Having the Frenchman's Baby
“Be brave and humor me.”
She closed her eyes. “Sylvaner is fresh—fruity—dry—young— How am I doing?”
When there was no answer, she opened them a little to peer up at him. It was a mistake. The way he was staring at her mouth erased every thought from her mind but one.
He’d gone perfectly still. “You left out spicy.”
“That’s right,” she half moaned in frustration. “There’s so much to learn.”
“For someone who wasn’t raised in a vintner’s family, you know a great deal already and receive highest marks, Rachel.”
Every time he said her name in his heavy accent, it made her forget what they were talking about.
He put his hands on his hips and looked out on the steep vineyard. “It is a young wine, which I’m trying to improve. I decided to build a house up here and use this vineyard for a laboratory.”
“I can understand why. It’s inspiring just to be in this heavenly spot away from distractions.”
He nodded. “From the time I was old enough to follow my father around, it has been a favorite spot.
“In my teens, this vista made me feel master of all I surveyed. Lately it represents a place where I can be strictly alone. No one tends these vines but me.”
“And now you have a house. How soon will it be finished?”
“Aside from a few things to still move in, it’s done.”
This was the kind of retreat she’d envisioned for herself. The type she hoped to buy one day. But this one wouldn’t be on the market.
She looked away, tortured by another impossible dream where she lived in it with him.
It had been wrong of her to feel excitement when he’d told her he was no longer married.
What kind of a person was she to be happy about that piece of news when divorce was such a traumatic experience?
He must have loved his ex-wife very much not to have re-married yet.
His deepest feelings for her would explain the mysterious silences, his brooding aura at times.
Divorce had been the major cause of her pain growing up. The result being that she and her sister found themselves on opposite sides of a horrendous family tragedy.
She would always grieve that she hadn’t been with her mother at the end, and that she didn’t have a close relationship with Rebecca.
Too many years her family had been torn apart by their father’s inability to stay with one woman and be happy.
Smoothing the hair off her forehead, she said, “You’re a lucky man to be able to build your own place away from everyone.”
“I take it you live in the heart of busy London.”
She nodded. “A flat at Grey’s Lodge I purchased several years ago. It has turned out to be a good investment.”
“Where is it exactly?”
“On the boundaries of Earl’s Court, Fulham and Chelsea.”
“A fashionable part of the city. One of my buyers owns a club there.”
She nodded. “Lots of the best shops and clubs are nearby. But the main reason I chose it was because of its close proximity to the restaurant my father manages.”
“Who manages the other two?”