Having the Frenchman's Baby

While they ate, Giselle winked at Rachel. “Giles said you had a feeling for the vine beyond the ordinary person. Have you thought about what you’ll do now that you’re not going to be buying wines for your family business?”

Rachel finished the last of her juice. “Actually we’ve been so busy, that’s one subject we haven’t touched on yet.”

“Good, because I have an idea.” Giselle set down her plate.

“How would you like to work with me in the wine shipping department? I have helpers, of course, but it would be wonderful to work with another family member who knows what she’s doing.”

Rachel was stunned by the offer. “Did you pack the shipment that came to Bella Lucia’s?”

“Giles insisted no one else should touch it. How did I do?”

“Every bottle arrived in perfect condition.”

“That’s a relief. It’s a lot of fun really. When we get sore backs we can sit on stools, and if we’re nauseated or tired, we’ll take time off.”

Rachel’s gaze swerved to her husband’s. “What do you think, Luc?”

He’d just bitten into a peach. She waited for him to swallow.

“I think you should do whatever pleases you.”

“But how do you feel about it? Personally, I mean.”

He stared at her through shuttered eyes. “Personally I’d love to see you join the family business. It isn’t as if you’re not used to it. But I’m warning you now. At times we can be as difficult and impossible as anyone within the Valentine organization, so you might not want to make a hard and fast decision today.”

“No one could be more difficult than my father. I don’t have any reservations about working with Giselle.”

Her sister-in-law clapped her hands to her knees. “Then it’s settled.” She eyed Luc, then Rachel. “I know he wants to keep you all to himself for a few days, so when you’re ready, come to th—”

“Maman?” One of Giselle’s boys was calling to her.

“In the salon, Guy.”

Rachel turned in time to see Giselle’s cute brown-haired sons and husband come in the living room. They must have entered through the basement.

Luc made the introductions. The boys shook Rachel’s hand.

“Bonjour.”

“Bonjour.”

“Speak English to your aunt,” Jean-Marc prodded them.

Rachel smiled. “It’s all right. I’d rather they helped me with my French.”

The youngest boy said, “You and Maman don’t look enceinte.”

Rachel knew that word. It meant pregnant.

With a poker face Luc said, “They’ll look like swollen grapes by Christmas, Guy.”

“Lucien Chartier, what a horrid thing to say!” Giselle chided him, but she said it with a twinkle in her eye.

“By next spring they’ll both need a vineyard cart to get around,” Jean-Marc heaped it on.

Giselle put her arms around her boys. “Don’t listen to them. Just think—next year there will be two new babies in the family.”

“Chouette.” This from Patrick.