Page 73 of The Vines Between Us
"We'll be too late." Hugo sank into the chair opposite me. "What about your Paris contacts? Any wine collectors among them?"
"A few, but they're not the sentimental type. They want investment-grade wines with established pedigrees." I ran a hand through my hair. "They'd laugh at futures from struggling vineyards."
Hugo reached across the desk and took my hand. "Then we need something else to show them. Something they can't refuse."
The determination in his eyes gave me strength. "What did you have in mind?"
"The secret room," he said. "We've only scratched the surface. Our grandfathers spent fifty years there—there must be something we've missed."
An hour later, we stood in Henri and Claude's sanctuary, examining every inch of the space. The pressing crew worked above us, the rhythmic creaking of the old press a counterpoint to our search.
"There has to be more," Hugo muttered, running his fingers alongthe stone walls. "Claude always said a vigneron should have contingency plans for his contingency plans."
I studied the bookshelves, pulling volumes at random, checking for hidden switches or compartments. Nothing. The record player yielded no secrets, nor did the comfortable chairs or the small table.
Frustration mounting, I slumped against the far wall, feeling the cool stone against my back. Something about the texture caught my attention—a slight difference between stones. I pressed my palm flat against it.
"Hugo," I called, "does this section of wall look different to you?"
He joined me, running expert fingers over the stonework. "It's newer mortar. Maybe repairs from water damage?"
I shook my head, excitement building. "Or a false wall." I tapped the stones, listening to the hollow echo. "Help me find a way to open it."
We examined the adjacent stones, looking for anything unusual. Hugo found it—a small depression that, when pressed, released a hidden catch. The section of wall swung inward with a groan of disuse.
"Mon Dieu," Hugo whispered.
Beyond the false wall lay another chamber, smaller than the first but lined with wine racks from floor to ceiling. The bottles, thick with dust, bore handwritten labels dating back to the 1940s.
"This is..." I stepped inside, my voice failing.
"A fortune," Hugo finished, gently lifting a bottle from 1947—one of the legendary post-war vintages. "Alexandre, these are worth—"
"Tens of thousands each," I breathed. "Maybe more."
We moved deeper into the hidden cellar, discovering bottle after bottle of exceptional vintages. But it wasn't just commercial wines—many bore experimental labels with cryptic notations: "C3-R7 cross, drought-resistant trial" and "Heat-tolerant Merlot variant, third generation."
Against the back wall stood a wooden filing cabinet. Inside, we found decades of meticulous notes—detailed records of experimental vine crossings, climate adaptation trials, and long-term projections of changing growing conditions.
"They were developing climate-resistant varieties," Hugo said, leafing through a notebook from 1985. "Look at these grafting techniques—they were decades ahead of their time."
I pulled out a folder labeled "Contingency." Inside was a letter, sealed in an envelope addressed to "For Alexandre and Hugo, should they need it."
With trembling fingers, I broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
My dear Alexandre and Hugo,
If you are reading this, then you have found our legacy and, we hope, each other. For years, Claude and I worked to create vines that would survive the changes we foresaw coming to our beloved region. Climate shifts, corporate consolidation, the loss of traditional methods—we watched these threats gathering on the horizon.
What you have discovered is our insurance policy against uncertain times. The experimental vines documented here have been planted in the northeast corner of Domaine Tremblay, disguised among traditional plantings. They represent decades of selection for heat tolerance, disease resistance, and drought survival, while maintaining the character that makes Saint-Émilion wines special.
The vintages stored here were kept as both proof of concept and financial reserve. We never needed to use them in our lifetime, but they are yours now, to secure the future of both domaines.
We hoped that one day our legacy might reunite our properties as they should always have been—together, as we wished to be but never could publicly acknowledge. Perhaps you will succeed where we could not.
With all our love and faith,
Henri and Claude
