Page 75 of The Vines Between Us
In the gentle silence that followed, I felt the presence of Claude and Henri—not as ghosts or memories, but as the foundation beneath us, the careful planning that had brought us to this moment. They had loved in secret, stealing moments in this hidden room while maintaining separate lives above ground.
We wouldn't have to live that way. Thanks to their foresight, their patience, their fifty-year plan that had finally come to fruition, Hugo and I could build something they had only dreamed of—a life together in the open, preserving both domaines as one.
Tomorrow would bring the appraisers' final valuation, calls to the bank, the continuation of our early harvest. We would face Rousseau and VitaVine with new confidence, armed with resources they couldn't have anticipated. The remaining Alliance members would celebrate our unexpected salvation.
But tonight, in this sanctuary that had waited so long to reveal its final secret, there was only Hugo and me, and the profound certainty that we had been given a gift beyond measure—not just financial security or unique grape varieties, but the love of two men who had seen the future and prepared the way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HUGO
Istood at the edge of the northeast corner of Domaine Tremblay, watching as Professor Renaud and his team from the Agricultural Institute of Montpellier carefully examined the experimental vines. The morning sun caught in the dew-laden leaves, turning them into a thousand glittering prisms. For thirty years, these vines had grown here, patiently waiting to be discovered. For thirty years, I had walked past them, never knowing their significance.
"Remarkable," Professor Renaud murmured, his magnifying glass hovering over a cluster of small, tight berries. "The resistance to mildew is evident even to the naked eye. And you say they've never been treated with fungicides?"
"Not according to the records," I replied, handing him Claude and Henri's meticulous documentation. "They wanted to develop varieties that could withstand changing climate conditions without chemical intervention."
"Visionaries," the professor said, shaking his head in admiration. "Absolute visionaries. They were thinking about climate adaptation decades before it became fashionable in viticulture."
Alexandre approached from the direction of the manor house, his long strides eating up the distance between us. Even after these weeks together, my heart still quickened at the sight of him. He carried a tray with coffee and pastries, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms tanned from our recent work in the vineyards.
"The journalist from Decanter just arrived," he announced, setting the tray on a weathered stone table near the vines. "That makes three this week."
"And the EU heritage committee?" I asked, accepting a cup of coffee from him, our fingers brushing in a way that still felt electric.
"Scheduled for tomorrow. Madame Fontaine is arranging accommodations for them at the inn." Alexandre smiled at Professor Renaud. "Any preliminary findings to share?"
The professor straightened, adjusting his glasses with soil-stained fingers. "These vines represent a significant advancement in sustainable viticulture. The cross-breeding techniques your grandfathers employed were decades ahead of their time. I believe they've created something that could revolutionize wine production in regions struggling with climate volatility."
One of his assistants called him over to examine another section, and Alexandre took the opportunity to step closer to me, his shoulder pressing against mine.
"It's really happening," he said quietly. "Everything's changing so fast."
I nodded, still trying to process the whirlwind of the past week. After the appraisers had confirmed the value of the wine collection, we'd approached the bank with our findings. The manager's expression had shifted from skeptical to astonished as he reviewed the documentation. By the following day, our loans had been restructured, with more favourable terms based on the newly discovered assets.
But it was the experimental vines that had truly captured people's attention. Once word leaked about Henri and Claude'sdecades-long viticultural research project, the quiet village of Saint-Émilion had suddenly found itself hosting a parade of wine journalists, agricultural researchers, and heritage preservation specialists.
"I keep expecting to wake up," I admitted, watching the researchers move methodically through the vines. "A month ago, we were facing foreclosure. Now we're fielding calls from Jancis Robinson and the EU Agricultural Commission."
Alexandre laughed, the sound warming me more than the coffee. "Claude and Henri certainly knew how to make an entrance, even from beyond the grave."
A familiar truck rumbled up the dirt road toward us, and I recognized Jean-Marc's faded blue Peugeot pickup. He parked beside the researchers' vehicles and climbed out, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and determination.
"Bonjour," he called, approaching with a crate of bottles in his arms. "I brought some of my father's older vintages for the tasting this afternoon."
Alexandre and I exchanged glances. Jean-Marc had been among the first to waver when VitaVine increased their offers, citing his daughter's medical needs. He'd formally withdrawn from the Alliance just days before our discovery, though he hadn't yet signed with VitaVine.
"Merci," I said, accepting the crate. "We're setting up in the main cellar at Domaine Moreau."
Jean-Marc shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to speak with you both, actually. About rejoining the Alliance."
Alexandre's expression remained neutral. "I thought you'd decided VitaVine offered better security for your family."
"I was wrong," Jean-Marc said simply. "When I heard what you'd discovered—not just the wine collection, but what Claude and Henri were trying to create here—I realized I was about to throw away something irreplaceable." He looked down at his weathered hands. "My grandfather would never have forgiven me."
I felt Alexandre tense beside me, but when he spoke, his voice was measured. "The Alliance was created to preserve our independence and our traditions. If that's what you want too, the door remains open."
Jean-Marc's relief was palpable. "The Cloutiers are reconsidering as well. And Marcel says three others who'd accepted VitaVine's preliminary offers are looking for ways to back out."
