Skinner: Bouquet

(The direct continuation of Skinner: Finding Ground)

By Atonia Walpole

Part 1:

Aubrey Duncan sat down to breakfast with his youngest daughter Penny. “Have you talked to her? How did it go?”

“She’s strangely quiet about the whole day, Daddy, so I’m thinking it went well.”

“It’s a start, Penny. Sometimes these things take awhile to get off the ground.” Aubrey opened his newspaper and folded it to a section he wanted to read.

“I hope it gets off. I’d really like to see her happy again.”

“Yes, so would I and I think Max Skinner is the perfect match for her.”

“He’d be a good catch for anybody and the fact that he now owns La Siroque has nothing to do with it, does it, Daddy?”

“Absolutely not, Penny.” He absently cut into his breakfast ham.

Penny smirked and sipped her orange juice.

Connie almost turned into La Siroque when she passed the entrance on her morning bike ride. She thought she must be crazy. One day with the man and she was ready to see him again. There was something about him that stayed with her all night and was still there this morning.  She wondered what that could possibly mean. Was she ready for a relationship again? He was certainly different from anyone she’d ever known and she did want to know him better. She turned at the crossroads and pedaled back, wondering if he had chickens in his bedroom this morning. He’d been so cute in his pajamas and singlet. He had a way about him that tugged at her heart.

He’d been forever getting to sleep the night before and the sun streaming into his bedroom had a hard time waking him up. He still wasn’t fully awake when he sat up on the side of the bed. It was all Connie’s fault. He hadn’t expected that soft kiss and once given it couldn’t be taken away. It stayed with him all night.

He flopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A knock on his door brought him up again.

“Max, you are ok?” Ludivine stuck her head in the door. “It is late for you to be in bed.”

“I’m alive, Mme Duflot…coffee, please.”

“I will make it now. You coming down?”

“Yes.” He thought about the magical trays of coffee that appeared in the House of Four Seasons. You didn’t even have to get out of bed. He rolled over, catching a pillow in his arms and buried his face in it, wishing it was warm and female.

“They will begin tomorrow morning to harvest the grapes.” Duflot caught Max as he was walking toward his car.

“You’ve worked it all out with Duncan’s man?”

“Yes, as we have done for the past five years. But, Max, you must look at this arrangement. I am afraid your uncle did not care very much the last few years of his life.”

“What do you mean, Duflot?”

“Well, he got a good price for the grape but it is not right what is happening to them.”

“They’re made into wine. What else can happen to them?”

“Yes, but the wine, Max, is what you must look at. Your uncle, he got his table wine at no charge for the making but Duncan, he makes a fortune from these grapes.”

“What he does with the grapes after he buys them is not our concern, Duflot. They are his grapes. Henry got a good price. I’ve seen the books.”

“Ha! Duncan makes his special wine and gets ten times that amount.”

“Ten times?” Max thought about the wine he’d tasted at Chambord made from blended grapes. “It’s too late this year to do anything different but I will look into it.” Yes, he would but not now. Now he was off to the post office and to the notaire Auzet about his uncle’s bank account.

Late that afternoon  he got a call from Toni. “Hi, Max, you’ve been on my mind for a few days and I thought I’d call and make sure you’re okay.”

“Toni…it’s good to hear your voice. I’m okay now. I had a few five year old moments but I passed that. I actually took a woman out all by myself for a tour of the area. She lives here on the next estate over.”

“Good for you, Max! Now that’s moving along. Did it go well? I mean, did you…are you…”

“Did I get her in the sack? No, but the future looks good.”

“Funny we should be talking about this but you need someone, Max. I know you do.”

“You’re right I do, Toni. I’m tired of waking up by myself every morning. Did you…I know this is going to sound strange, but I actually asked you for help yesterday. You didn’t hear it, did you?”

“If I say yes then you will be calling on me all the time. Just say I felt you needed something, okay?”

“All I can say is thanks. How are you, Toni, and little Terry?”

“Getting fat Max. I look like I swallowed a beach ball. Terry is upstairs painting the nursery blue today.”

“He’s getting ready for his son. It is going to be a boy, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. We had an ultrasound done and it’s definitely a boy. I just wanted to check on you, Max. Good luck with everything.”

