I've been down to the winery, and I know I'm going to need a great deal of money to make it run again. I don't have it.”

“I do. I'll provide the capital.”

“No.”

“But surely—”

“No. You may invest up to half, if you wish, but I will provide the rest. That is, if you can arrange for those exhibitions we were discussing a few weeks ago?”

“Well now,” Henri murmured wryly, “this is certainly a day for surprises.”

“Can you do it?”

“Of course. I receive invitations for you all the time. When I return to Marseilles, I shall begin making the necessary arrangements immediately. Now, I want to tour the winery.”

But they had barely taken half a dozen steps before Henri stopped. “What’s brought about this decision, if I may ask?”

Alexandre clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I just decided it was time to stop neglecting my responsibilities.”

“Hear, hear,” Henri said with feeling. “I heartily agree with you.”

“I thought you might.”

***

Henri and Jeanette left for Marseilles three days later as planned. Tess, firm in her decision, did not accompany them. As the days passed, she noticed that Alexandre spent a great deal of time painting, either in his studio or out in the countryside. That in itself was nothing unusual, but she sensed a definite change in him, an aura of energy and resolve about his work that she had never seen before. From the number of paintings he completed, she could only conclude that his artistic side was in a particularly inspired spurt of creativity.

When he wasn’t painting, he worked with Paul to make repairs to the château. The two men repaired fences, replaced flagstones, and cleaned outbuildings. One day, she found them rebuilding the walls around the courtyard with mortar. Alexandre had never taken much interest in such things before, and his sudden preoccupation with making these repairs was remarkable. Tess could not account for it.

One morning in December, after many days of rain, the weather was fine, and she decided to take Suzanne for a walk, but when she went to fetch the baby from the nursery, Leonie informed her that Suzanne was with Alexandre. He had, Leonie informed her, left the house a short time before, taking the baby with him for a walk down to the winery.

Tess was astonished. She knew Alexandre avoided the vineyards whenever possible, and whenever she had asked about the winery, he had always refused to discuss it. What was he up to?

Bewildered and curious, she walked down to the winery to join them, and when she arrived, she found the door to one of the buildings standing open. As she approached the doorway, she could hear Alexandre's voice.

“Now,
mon enfant
, this is the wine press. We use it to squeeze all the juice out of the grapes. When my father was young, the villagers would take off their shoes and stomp the grapes, but we don't do it that way anymore.”

He was talking to the baby. Tess bit her lip, smiling. When she took a peek around the door frame, she saw him standing beside a large machine, his back to her, Suzanne propped up in the crook of his arm. “But this wine press no longer functions,” he went on, pointing to the machine, “and if Henri and I are to make the best wine in the Midi, we must have a working press.”

He intended to make wine again? Tess stared at his back, stunned by this amazing turn of events. But his next words stunned her even more.

“It is very important that we make the best wine and that our winery regains its excellent reputation. I must ensure that you and your mother have a secure future. I have to take care of you two.”

So that was why he was doing all this work with Paul and why he was intending to make wine again. He wanted to take care of her and Suzanne. He was doing all this for them.

Happiness rose up within her, a surge of it so strong and fierce that it couldn’t be contained, and a sob escaped her lips.

He turned at the sound, and in his face she thought she could see all the same longing she felt, but she had to be sure it wasn’t her imagination. “You wanted us to leave.”

“It’s too late now.” He moved to stand before her. “You’ve lost your chance to go.”

“I never wanted that chance.”

He cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

“Suzanne and I will do our best to take care of you, too.”

He smiled at that. “You think I need taking care of?”

She turned to kiss his palm. “Definitely.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Do I get blackberry tarts?”

“Every summer,” she promised.

His hand slid away and he kissed her cheek. “And you won't put my paintbrushes away without telling me where?”

“I'll put them in the studio.”

He kissed her mouth, a slow soft kiss that robbed her of the ability to breathe, as his free arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. She came, closing her eyes and sliding her arms up around his neck, her heart singing with joy.
Yes
, she thought,
this is how love is supposed to be. Taking care of each other
.

Slowly, he pulled back, laughing softly, and when she opened her eyes, she knew why. Suzanne had pulled the queue from his hair and had stuffed a bit of the silk ribbon into her mouth.

Tess laughed with him, and the baby’s forehead puckered in a frown, as if she wasn’t certain what they found so amusing.

