Page 68 of The Vines Between Us
The community hall was packed the following evening. It seemed everyone in Saint-Émilion had turned out for the meeting, from the oldest vignerons to young families with children. MayorBeaumont called for order, his voice barely audible above the buzz of conversation.
"As you know, we're here to discuss the future of our wine industry," he began. "Monsieur Rousseau from VitaVine Corporation has requested time to present a comprehensive proposal."
I scanned the room, noting the alliance members scattered throughout. Jean-Marc sat with his wife, their heads close together in whispered conversation. The Perrin brothers had positioned themselves near the exit, as if preparing for a quick retreat.
Rousseau stepped forward, immaculate in a tailored suit that probably cost more than most people in the room earned in a month. His smile was practiced, confident.
"Friends and neighbours," he began in flawless regional French, "I come to you not as an outsider, but as someone who deeply respects the heritage and tradition of Saint-Émilion."
I resisted the urge to snort. Beside me, Hugo tensed visibly.
"VitaVine has been privileged to partner with several estates in your community already," Rousseau continued. "Today, I'm authorized to extend our most generous offer yet."
He unveiled a large presentation board showing a map of the region, with VitaVine properties highlighted in red. Nearly a third of the vineyards were already marked.
"We propose a comprehensive investment in Saint-Émilion's future. Not piecemeal acquisitions, but a unified approach that preserves individual vineyard identities while providing the financial stability and market access that only a global company can offer."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I glanced at Jean-Marc, who was leaning forward intently.
"Specifically," Rousseau continued, "we're prepared to offer fifty percent above market value for any vineyard that joins our Saint-Émilion Initiative within the next thirty days. Furthermore, we'll guarantee employment for all current workers, maintain existing vineyard names, and establish a community fund for local improvements and concerns."
The murmurs grew louder. Fifty percent above market was significantly more than previous offers.
"For those concerned about losing control," Rousseau added, "we propose a local advisory board with real input into production decisions. Saint-Émilion's character will be preserved, while its future is secured."
He went on to outline infrastructure investments, tourism development, and educational partnerships. It was comprehensive, polished, and—I had to admit—appealing on the surface.
When Rousseau finished, Mayor Beaumont invited questions. Several hands shot up immediately.
"What happens to vineyards that don't accept your offer?" Marcel asked bluntly.
Rousseau's smile never wavered. "Nothing changes for them. They continue as they have. Though I should note that as more properties join our initiative, economies of scale will make it increasingly difficult for independent operations to compete."
The threat was subtle but clear.
"And the Small Producers Alliance?" This from Madame Fontaine. "How does it fit into your vision?"
"We respect their right to exist," Rousseau replied smoothly. "However, our offer extends to alliance members as well, either individually or collectively. In fact..." He paused for effect. "I'm authorized to offer a special premium to the alliance as a whole, should they choose to integrate with our initiative intact."
I felt my jaw clench. This was new—and dangerous. By offering to absorb the alliance rather than dismantle it, Rousseau was providing a way for wavering members to rationalize acceptance.
When it was finally my turn to speak, I stood slowly, aware of all eyes upon me.
"Monsieur Rousseau presents a compelling vision," I began, choosing my words carefully. "But I'd like to remind everyone what's at stake. Saint-Émilion isn't just a wine region; it's a livinghistory of independent winemaking. Once that independence is gone, it cannot be reclaimed."
I gestured to the map. "Those red areas? Ask the vignerons there how much 'advisory input' they actually have. Ask how many of their children still work the land their families tended for generations."
Rousseau's smile tightened slightly.
"The alliance offers a different path," I continued. "One that preserves true independence while providing collective strength. Yes, it's harder. Yes, it requires sacrifice. But the reward is authenticity—in our wine, in our community, in our lives."
I looked directly at Jean-Marc. "And we take care of our own. Not through corporate charity, but through genuine solidarity."
Hugo stood beside me. "The choice before us isn't just about business. It's about who we are and what we value. Once we surrender that, no amount of money will bring it back."
As we sat down, I could feel the room divided. Some nodded in agreement; others looked skeptical. The battle for Saint-Émilion's soul was balanced on a knife's edge.
Mayor Beaumont called for order as the discussion grew heated. "We'll need time to consider both proposals. I suggest we reconvene in one week for further discussion."
