LOVE IS IN THE CELLAR: Verne Estate Series, Book 2

7. Leona

“How could you not tell me about it?”

I use a tone that would not be suitable for a normal conversation on the first day at work with a colleague, but this is my sister. And the fact that she hid from me that Manon has been working here for a month! A month!

Madelyn is sitting behind her desk, her hands resting on her huge stomach. She rolls her eyes and says:

“I didn’t see the need for it. Besides, you haven’t even asked me once about your future work colleagues. I didn’t think it was anything important to you.”

“What?” I shout in my best indignant voice. “But we’re not talking about just anyone here! You know that we have always hated each other!”

She seems almost surprised to find out.

“Oh, yes?”

She shrugs her shoulders and says:

“It’s not a big deal, you’re not going to work directly together.”

“You don’t get it! We can’t breathe the same air, him and me; it’s instinctive...”

“You did it for eighteen years, and it didn’t go too badly for you, or him,” she cuts me off.

She gets up and walks around the desk to leave the room. What does that mean? She doesn’t give a damn about my well-being at work!

“I can’t understand how you don’t realize that I hate him!” I said, trotting behind her.

She’s really fast, given her circumference!

“Madelyn, are you listening to me?”

I don’t care if somebody overhears us. The whole village already knows and it’s too early for clients to be here. We move towards a tasting cellar; this one looks empty.

“It’s been six years,” she replies, grabbing a brochure from the bar.

“It has not been six years, I met him no later than Saturday and he’s still so obnoxious. The bottle of cat’s pee at mom and dad’s party was another trick! Madelyn, it’s as if I told you that Melanie, the girl who always drove you crazy during your riding competitions, was going to work with you here every day.”

My sister frowns, and I see that I have hit a sore spot.

“It has absolutely nothing to do with Melanie, who’s a cheating motherfucker! Manon is a nice boy. A little teasing, admittedly; but he’s always been sweet to me.”

Teasing? It’s like she’s talking about a four-year-old kid. But her reaction isn’t surprising. I know that Manon isn’t the same with me as he is with the rest of the world. That’s why Madelyn sees only one side of his personality.

“You’re my sister, you should take my side,” I tried in a last effort.

She hands me the brochure.

“Here, I’m your boss. So, we’ll forget your childishness, you’ll read that... and try to retain as quickly as possible the information that’s marked. And then, we’ll go over the groups planned for the week.”

I sigh.

“You know Lena’s my favourite sister.”

She sniffles which means she doesn’t believe it for a second.

“That’s good, she’s mine too. Even though I prefer your clothes. Nice blouse, I have to admit,” she said, pointing at it with her chin.

“Thank you. On the other hand, I won’t ask where you found yours? I know you’re pregnant, but still...”

She looks down at her top like she’s just finding out what she put on this morning. In this case: a hideous candy pink rag that gives her, with her big belly, the allure of Barba papa.

“What? What’s wrong with my blouse? It was Jameson who gave it to me for Mother’s Day.”

“Well, congratulations! You finally became a mom.”

She narrows her eyes and threatens me with her finger.

“Ah, that, even coming from you, it’s really nasty.”

“But absolutely correct,” replies a male voice that makes us both jump.

I turn around and suddenly face a rather large chest under a black shirt – very well cut, I note in passing – which conceals nothing of the flawless physique it covers. My gaze goes up to the open collar which reveals a triangle of golden skin, then a square jaw shaded by a carefully groomed beard. Sparkling blue eyes and expertly styled blond hair complete it all. The giant smiles at me, and the least we can say is that he’s very pleasant to look at. He also smells very good.

“You must be Leona?” he asks, holding out his hand to greet me.

I note in passing that he has manicured nails. Besides, his palm is very soft, I’ll have to remember to ask him which salon he goes to.

I give him his handshake and answer in the affirmative.

“Welcome to the Verne Estate, I’m Jack,” he said before addressing Madelyn: “Sorry boss, but your sister’s right: that blouse is awful.”

Madelyn casts a disappointed look at her chest again.

“And why didn’t you tell me when I put it on last week?”

Jack pretends to be embarrassed; and even I, who have only known him for five seconds, understand that he’s absolutely not.

“Because you’re the one signing the paychecks?” he suggests, while I laugh quietly.

“You both tire me out,” sighs my sister. “Jack, take Leona around the cellar this morning and give her a tasting. She needs to get to know our wines as quickly as possible.”

She then leaves the room.

A tasting! I wouldn’t say no! Good news at last!

I have already drunk the wines of the estate, but who would refuse such a proposal? Certainly not me.

I take back what I said. Tasting wines before 10 a.m. isn’t necessarily a good idea. But I was blown away by the atmosphere. The cellar is magnificent, with its vaulted stone ceilings and light wood furniture. It perfectly combines modernity and tradition. I know Jameson spent a lot of time supervising the work. It was important, knowing that it’s the first place that visitors discover when coming to the estate. But what I like best is the smell that emanates from it. A subtle blend of grapes, wood, and sun, just perfect. How not to want to taste everything in such an atmosphere?

“I told you to spit it out from the first drink,” Jack laughs.

“But I’m fine!”

I try to convince him it’s true, perched on my stool, facing the bar. I put a hand on it to stabilize myself. Jack’s right. I should never have drunk the wines; especially since I barely ate breakfast, too irritated by Madelyn’s betrayal. But my guide for the day spoke of grape varieties with such passion… We can see that he really enjoys his job. And then I have to know the different wines offered by the estate, be able to describe their colour, the smells of the first nose and the second, the flavours, the sensations they give off. I’m not going to work in the vault like Jack, but to replace Madelyn in her business duties. This means that I’ll manage the orders, take care of the events that take place at the estate as well as the website. I’m bound to need some basics.

“Come on, let’s take a break. We’re going to get some fresh air,” my new colleague told me.

I let out a chuckle.

“What? What’s the matter?” he asks, putting the glasses away under the counter in a mini–dishwasher.

“You rhyme,” I chuckle.

His eyes widen and I have the impression that he takes me for crazy. Or he understands that I’m tipsier than I seem.

“Take a break,” I repeated with another chuckle.

“That’s what I thought. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

I get off my stool, not without difficulty. But since I’m a good actress, I manage to hide it quite well… I think.

“Where are we going? To the other cellars?”

“Certainly not. You need some fresh air; we’re going for a walk in the vineyards. If you’re nice, I’ll show you my favourite place.”

I give him a smile that’s supposed to confirm that I’m going to be good. But mostly I think it shows that I’m half drunk.

We leave the cellar and cross the sun–battered courtyard, then a superb French-style garden adorned with boxwood and more Mediterranean species. A few plane trees here and there offer points of shade; and a pretty belvedere, very popular with the bride and groom who organize their reception at the estate, completes this magical setting. We climb some stone steps. I think to myself that working here I’m going to have to adopt a more appropriate style of footwear. Stiletto heels don’t mix well with gravel and unpaved terrain. Besides, Jack gallantly offers me his arm.

“It’s just a little higher,” he confides to me, certainly in case I wonder what type of hike he’s taking me on.

We climb through the terraces of olive trees. It’s all lovely, but I don’t see what’s so interesting about it. It wasn’t until we got to the top, where there was a simple stone bench, that I understood. The buildings of the estate are located below, on our left; but what makes all the interest from this point of view isn’t the listed buildings. It’s the hillsides planted with vines that stretch as far as the eye can see. These hundreds of carefully aligned vines that spring has adorned with very green leaves. They seem to form a rampart all around the village which is located a little further on the plain, while the Maures Massif, at the far end, defines the horizon line.

Jack sits on the bench. There’s enough room for two, so I join him. We observe in silence this panorama so simple and yet so beautiful.

“I understand why you like this place,” I said after a few minutes.

“When I’m having a bad day, or when I need to clear my head, I come here. It’s so relaxing, whatever the season.”

“Thanks for showing me your special place. The view is really beautiful,” I add dreamily.

“Are you talking about the vines or the handsome boy walking through them?”

I wonder for a second what he’s talking about when I realize that on our right, there’s indeed a man who is checking the vines closely. It doesn’t take more than a fraction of a second to recognize him: Manon.

All the serenity I had been feeling for the last few minutes has suddenly vanished. According to Madelyn, I won’t see him often. But what is this? And I’ve only worked here for two hours. And as misfortune never happens alone, now Jack’s calling him:

“Hey, Manon!”

Then addressing me:

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“No, you don’t have to,” I protested.

But before I have time to add anything, Jack is heading straight for my worst nightmare. I have no choice but to follow him.