“Perhaps we should resume this moment when we are alone,” he suggested, smiling, and pulled back. “In the meantime, have Paul take you into the village today. I want you to buy some things.”

“What things?” Tess swallowed hard, her joy marred a bit at the prospect of going into town. “Why?”

He glanced down, fingering the lavender muslin dress she wore. “I’d like you to have dresses of your own.”

She’d like that, too, but she did not want to go into the village. On the other hand, she knew that if she and Alexandre were to have a future together, she couldn't hide in the château forever. If the British authorities wanted to find her, surely they would have done so by now. Perhaps they weren't searching for her any longer. Perhaps they never had been. “All right. I'll go.”

She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his for one last, quick kiss. Then she took Suzanne and went back up to the house, and hoped to heaven her days of hiding were over.

“This is a very fine silk, mademoiselle. It would make a lovely gown.” The proprietor of the draper’s shop unrolled the bolt of azure blue silk across the polished wooden counter for Tess’s inspection, one of only three silks in the small shop.

Tess fingered the delicate material, enjoying the fine texture, but after a moment, she shook her head. “It's lovely, but I've no use for it. What I need are serviceable poplins and wools.”

“Ah!” Madame Giraud set aside the silk and turned to the shelves behind her, pulling down several bolts of the requested fabrics.

Not wanting to be extravagant, she chose fabrics for three dresses, a pelisse, stays, stockings, gloves, and two straw bonnets, as well as trims and buttons. During the process, she noticed the other woman’s surreptitious, speculative glances, but she managed to dodge any questions with tactful, but vague replies. She knew the woman's questions were probably borne of curiosity and nothing more. She was a stranger in this small village, after all, and such curiosity was only natural.

When Madame Giraud inquired if she would like to be measured, she answered in the negative, explaining that she had a dressmaker of her own. Though she was sure Alexandre wouldn’t mind paying for the dressmaker’s skills, she preferred to make the clothes herself. It would give her an occupation, and she enjoyed sewing. Besides, though it didn’t seem as if anyone had come through this village looking for her, that could still happen, and the fewer visits she made to the village, the better.

In light of that, she decided it was best not to linger. She paid for her purchases and departed, leaving Paul to take them to the carriage while she crossed to the cobbler's shop across the street.

There, she was fitted for two pairs of half-boots and two pairs of slippers. Assured the shoes would be ready within the week, Tess returned to the carriage. As Paul drove her home, she leaned back in her seat with a sigh of relief. No one had recognized her, so clearly no one had come through Saint-Raphael with a likeness of her asking questions. She must be safe. She didn't dwell on the reasons why, she simply said a prayer of thanks.

***

While Tess was in the village with Paul, Alexandre was busy with an occupation of his own: packing Anne-Marie’s things. Jeanette had already gone through them, taking with her to Marseilles any items of sentimental value. She had volunteered to pack the remainder for donation, but though Alexandre was grateful for her offer, he did not accept it. This painful task was one he knew he had to do himself, and by the time he finished it, a dozen wooden crates he’d brought up from the winery had been filled and were now ready for Paul to take to the church in Saint-Raphael.

That task completed, he went to the kitchen where Leonie was preparing the evening meal and instructed her to clean both rooms of the suite, and to make up the bed in the master's chamber and move his things there.

Alexandre then returned upstairs to make certain nothing of Anne-Marie’s had been left behind, and the moment he entered the room, he realized he had indeed forgotten one thing. He crossed the room to where Anne-Marie's carved ivory jewel case sat on her dressing table, and he opened it.

It was empty, of course, for Jeanette had taken all of Anne-Marie’s jewels with her. Nonetheless, Alexandre paused, staring down into the case’s blue velvet interior for a long moment, remembering the laughing blue eyes of the girl he had loved for most of his life, wondering what he would say to her if he could.

“I’m sorry,
chérie
,” he said at last and closed the case, knowing he had just closed a chapter of his life as well and that it was time to begin a new one. He could only hope it was a happier one.

***

Tess set aside her dinner napkin with a contented sigh and cast a glance at Alexandre down the long length of the dining table. “Either you've spent your afternoon in the kitchen,” she teased, “or you've been giving Leonie cooking lessons.”

Alexandre looked up from his dessert of chestnut meringue. “I love
bouillabaisse
, but I decided we don’t have it
every
day,” he told her, keeping his voice low so that Leonie wouldn’t chance to overhear.