Page 76 of The Vines Between Us
"The tide is turning," I murmured, more to Alexandre than to Jean-Marc.
"VitaVine miscalculated," Alexandre replied. "They thought we were just small producers struggling to survive. They didn't understand we're custodians of something much larger than ourselves."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. While the researchers continued their examination of the vines, Alexandre and I shuttled between meetings with journalists, bank representatives, and Alliance members. By late afternoon, we'd convened in the grand cellar of Domaine Moreau for a tasting that included wines from both our estates as well as contributions from other local vignerons.
The cellar hummed with conversation as people moved between tables, sampling wines and exchanging stories. I stood near the entrance, momentarily overwhelmed by the scene. Just weeks ago, this space had been empty and neglected, a symbol of Henri's decline and Alexandre's absence. Now it pulsed with life and possibility.
"Quite the transformation," said a voice beside me, and I turned to find Madame Fontaine, elegant as always in her tailored jacket.
"In more ways than one," I agreed.
She nodded toward Alexandre, who was deep in conversation with a journalist from Wine Spectator, gesturing animatedly as he explained the specifics of the experimental varietals. "He's found his place atlast. As have you."
"We both have," I said, unable to keep the contentment from my voice.
"Claude and Henri would be proud." She patted my arm. "Though not surprised, I think. They always believed in the two of you, even when you couldn't see the way forward yourselves."
Before I could respond, there was a commotion at the cellar entrance. Étienne Rousseau stood framed in the doorway, his expensive suit incongruous among the casual attire of the vignerons and researchers. The conversations around us dimmed as people noticed his arrival.
Alexandre excused himself from the journalist and made his way to my side, his posture straight and confident as he faced Rousseau.
"This is a private event," Alexandre said coolly.
Rousseau affected an expression of hurt surprise. "And here I thought the Saint-Émilion wine community prided itself on hospitality. I merely came to offer my congratulations on your... fortuitous discovery."
"Your congratulations aren't necessary," I replied. "Neither is your presence."
Rousseau's smile tightened. "I understand several of our potential partners are reconsidering their options. I thought it might be helpful to remind everyone that VitaVine's offers remain on the table—though perhaps not indefinitely."
"Your threats don't work here anymore," Alexandre said, his voice carrying in the now-silent cellar. "We know what we have, and we know what we're worth."
"What you have," Rousseau countered, "is a collection of old wine and untested grape varieties. VitaVine offers certainty in an uncertain market."
"What we have," I said, stepping forward, "is five centuries of winemaking tradition, a community that stands together, and innovations that will carry us into the next century. What exactly are you offering that compares?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembledvignerons. Jean-Marc moved to stand beside us, followed by Marcel and several others. Even the researchers had paused their discussions to watch the confrontation.
Rousseau glanced around the room, clearly sensing the shift in atmosphere. His confident demeanor faltered slightly.
"VitaVine has resources you can't match," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Perhaps," Alexandre acknowledged. "But we have something you can't buy: a connection to this land that goes back generations. Our grandfathers understood that some things are worth more than money—they're worth protecting for the future."
"Sentiment won't save you in a global market," Rousseau scoffed.
Professor Renaud cleared his throat. "Actually, Monsieur Rousseau, you're quite mistaken. The preliminary data on these experimental varieties suggests they may represent a significant advancement in climate-resistant viticulture. The EU Agricultural Commission is already expressing interest in funding further research and implementation across the region."
"And the historical significance of the discovery has fast-tracked our application for heritage protection status," Madame Fontaine added. "The entire appellation stands to benefit."
I watched Rousseau's face as he calculated this new information, reassessing his position. VitaVine had based its strategy on our vulnerability—our debts, our isolation, our lack of resources. Now, with the Alliance strengthening and external support pouring in, that vulnerability had vanished.
"VitaVine always seeks productive partnerships," he said smoothly, attempting to salvage the situation. "Perhaps we could discuss a collaborative approach—"
"I think we've had enough of your boxed wine kind of collaboration," Alexandre interrupted. "The door is behind you."
For a moment, I thought Rousseau might argue further, but a glance around the room seemed to convince him of the futility.With a stiff nod, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing on the stone stairs.
A collective exhale seemed to pass through the cellar, followed by a resumption of conversation, louder and more animated than before. Alexandre turned to me, his eyes bright with triumph and something deeper.
