Page 62 of The Vines Between Us
"So did I. But it seems they made their individual wines first, then created the blend as something special." I carefully uncorked the first bottle, letting it breathe. "I thought we might taste them side by side, then create our own blend. A new Moreau-Tremblay vintage."
"Alexandre..." Hugo's voice caught. He moved closer, taking the bottle from my hands and setting it down. "This is perfect."
I pulled him close, breathing in the scent of vineyard soil and the lavender soap he favoured. "I want to honour what they built while creating something of our own."
We poured small measures of each wine, examining the color against the soft light. The Moreau was deeper, with hints of tobacco and black currant. The Tremblay was slightly lighter, more aromatic with notes of violet and plum.
"They're both beautiful," Hugo murmured, "but different."
"Like Claude and Henri." I swirled the wine in my glass. "Like us."
We experimented with different proportions, carefully blending small amounts, tasting and discussing. It became a dance of flavours, of memories, of possibilities.
"This one," Hugo said finally, after our fifth attempt. "Sixty percent Moreau, forty percent Tremblay. It's balanced."
I tasted it again, letting the complex flavours linger on my tongue. "Perfect."
We sat in the comfortable chairs where our grandfathers had once sat, sipping our creation. The room felt alive with history, with secrets whispered between lovers across decades.
"I've been thinking," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "What if we created a new label? Not just for us, but for the Alliance. A special cuvée using the best grapes from all seven vineyards."
Hugo considered this. "A true community wine. Claude would have loved that idea."
"Henri too." I set my glass down. "VitaVine can't compete with what we're building here. Corporate efficiency will never match passion and heritage, the consumer prefers that always when given a choice."
Hugo's expression darkened slightly. "Speaking of VitaVine, Marcel mentioned something strange yesterday. The delivery truck with our new irrigation parts supposedly got lost. Ended up in Pomerol somehow."
"That's the third 'accident' this week." I frowned. "Jean-Marc's tractor battery mysteriously died, and Sophie's order of bottles was suddenly backordered."
"Rousseau's getting desperate." Hugo's hand found mine. "We're actually succeeding, and he can't stand it."
"Let him try." I squeezed his fingers. "We're stronger together."
Hugo set his glass down and moved to the record player, selecting an album and carefully placing the needle. The scratchy opening notes of Edith Piaf filled the small room. He turned to me, hand extended.
"Dance with me."
I took his hand, pulling him close as we swayed in the limited space. My grandfather had danced here with Claude, finding moments of joy in their hidden sanctuary. But we didn't need to hide.
"I love you," I whispered against his ear. "I think I've loved you since we were boys working these vines together, before I even knew what to call this feeling."
We danced for what felt like hours, losing ourselves in the music and each other's arms, before reluctantly agreeing we needed to return to work. We had a vineyard to save—two vineyards, in fact—and an alliance to build.
Back in Henri's study—now my study—I watched Hugo hunched over the massive oak table, reviewing the bylaws I'd drafted for the Alliance. Afternoon light now replaced the morning's glow, still catching in his hair as he worked.
"Stop staring and bring those financial projections over," Hugo said without looking up. "Jean-Marc wants the final version before noon tomorrow."
I laughed. "How did you know I was here?"
"I always know when you're near." He finally looked up, eyes crinkling. "It's like the air changes."
I crossed the room and laid the folder beside him. "Five signatures. Marcel, Gérard, Sophie, Jean-Marc, and Madame Fontaine. Plus us, that makes seven vineyards officially committed."
Hugo flipped through the document, running his finger along the carefully crafted legal language I'd spent three days perfecting.
"You've really done it." He shook his head in disbelief. "This actually looks legitimate."
"It is legitimate. Bertrand says it's legally binding. VitaVine can't touch us if we stick together."
