Page 53 of Blush
Vivian sipped her wine. “Why wouldn’t this book be a bestseller? It has it all: passion, a business empire, love. This is what storytelling should be. Personally, I liked Clementine Duke. She had fabulous parties.”
Clementine Duke, a high-society dame who had a penchant for lovers of a different class, summoned Gino Santangelo to her mansion. Vivian couldn’t help but think about the summons to a mansion that had completely altered the course of her own life.
For weeks after their trip to Château de Villard, she’d thought about the baron. Ironically, once she wanted to be around him, he all but disappeared. The remainder of the weekend was segregated, with Leonard and the baron walking the fields and discussing their new business venture while Vivian and Natasha lounged around the estate, drinking wine and talking about the royal wedding. They both had been obsessively following every bit of news about Princess Diana (whom they both still called “Lady Di”) and both agreed her wedding gown was a bit busy. Vivian felt they might very well become friends. By the time the chauffeured Mercedes whisked them back to the airport, she could almost pretend the surge of nearly violent desire for the baron had never happened.
But back on Long Island, tucked away in her own bed, alone with the thoughts roaming free in the secret corners of her mind, her feelings for the baron were more vivid than they had been in the moment. In her fantasy, the weekend unfolded differently: the horseback riding had not seen them innocently cantering through the fields of Bordeaux, but instead ended with him ravishing her in the stables. Every time she imagined the scenario, she became so worked up she was in a sweat. She lost sleep at night and during the day was plagued by an unease and guilt for betraying her husband even in her imagination. For the first time in a long time, she was the one to initiate sex, and throughintimacy with Leonard she was ultimately able to excise his new business partner from her thoughts.
In the days that followed, Vivian thought long and hard about the way she was raised. She thought about her marriage vows. She thought about her children. She asked Leonard to go with her on a “date” to see the movieThe Four Seasons.
By the time the holidays rolled around, she got her emotional equilibrium back. She could pretend the baron didn’t even exist. Until the day Leonard announced that the baron’s niece, Delphine Fabron, was coming to live with them.
“We are an ocean apart,” the baron said. “And I’m not inclined to spend much time in your country. This is a gift for my American wife, you understand. So having a member of my family on the ground will give me peace of mind. I’m sure you understand.”
Leonard did not understand. And he certainly did not want one of the baron’s representatives “on the ground” with him. But he knew it was a small price to pay; their association with the hundred-year-old Château de Villard gave their fledgling vineyard an instant boost in credibility. The request that they welcome his niece to Hollander was not irrational. And it would have to be accommodated. He would simply have to do his best to keep her from interfering with the way he managed Hollander.
When the baron’s chosen representative arrived on that freezing day in February, it became clear Leonard didn’t have anything to worry about: Delphine was twenty-one years old and, curiously, seemed to have absolutely no interest in the business of winemaking.
Delphine Fabron was a beautiful girl, with long, lustrous dark hair and big blue eyes that were unmistakably sad. The only thing that seemed to lighten her mood was spending time with nine-year-old Leah.
Leah, who was always squabbling with Asher and wanted a sister, was equally as delighted with their exotic new guest.
“She’s so pretty,” Leah kept saying to her mother. “And her accent! Do you think she could teach me French?”
That seemed doubtful; that girl appeared to struggle just to get through each day. Vivian felt badly that their guest was so unhappy, but she and Leonard had their own problems: while they were selling strong on-site and in liquor stores, they were still making very few inroads with New York City restaurants.
Their wholesale rep quit. He was burned out. The obstacles were insurmountable: Sommeliers didn’t know that New York State produced wine, and when they did learn, they were skeptical. Some buyers had tried early vintages and had not been impressed. Part of this was Leonard and Vivian’s fault: they had rushed to market in the early years, their learning curve creating a barrier to quality. Their first season, birds attacked the budding vines, so they picked early to preserve the fruit, but they didn’t allow the sugar content to get high enough.
They made errors with grape varietals: Zinfandel grew wonderfully in California—where Leonard had learned everything he knew—but it did not like the climate on the East Coast. Instead, they needed to focus on wines like Malbec.
Meanwhile, after a month of Delphine hiding in her room or listlessly wandering the house, Vivian finally insisted she accompany her on a trip to town to run errands. The girl slumped silently in the car’s passenger seat, staring out the window like a convict being transported to prison.
“I thought you’d like to see the market and main street,” Vivian said. “When we first moved here—”
“Did you invite me out today so you could break the news that you’re sending me away, too?”
“Sending you away? No. Why would you think that?”
It all came out with a burst of sobs: Delphine’s love affair with her father’s friend, a member of French Parliament. The newspaper article. The press camped out on her parents’ front lawn. Vivian realizedDelphine had not been sent as the baron’s representative on the ground. She had been exiled.
Vivian immediately felt empathy for her. Since her marriage to Leonard, her parents had cut her off financially and barely been in touch except to see their grandchildren. It didn’t feel good to be punished by the people who were supposed to love you just because of your choices—good or bad.
“Delphine, we’re happy to have you here,” she said. “For as long as you’d like to stay.”
When Vivian relayed the information to Leonard, he just shook his head.
“We have to give her something productive to do,” Vivian said.
“She can help Joe out in the field,” Leonard said. “I don’t see what else she could possibly do except get in my way.”
But the more time Vivian spent with Delphine, the more she realized the girl had a surprisingly deep knowledge of wine. Her mother, the baron’s sister, Marie-Élise, had married into another wine family, and Delphine had been raised at her knee, walking the fields and hanging around the tasting room, absorbing every nuance of the art and science of producing great wine.
When she confided in Delphine about the problem with the New York wine market, Delphine said, “The wine managers at these places are all men, right?”
“Of course,” Vivian said.
“Let me try to sell your wine. In my experience, men have a very difficult time saying no to me.”
Delphine had made good on her promise that men could not say no to her; she began visiting Manhattan’s top restaurants in the spring of 1982. With her pedigree and beauty, there were few doors that would not open for her. Within a month she had landed accounts with the Four Seasons, the 21 Club, the Rainbow Room, and Delmonico’s. Only Lutèce said no.
