“There’s always some sort of argument going on.” Hugo shook his head slowly.
“Hi—I’m Mathieu.” The young man twisted free of Juliette’s grip and ran his fingers casually through his hair, a gesture that took Sven’s breath away. He came toward Sven holding out his hand.
“Our son.” Juliette gave a resigned shrug.
“Sven Steen.” Sven shook Mathieu’s hand. “I believe you live in Paris—did you arrive home last night?”
Mathieu looked at his mother, then his father, as if he was working out what to say.
“He doesn’t live in Paris,” Juliette said. “He’s not officially at home, so sometimes he has to hide in the cellar.”
Sven nodded. Realized he shouldn’t ask any more questions.
17
Frederic was already waiting for Bente at an outside table at the wine bar. As soon as he saw her, he stood up and kissed her on the cheek.
“I wanted you to see this place,” he said, waving to a man inside who was arranging wine bottles behind the bar. “I work with them a lot. They have an amazing wine list, and have bought our new lines, the ones I told you about.”
Bente knew that Frederic worked hard to modernize the family vineyard. He wanted to maintain the traditions, but he also liked to experiment with styles and blends.
He waved again to the man behind the bar, who came over to introduce himself as the owner and say hello. He then hurried away and came back with a bottle. Bente recognized the label from Frederic’s family business.
“Our latest blend. You have to try it.”
He spoke intensely about the wine, a classic Bordeaux blend but in a modern style—Cabernet Franc, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon. He looked expectantly at her. She had always appreciated the fact that he valued her opinions on wines, especially the ones he produced. Because she wasgiftedin the field of wine, as he put it.
They clinked their large glasses together, then she inhaled the aroma of juicy, mature, dark cherries. Next came black currants, plums, and a delicate touch of herbs.
She took a sip. The taste reflected the aromas, but unlike a classic Bordeaux, the wine wasn’t harsh, and it had a wonderful, spicy aftertaste.
“Fantastic—it will definitely appeal to the public.” She smiled at him.
He returned her smile. “You think so?”
“It’s complex, but incredibly easy to drink.” She took a larger sip. “This would be perfect for cozy Friday evenings in Sweden. Depending on the price tag, of course.”
Frederic looked pleased. “Good to hear.” Getting a wine into the state-owned Swedish liquor stores would be an achievement, and give Frederic’s business a considerable advantage. The government-run chain placed large orders and was the best buyer imaginable. Frederic liked to discuss the Swedish market and national preferences with Bente.
“So let’s hear it,” she said, putting down her glass.
He looked at her inquiringly.
“The wine bottle,” she clarified.
Frederic sipped his wine, then gazed into her eyes and smiled mischievously, the way he always did when he wanted to do more than just talk. Which irritated her enormously.
“What did you find out about the bottle?”
He took a deep breath and leaned back on his chair. “I might have a good contact you can speak to, but I’m not sure yet.”
“Youmighthave a contact?” She laughed. “So why did you ask me to come here?”
“I wanted to see you.” He tried a winning smile.
His phone rang, and she saw the name on the screen.Emma.
She sympathized with his poor assistant; she knew exactly how it felt to be the one who was kept waiting. After those whirlwind summer months when she was newly in love and had his full attention, when it felt as if she were floating on the pink fluffy clouds drifting over the Seine on summer evenings, Frederic had become increasingly distant. He needed to go back to Bordeaux, while she carried on working at the restaurant.