“Thank you, love.” The bond was still there, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to send him the little jolt he needed.

And speaking of jolts, he’d been happy to find out his uncle’s account was not in the red as he’d feared. The chateau held its own but he now understood why major repairs had not been carried out. He would have to dig into his own pocket for that.
 

He had to start digging sooner than he thought. The next morning when he ambled into his bath and turned on the hand-held shower, cold water puckered his skin. He quickly washed and jumped out, drying and wrapping himself in his uncle’s robe. Downstairs he found Mme. Duflot heating water on the gas stove for washing up.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was no hot water?”

“How do I know you don’t know, Max?”

He was having a difficult time trying to contact anyone by phone. For one thing the local French did not come over well on his phone and he had a hard time understanding what was being said. He got the gist of it. No one was coming out today.

Mme. Duflot brought his coffee and breakfast out onto the table where he was still trying to warm up in the sunshine.

He thought he was making progress. Someone he called spoke English. “At Chateau Siroque, the boiler is not working. I have no hot water.”

“Yes, you have no water?”

“Hot water, no boiler.”

“You need boiler to make hot water.”

“Yes, I know. I need a new boiler.”

“You have to go to Marseilles.”

“I have to go to Marseilles for a boiler? You can’t just order it?”

“You can go if you want but we can order it.”

“How long does it take?”

“Depends if they have it.”

Max hung up, frustrated. He would have to go to Gordes and see someone about a boiler, which meant he would have to go back down into the bowels of the chateau  to see exactly what he had now with a torch because the wiring to the overhead light was so frayed he was afraid to turn it on.

As he drove to Gordes he thought about what Duflot had told him about the special wine and the ten times the cost of the grapes. A new boiler was going to cost him a necessary piece of change.  He thought he might need to have a talk with Aubrey Duncan and find out exactly was going on.

It was market day in Gordes and Max wound his way through the crowds, trying to find the boilermaker’s establishment. Having completed his business with little hope of ever seeing new boiler this year, he walked through the market, picking up bits of this and that.

“Don’t buy tomatoes.”  Max turned to see Connie with her shopping basket.

“Connie!” His face lit up. “Why shouldn’t I buy tomatoes?”

“Because we have too many and they are going to go to waste. I’ll bring you some by in the morning.”

“I’ve missed your croissants.”

“Mme. Duflot makes croissants.” She looked up at him.

“I’ve missed the delivery person.”

“Have you?” She picked up some figs and smelled them. “She will be back on duty tomorrow.” She smiled and moved off.

“What is she doing today?”

“Shopping and that is serious business. I don’t need distractions.”

“Am I a distraction?”

“Definitely a distraction.”

Part 2:

“In answer to the question you have not asked me; no, I was not trying to cheat your uncle. He knew exactly what I’m doing and encouraged it. He simply was not interested. You knew him better than I. Did he ever take winemaking seriously?” Aubrey Duncan asked.

“Yes, he did and I remember he produced excellent wines. There are still bottles in the cellar. I will admit it’s been ten years since I’ve been out here and so I can’t speak for those years but I do know prior to that he was a vintner.”

“Perhaps as his health declined he became less interested. You sampled the wine and I believe you enjoyed it.”

“Yes, I did. Tell me about it in terms I can understand.”

Aubrey chuckled, “We only make 1000 cases a year, sometimes a few more, but that’s an average. It sells for a 100F each.”

“That’s 10,000F.”

“No Max, 100F per bottle. There are twelve to a case. It’s illegal to sell it on the market and so it’s sold at auction or to certain family-owned restaurants.”

“And meanwhile La Siroque was crumbling around his feet.”

“It was his to crumble and, frankly, you had shown no interest.”

“That may be true but I’m interested now. It’s too late to do anything about it this year, Aubrey, but next year…”

“We’ve got time to figure all that out, Max. Who knows, maybe we’ll join forces? I’ve got all the latest equipment here and make a good wine at Chambord but with your grapes we can make it better. La Siroque has a good table wine also. I always sent enough back for Henry’s wants and needs at no cost and I marketed the rest for him. He got a better price for it with my efforts.”

