The Winemaker's Wife(78)

“Only two,” Grandma Edith said suddenly. “He planned to hide more people, but it was not safe.”

Liv turned to stare at her grandmother, as did everyone else.

“Er, yes,” René said, giving Grandma Edith a confused look. “It sounds as if you have taken this tour before.”

“No,” Grandma Edith said. She glanced at Julien, who was staring straight ahead.

“What is she talking about?” Liv whispered as René resumed speaking.

Julien just shook his head and pressed his lips together.

René gave Grandma Edith a few nervous glances as he told the group that Michel Chauveau was part of an organization that printed a Resistance tract, blew up train tracks, and even reportedly killed a German officer. “So you see,” René concluded triumphantly, “when you drink a glass of Chauveau, you are really tasting heroism in all those bubbles. The Maison Chauveau helped save France.”

“So what happened to him anyways?” asked the tourist in the leggings. “Michel Chauveau?”

“Well,” said René, leaning in conspiratorially. “He died in 1943, leaving his champagne house to his wife, Inès Chauveau, but then she vanished, too. Since then, the Maison Chauveau has been run by a trust set up just after the war by a law firm in Reims.”

“How’d Michel Chauveau die?” asked the tourist in the leggings.

The tour guide cleared his throat. “He was arrested by the Germans, and no one knows quite what happened after that.”

“Well, that’s simply an incomplete answer, young man,” Grandma Edith said, and René turned to her, confusion etched across his face.

“But that’s what’s in the tour guide notes, madame,” he said.

“Grandma Edith,” Liv said, placing her hand on her grandmother’s arm, but the old woman shook her off.

“Michel Chauveau was executed by the Germans in the center of Reims,” Grandma Edith said, her voice shaking. “On the rue Jeanne d’Arc, to be exact, at Gestapo headquarters. He was betrayed, you see, by someone he once thought he loved. Someone who never deserved that love in the first place, I think.”

The cave was silent as everyone looked at Grandma Edith.

“How do you know that, Grandma Edith?” Liv finally asked, her voice low. “You knew him?” She must have, Liv realized. If what the man from the restaurant had told her was true, Michel Chauveau was the husband of Grandma Edith’s best friend.

Grandma Edith’s eyes were full of tears as she looked up at her granddaughter. “Yes, Olivia. Yes. I knew him well.” She turned and strode out of the cave before Liv could reply.

“Madame! You’ll get lost!” René called, starting after her, but Julien put his hand up.

“Let her go,” he said. “She knows these caves.”

René opened and closed his mouth, but there must have been something in Julien’s tone that stopped him.

“I have to make sure she’s okay,” Liv said to Julien, but he just shook his head.

“Let her have a few minutes to herself,” he said. “This is the first time she has been back here in many years. I think she needs to be alone.”

“But . . .” Liv’s mind raced.

Julien glanced at René and then back at Liv. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He turned once more to René. “We’ll see ourselves out. I apologize for the interruption.” He steered Liv out of the cave, and as they walked back to the stone steps, she looked for Grandma Edith, but she had seemingly disappeared.

Aboveground, Julien led Liv quickly through the gift shop and out the front door. Once they were standing outside the main house, she turned to face him. “What is happening here? Why did my grandmother freak out like that?”

“Oh, Liv.” Julien sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but as I’ve said, it is her story, not mine.”

“Then why won’t she tell it?” But the question was rhetorical, and they both knew it.

“Come,” Julien said, taking her hand, “let’s look at the view, shall we?” He led her a few hundred yards from the main house, toward a smaller cottage that appeared well tended. They passed it and stopped at the edge of a hill overlooking the valley. “Grapes,” Julien said, “as far as the eye can see. One day, they will be part of great champagnes that find their way all over the world. It’s incredible when you think of it, isn’t it?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

He smiled. “I’m merely pointing out the beauty of this place. It’s a place your grandmother once loved.”

“And yet she has never in her life mentioned it,” Liv muttered. “You’re sure you can’t tell me what’s going on?”

“I wish I could.”

Liv shook her head, frustrated. “Fine. So what about you?”

“Me?”

“If you can’t tell me my grandmother’s story, what about yours?”

He looked down at her. “My story isn’t so interesting.”

“Will you tell me about Delphine?”

He sighed. “Someday, if you’d like, I will tell you all about her. She was the mother of my child, Liv. I was very much in love with her. There were no problems in her pregnancy, no reason to think she would not be completely fine. But there was a complication in the hospital, and . . .” He trailed off and shook his head. “Well, you know, of course, that she died, and Mathilde lost her mother. I have tried to keep her memory alive for my daughter all these years, and of course she will always be a part of my life. I will always love her.