Page 22 of The Vines Between Us
Before I could respond, he'd already taken the seat, unbuttoning his jacket with practiced elegance.
"I understand you've inherited quite a challenge," he continued, voice pitched low as if sharing a confidence between colleagues. "Your grandfather's property has significant potential, but the rehabilitation costs would be... prohibitive for an individual."
"I'm managing," I replied.
Rousseau's smile never faltered. "Of course. You strike me as a capable man. But vineyard restoration isn't like corporate finance, is it? The timelines are dictated by nature, not spreadsheets."
I said nothing, letting the silence stretch. It was a negotiationtactic I'd used countless times in Paris—force the other party to fill the uncomfortable void. Rousseau recognized the game immediately; his eyes gleamed with appreciation.
"I'll be direct, Monsieur Moreau. VitaVine is prepared to make an immediate offer for Domaine Moreau. Full debt clearance, plus a fifteen percent premium. Clean slate, no complications."
"Not interested," I replied.
"You haven't heard the figure."
"I don't need to."
He leaned back, studying me. "Sentiment is admirable, but rarely profitable. Your grandfather's legacy is already fading with each passing day those vines remain untended."
"Then I'd better get back to tending them."
Rousseau chuckled, reaching into his jacket to produce a business card. He placed it on the table between us.
"The offer stands for thirty days. After that..." He shrugged elegantly. "Market conditions change. Debts accumulate. Equipment fails."
The threat was subtle but unmistakable.
"Is that what happened to Mathieu Lefèvre?" I asked. "Market conditions changed?"
Something cold flashed behind his eyes before the mask of cordiality returned. "Monsieur Lefèvre made a business decision that benefited all parties. As will others in the coming months."
He stood, rebuttoning his jacket. "Think about it, Alexandre. You're a businessman. You understand that sometimes the kindest thing we can do for something we love is to let it go to those with the resources to save it."
"I know exactly what Domaine Moreau needs," I replied, leaving his card untouched on the table. "And it isn't VitaVine."
His smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "We'll speak again soon."
The café remained silent as Rousseau departed, the bell's cheerful chime incongruous with the tension he left behind.Through the window, I watched him pause on the square, surveying the village once more before returning to his Bentley.
"Well," Madame Fontaine finally said, "that was illuminating."
Marcel shook his head. "Fifteen percent premium. That's three times what he offered Mathieu."
"They want your land badly," Alain added. "Must be something special about the Moreau terroir. Henri poured his heart and soul into it for a reason."
The bell chimed again, and I tensed until I saw it was Hugo entering, carrying a crate of produce. He stopped short, sensing the atmosphere.
"What happened? You all look like you've seen a ghost."
"VitaVine happened," Madame Fontaine replied, taking the crate from him. "Their man Rousseau just left after making Monsieur Moreau an offer."
Hugo's eyes found mine, concern evident. "Rousseau was here? What did he say?"
I shrugged. "Standard acquisition pitch. Debt clearance plus fifteen percent."
"Fifteen?" Hugo's eyebrows shot up. "That's—"
"Still not enough," I finished.