“I noticed that but I didn’t understand what he was doing.”

“Well it’s something to think about for next year. Aw, Max, we’re all family here! I’m not trying to pull something over on you.”

“Family?”

“So to speak. I understand you’re seeing my daughter, Connie, and I want you to know you have my blessings if you think you need them.”

Blessings? He’d only taken her for a bike ride. “Oh, well, thank you.”

He’d hoped Connie would make an appearance but she was not in sight so he drove back to his chateau where the harvest was full on. He watched the young people laughing and calling out to one another for awhile and went back inside.

He hated to think about it but he was going to have to go back to London and move some money around. The thought of his cold flat sent shivers down his back but at least there would be hot water.  Hopefully upon his return he would be able to seriously attack the renovation of the chateau.

He called Bert at his building and had him take care of having the flat cleaned and stocked for his return.  He had a thought stirring around in his head and he also had her father’s blessing.

Max moved things around on his desk for awhile, opened some drawers, emptied them in to a trash bin, generally fooled around trying to work up the courage to call Connie. He’d gotten her cell phone number in Gordes over lunch.

“Oh, hello, Connie," he said as if he’d forgotten whom he was calling.

“Max, I was just thinking about you and wondering if you needed any more tomatoes."

“Tomatoes? Um, no, I don’t think so but, um, I’m going to have to go to London for a few days, maybe as long as a week. Um, I was wondering if, uh, well, if you would, uh, be interested in traveling to London with me?”

“Traveling to London? But I don’t need to go to London.”

“Ah, well…of course you don’t. I just thought that, um…”

“Max, are you asking me to go with you?”

“Well…actually, yes.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I was going to try and book a flight out for Sunday.”

“Sunday, and for a week?”

“Possibly.” He held his breath.

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

Max held his phone away from his ear and looked at it. “You will? That’s, that’s wonderful, Connie. I’ll, uh, let you know the flight arrangements and, Connie, thank you.”

“Thank you for asking me.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Suddenly the flat awaiting him in London took on a whole new look.

Max busied himself around the chateau for the next two days. He was cleaning out years of rubbish, broken furniture, old newspapers, and boxes of papers so old they were falling apart.

It gave him a certain satisfaction at the end of the day to be physically tired and feeling muscles waking up that had been sleeping for way too long. He thought about what Toni said of his body not being as firm as Terry’s. Well, he was working on that now the soft living in London was a thing of the past.  He dusted off his hands and walked to the end of the buildings attached to the house. One was a garage containing the bike and a tractor and various other farm items, the other held the car, a 1958 Austin Healey covered in a dusty tarp. Max had yet to uncover it to see if the seats were still intact.  He had memories of speeding around the countryside next to his uncle in that car. His own rented baby Renault sat outside the garage.

As he hauled the pails of boiling water from the kitchen up the stairs to take his bath he had visions of a new boiler in place, the house cleaned out and spiffed up with a coat of paint here and there. It could with a bit of money spent on it, be a place he could be proud of. He thought about Aubrey Duncan’s estate. It was probably older than his seventeenth century house but it had money poured into it and looked a showplace to Max.

Tomorrow he would be picking up Connie for the trip to London. He was looking forward to her company but a little apprehensive at the same time. They hadn’t…well it hadn’t got that far yet. There was bound to be a bit of awkwardness once they arrived at his flat. One step at a time Max, he told himself and turned out the light and crawled into his bed.

Part 3:

Connie packed and repacked her bag for the last time while her smiling sister sat cross-legged on her bed.

“I wish it was me going.”

“I’m almost wishing it was you, too, Penny. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into with Max.”

“Anything with Max would be wonderful, Connie, and a whole week with him in London...it sounds so romantic.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. There really hasn’t been any romance between us. We spent one day touring around on his bike and lunch in Gordes.”

“I guess you’ll know him pretty well when you return and if there isn’t any romance by then you can turn him over to me.”

Connie gave her sister a look and hoisted her bag off the bed.

Max patted down his pockets, passport, keys, wallet, and carried his bag to the car. He wasn’t taking much as he had a closet full of clothes at his flat.

