learning from the old master—Joseph Gardin himself—she must know a trick or two about making wine with these finicky grapes.
“The weather isn’t the only thing giving you trouble,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “But it isn’t too late. I can help, if you’ll let me.”
The way she’d shown up at the house as though she’d been living rough, the ferocity with which she’d stared at him when she learned the vineyard had been sold, the hunger in her eyes now as she waited for an answer—all tore at him as he considered her proposal.
“Unfortunately I was telling the truth yesterday when I said I wasn’t hiring. I can barely afford to pay the two field workers I have now.”
The woman wrapped her shawl tightly around her body, as if guarding herself before she spoke. “Sometimes there is more to making wine than what we can see and measure and taste. That’s the part I can teach you. I can work as your partner. Share with you what I know about making the kind of wine men would pay a ransom for. And in exchange all I require is a voice in the process and a roof over my head. And perhaps some of Grand-Mère’s cooking.”
Jean-Paul smiled at her last comment even as he knew he had to say no. He’d read every book on winemaking he could get his hands on, attended seminars given by the famous Yemeni brothers, and toured the vineyard at Bastien du Monde’s, the most successful winery in the valley. He’d studied all he could about drawing out the subtleties of various grapes. He already knew the science of making wine.
Yet this cat-eyed woman, who claimed with granite confidence she could restore the vineyard’s reputation, had him mesmerized.
He already understood the techniques of the craft, from pruning and planting to pressing and bottling, but could there be some secret to transcending from ordinary to superb? Some ancient wisdom passed down from generation to generation that would always elude him if he turned her away?
He might believe wholeheartedly in his methodology, but even he wasn’t fool enough to ignore how instinct and intuition played their role in the process too. And in his heart of hearts he wanted to make great wine. If she knew even half of Monsieur Gardin’s secrets, and if she was willing to work side by side with him in the field, she’d be worth her weight in coq au vin.
He extended his hand. “All right. Room and board in exchange for your help.”
“Just one more thing,” she said. “I wish to be a silent partner, at least until we get the grapes through veraison. It would be better if certain people didn’t know I was helping you just yet. Or that I was back at the vineyard.”
Ah, she meant Du Monde. He would never admit to eavesdropping, but he’d heard more of her talk with Madame than he’d let on. He could only guess at her reasons for wanting to avoid the esteemed vigneron.
“I should add an addendum then too,” he said, his negotiating skills dull but hopelessly ingrained from his years of law work. “I believe in science and innovation, mademoiselle. I’ve already told the other workers I won’t tolerate the superstitious nonsense they do at the other vineyards. No luck charms, no evil-eye amulets, and none of that widdershins business before stepping into the field.”
She raised one eyebrow at him, and he waited for her to argue like the rest of the workers had. Instead, she swallowed whatever had irked her, nodded her agreement, and held out her hand. With grudging admiration he shook it, feeling her fish-cold skin in his grip as they made their pact.
CHAPTER FIVE
The spine, stiff from neglect, creaked as Elena spread the Book of Shadows open on the worktable.
“Hush,” she said and turned the pages until she found the notes she was looking for. As she read, marking her place as she went, the book finally relaxed and sighed under her trailing fingers. “I missed you too,” she said and continued reading.
Alternating between doubtful frowning and optimistic lip biting, she wrote out a list of possibilities, at least for the first of the vineyard’s hexes she’d identified. She hoped to unravel them all one by one, as if untangling a child’s game of cat’s cradle that had gone horribly wrong. And she had to do so without the new owner suspecting she was using witchcraft.