Manon raised his head and is watching us. Would he take a step in our direction to come and meet us? No, of course not. Rather, he plants both his legs in the ground and crosses his arms over his chest. You don’t have to be a body language expert to realize that he’s already preparing for a confrontation. His biceps are bulging under the faded blue fabric of his t-shirt, I don’t remember how strong he was at eighteen. It’s certainly because of all these barrels that he has to carry now. His skin, which has always been naturally golden – thank you Italian origins – is more so. Isn’t he supposed to spend his days in a damp cellar watching if the little grapes are fermenting properly? He has a beard that’s a few days old, which is nothing like Jack’s well-trimmed beard. It’s surely laziness to shave rather than a deliberate choice when it comes to looks. He wears the same cap as on Saturday at the supermarket. Someone might have to tell him that when you’re a student, it’s okay, but when you’re an adult, it’s old-style.

His eyes are on me. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me here, which confirms something for me: he knew I was coming. I don’t like it. I don’t appreciate that he has an advantage.

“Leona, this is Manon, our new cellar master,” announces Jack when we are only a few meters from him.

As surprising as it is, Manon puts a smile on his lips. I must admit that he has become a better actor with age, and for all the loathing I have for him, I could almost be fooled. His smile is no longer that of a kid, it’s that of a man. And if it weren’t for the devil himself, I might find him charming. But hey, don’t we say of Lucifer that he charms his prey before roasting them in hell?

“We already know each other,” I said to Jack.

“Oh, yes?” he wonders.

“We grew up together,” I said.

Jack looks at each of us. Manon and I are in a silent conversation that can be summed up in one sentence: Yes, and I still hate you.

Sensing the tension in the air, Jack declares:

“Well, I’ll leave you. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”

Before I even have time to protest, he’s already gone. When I refocus on Manon, he’s looking at my feet. My shoes, more precisely.

“Did you get lost on your way to your next Parisian fashion show?” he asks, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“For your information, it’s rather the stage of a theatre that I’m used to. Not that I expect you to know the difference. And some of us have learned to dress differently than when we were in college. Did you win your cap at a raffle?”

The smirk that appears on his face is now much more familiar than that fake smile he gave me in front of Jack.

“Interesting, your choice of words earlier,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“We grew up together. I don’t know if I would have presented it like that.”

“What did you want me to tell him? No need to introduce him to me, he’s the asshole who served as my neighbour for eighteen long years of suffering.”

“Said like that, he would not have believed you. I think I have been rather appreciated since I’ve been here. Which makes you the crazy one who shows up talking nonsense.”

“The fact that you think you are appreciated and that you aren’t sure is in my opinion a good indication that you’re talking nonsense. While I’m pretty sure everyone I’ve met since this morning already adores me.”

Well, in truth, I only saw Madelyn – she has to love me, she’s my sister –, Jameson – he doesn’t have to love me but he has to pretend so as not to upset my sister – a farmworker who gave me a vague nod, and Jack. He likes me, doesn’t he?

“Because you think the people who work here are going to tell you if they don’t like you? They’re employed by your brother–in–law, they’ll all pretend to like you.”

“Is that all you can say? Why don’t you add that I only got the job because I’m part of the family? At least you won’t be wrong for once.”

He no longer smiles and watches me for a few seconds, then sighs:

“Leo. We’re not kids anymore, you and me. So, let’s try to put our differences aside and make an effort. Could we at least be able to work together without it looking like trench warfare? I love this area and this job. The people who work here are great. Your brother–in–law and your sister–in–law have been lovely to me since I arrived. We should both cool this… thing, don’t you think?”

“Don’t call me Leo. And not bad, your little speech. Did you rehearse it in front of the mirror before coming?”

“Mirrors are more your thing if I remember correctly?”

I don’t know how he did it, but when we were in school, he found out that I spent a lot of time in front of mine practising for my theatre club. Of course, he went to tell his friends a whole different story. Supposedly I spent hours admiring my reflection while asking every night who was the most beautiful, like the witch in Snow White.

“It must be a long time since you looked in one,” I replied.

“Sorry, no one told me that Her Majesty was going to visit the vineyards this morning. Otherwise, I would have put on my gala outfit.”

The truth is, his clothes are certainly suitable for his job; and a part of me finds his ripped jeans which fall low on her hips sexy. But I’d rather die than admit it.

“Aren’t you supposed to work in the cellar, by the way, rather than here?”

He makes a mocking sound.

“Ah, Leona,” he sighs. “I think you spent a little too much time in Paris. This stay at Locron will at least allow you to clear your head, hopefully.”

With these words, he turns on his heels and leaves. And I hate that it was he who had the last word.