“Hello, Penny,” Max greeted as he put Connie’s bag in the boot of his car.

“Hi, Max, now if Connie doesn’t like London, send her home and I’ll come stay with you,” she grinned

“I’ll remember that.” He glanced at Connie and opened the car door for her. He had to wait. Aubrey came through the narrow opening with a wide smile on his face.

“Have a good time.” He hugged Connie. “Max, have a good trip.” A wink for Max.

“Thanks, I’m sure we will.” Once he got Connie tucked in the car he hurried around to the other side and got in and buckled up before the staff and field workers could make their way to the courtyard. He hadn’t expected a send off and felt a little embarrassed.

“Sorry about that,” Connie said as he backed and turned around out onto the drive.

“No problem. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed after all that well wishing.”

“I don’t think I will be,” she said quickly and looked out of the passenger window.

“I had no idea you’d come,” he said, stopping at the crossroads before continuing on. “I was so afraid to ask you. I must have sounded a bumbling idiot.”

“No, you didn’t but I was surprised. We don’t even know each other that well.”

“But you came anyway.”

“Yes…because I want to get to know you, Max.”

He let that sink in deep down to his bones and wondered how that was going to happen. If he told her all she would think he was deranged. “I want to get to know you, too. We have a week away to see what we can accomplish.” He reached over and squeezed her hand on the car seat.

Once at the Marigane airport Max turned his car in at the rental desk. No need to pay rental on a car sitting in a car park for a week.

They arrived in London around four o’clock and the warm sun they’d left in Luberon was nowhere to be found. It was gray, damp and cold in October. “Typical London,” Max said as they exited the taxi in front of his building. “Not the best time of year to come.”

“Why did you come?” she asked as they entered the elevator.

“I need to move some money,” he smiled and picked up their bags, carrying them to his door. The flat smelled fresh and clean, evidence Bert had followed through.

Connie entered the flat and noticed immediately that it held his scent. She thought she must find out what it was he wore because he always smelled good.

“This is it. I’ll, uh, put the bags in the bedroom.”  He only had one bedroom that was functional. The other held a loveseat and a desk with his computer equipment.

“It’s very different from the old chateaus. I like it, though.”

“Do you? I always thought it cold.” He walked over to his kitchen area and put a kettle on. “I could do with a cup of tea. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes, it does. I don’t think it’s cold. It’s just…unlived in.”

“That’s true.” He pulled out a white porcelain tea pot and two cups. “I’ve had it for about six years now but I spent all my time working. This was mostly a place to sleep and change clothes.” He checked the fridge for milk and poured some in a creamer.

“Why did you quit, working, I mean.”

“Um, I guess I was just burnt out and when the opportunity came to change my lifestyle, I took it.” He carried a black lacquered tray to the coffee table.

“Thank you, Max, and cookies, too?”

“Biscuits, Connie. You’ve lived here.” He smiled while she poured out the tea.

“Yes, I did for five years. In Camden, I think I told you.”

“You were married then?”

“Yes, I was. I was married for eight years.”

“What happened or do you not want to talk about it?”

“We just grew apart. He was at home here, I wasn’t. I never felt at home amongst his friends. I think if he’d been a different kind of person I would have made more of an effort. All that’s over now. I don’t look back.”

“Neither do I.” Max sipped his tea. He couldn’t look back. There was only forward for him.

“It must have been hard for you to leave your friends here.”

“Not hard at all and, look, I’m already making friends in Provence.”

“I would think it easy for you to make friends. You’re very personable.”

Max had never thought of himself as anything in particular, especially since he’d come out into reality. His character had been closely defined prior to that. Something in him wanted to tell her who he really was and how he’d come to be. He didn’t like the way he had to skirt around things in conversation with her but he reasoned he couldn’t do that, at least not yet. He smiled, “What I want is to get personable with you.” He moved over to the sofa where she was sitting.

“Oh, you do?”

“Um hm, and I thought I’d start with...”

“Oh, that’s a good start, Max.”

ON TO SKINNER: LONDON MAGIC

BACK TO SKINNER: FINDING GROUND

BACK TO SKINNER: COLD REALITY

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE