Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

tossed the beak back into the plate and chewed with evident pleasure. The other French people at the table followed her example. Jacqueline and Pamela stared.
    “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” said Jacqueline, but copied the others. Very gingerly, Pamela did the same.
    “But that’s delicious,” said Pamela, obviously surprised. “I thought it would be all bone.”
    “One of the secrets of French cooking,” said the baron, “is never to let anything go to waste.”
    Hubert began talking enthusiastically of the blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot and cabernet franc that he thought would best suit the land around the Domaine. Jacqueline sat with her chin in her hands, taking in every word, her eyes fixed on Hubert’s animated face. Nathalie observed Jacqueline coldly.
Aha
, thought Bruno,
a little tension seems to be developing
. He looked across at Pamela, who glanced at Nathalie and returned an amused glance at him. Time to change the tempo, thought Bruno.
    “Is it time for the baron’s Beaune, Hubert?” he asked.
    “Ah, yes; excuse me,” said Hubert, picking up the second decanter and pouring into the fresh glasses. Bruno preferred touse the same plates for his dishes—after they were scraped clean by bread, leaving only a hint of the preceding course—but he always offered different glasses for different wines.
    “Well, if you think there’s real potential there, that could be interesting to me,” the baron said. “You know I own some of that land by the Domaine and I had an interesting offer for it just the other day from some Parisian. He wanted to pay me for an option to buy it by the end of the year, but he was a bit too cagey about his plans for me to bite.”
    “What did he offer?” Hubert asked, rather too innocently. “You know some of that land has been going for four thousand euros a hectare and more.”
    The baron looked across the table at Hubert, weighing whether to answer or to concentrate on his food and drink. Courtesy won the day. “He offered more for the barns and buildings. I was quite surprised.”
    “You turned him down?” asked Nathalie.
    “No; we’ll be meeting again. But I need to make some inquiries about land values and what it might cost me to restore the buildings.”
    “Houses and land, you should ask at least six hundred thousand,” said Hubert.
    “His offer was short of that. We’ll see what happens when we meet again.”
    “You should hold out for a lot more,” said Jacqueline. “Did you know that the real buyer is Bondino, the big American company? Max told me they’re trying to buy up all the land, including Cresseil’s.”
    Hubert threw her a frosty glance, as if he’d have preferred this information not be revealed. But her remark made Bruno pensive. That might explain why she spent time with Bondino. Max may have asked her to find out more about Bondino’s plans.
    “Bondino? That’s very interesting,” said the baron, finishing his Beaune with a satisfied smack of his lips. “I must make more inquiries. Thank you, mademoiselle.” He glanced at his watch. “No more for me, Bruno. No dessert, none of your Monbazillac, just in case the gendarmes are out tonight.”
    “I couldn’t manage another thing,” said Nathalie. “Not a bite and not a drop. It was lovely, Bruno, a dinner to remember, despite everything that’s happened.”
    “It was your wine that made it.” Bruno smiled. “But no Monbazillac? No coffee? No little digestif?” he asked, to a chorus of nos and much patting of full stomachs.
    “So it seems there is a choice to be made, Hubert. Either you will bring our valley back to its wine-growing tradition, or the Americans will. We should discuss this further,” said the baron, strolling out to the garden, where the two dogs waited hungrily by the still glowing barbecue.

26
    Bruno was just piling dishes beside his sink when he heard the rattling of Pamela’s starter, over and over. Wearing around his waist the old towel he used as an apron, he went out to see what the problem was.
    “The car likes to tease me,” said Pamela. “It usually starts the first time. But it can be moody.” She tried again, and this time Bruno heard the slowing of the starter motor as the battery began to fade. “Oh God, the battery’s dying on me. I knew it was time for a new one.”
    “I’ll drive you both back in my van, but someone will have to ride in the back, which is kind of a mess,” Bruno said. “I have a charger