Chapter Eight

When Camille came back from Lake Tahoe after Labor Day, fresh from the relaxing weeks with her old pals, she felt young and carefree again. It had been good to get away. But within the hour that she got home, she could sense that something was different. She didn’t know what it was, but her father was very quiet. He hardly spoke to her at dinner, went to bed early, and on several mornings, he had left for work before she got up. There was a sudden distance between them that had never been there before, and no explanation for it. He had no reason to be angry at her, and he didn’t seem as sad as before. She wondered if he begrudged her the time she took to see her friends at the lake. But it wasn’t like him to be resentful, and he’d encouraged her to reconnect with her old classmates and spend time with people her own age. He said that he knew her mother would have wanted her to.

He was acting strange, and she eventually put it down to the anniversary of her mother’s death that was looming and upsetting them both. She could think of no other reason for his being so disconnected from her. She kept thinking back to what had been happening a year earlier, as her mother drifted away like a leaf on a stream, carried away from them inexorably. She didn’t want to upset her father more by talking about it, but she sensed that it was tormenting him every day, it was distressing her too.

He was busy with the harvest, which was better than ever. Their crop of grapes had exceeded all expectations that year. And on the actual anniversary, they went to church together in the morning, and then to the cemetery to leave flowers for Joy on her grave, and they both cried as they hugged each other, and then went to work.

Camille had been working on marketing ideas that she wanted to share with him, but he was distracted and this didn’t seem like the right time. She decided to wait a few weeks until he felt better, and had bounced back a little from the anniversary, which had rocked them both.

Christophe was biding his time too. And Maxine was busy packing up her belongings in order to give up her house and move into the château, after he told Camille their news. They were each playing a waiting game of their own.

Christophe let two days go by after Joy’s anniversary date, and then suggested to Camille that they have lunch out of the office. If he took her to a restaurant, it was always for dinner. He either worked through lunch, met with clients or distributors, or had lunch with other vintners. He never took his daughter out in the middle of the day, and she thought it odd when he offered it, but she thought it might be a good time to bring up her new promotional ideas for their wines. She wanted to expand into all the new areas she could and had been working hard on it.

He took her to a deli in Yountville, where they ordered sandwiches and sat in the garden at a small table. Camille saw that he wasn’t eating. He kept playing with his sandwich, and finally he looked up at her. There was no point delaying telling her the news. It was happening, and she had to know about it. He couldn’t wait any longer. He and Maxine had set the date, they were getting married in less than two weeks. She had extended her rental for as long as she could, and she had to move in with them the following weekend. He had tried to make room in his closets for her, and he had had Raquel move Joy’s clothes in boxes to the attic, and asked her not to tell Camille. He knew that the adjustment process would be difficult, but in the end they would all be happier than they were now.

He felt clumsy as he started to tell her, and continued to beat around the bush.

“I’m confused. What are you saying, Papa?” she asked him practically. She was very much like her mother that way, simple, straightforward, uncomplicated, and direct. “You want to make changes in the house? What kind of changes? Like construction? Why? Everything is fine the way it is, and moving things around will make a mess.”

He started over, and this time, he mentioned Maxine, and how much he enjoyed her company. He said what a good person she was, and how she’d been victimized after her last marriage, and had been driven out of her home by her stepchildren. Camille wondered if that was true, but she didn’t comment, and she didn’t like hearing how much he enjoyed being with her. She still thought that there was something sneaky about her, but she didn’t see her that often. She had no idea that he had spent every night with her while Camille was in Tahoe, and she had no inkling that several times she had stayed at the château. Even Raquel didn’t know.

“I’m glad you like her, Papa,” Camille said politely, still wondering where he was going with the conversation. And finally, there was no way to avoid it any longer. He had to force the words out of his mouth.

“Camille, I know this may come as a shock to you. In fact, I’m sure it will, but Maxine and I are getting married.” She stared at him, unable to make a sound for a moment, as her eyes filled with tears, and he felt his stomach flip over as he watched his daughter’s face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, as he touched her hand. “It won’t change anything between us. Nothing could ever do that. And she doesn’t want to come between us either. But I love her, and I don’t want to sneak around, or see her in secret. I want her to live with us. I’ve been so lonely without your mother. I need a wife. I don’t want a girlfriend, or to start dating. I want the kind of life we had with your mother. And Maxine deserves a respectable situation too. So we’re getting married.” He felt stronger after he said it, despite the look on Camille’s face.

“When?” she managed to croak out as she stared at him in disbelief. It took courage for him to say the next words.

“Next week. There’s no reason to wait any longer. She had to give up the house she’s been renting. And I don’t want to wait. It’s been a year since your mother…I didn’t want to say anything to you until after the anniversary.” She knew now why he had been so strange for the past few weeks. He was waiting to tell her this news, and must have been nervous about it, so he hardly spoke to her, except at work.

“When did you decide this?” Camille asked, as tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her napkin. Her sandwich was untouched too. He had stopped her in her tracks with what he said.

“About a month ago. We’ve been seeing each other over the summer.”

“But you hardly know her,” Camille tried to reason with him. They had met in March. It had been seven months.

“We’re adults, we know what we want. We’ve both been married before. I hope you try to get to know her. I think you’ll come to love her if you do. She’s a good woman.” Camille didn’t believe that about her, but she could see that her father’s mind was made up, and she couldn’t change it. “She’s moving in next weekend. We’ll get married sometime next week. You can be my witness if you want to. But I understand if you don’t.” He had thought of everything, and obviously planned it all with Maxine. And then she thought of something else, with a look of panic.

“What did you do with Mom’s things?” Everything had stayed in Joy’s closets. Neither of them had had the heart to get rid of anything, and until now they didn’t want to.

“I had Raquel put it all away neatly in boxes in the attic. I saved it all for you.” It was the only good news she’d heard since she sat down to lunch. At least he hadn’t thrown her mother’s things away. She wondered if Maxine would have. “We’re going to Mexico for two weeks, for a honeymoon, and after that everything will go on just as it is now.” But she knew that wasn’t true. With Maxine living with them, as his wife, everything would change. It was inevitable, no matter what he promised her.

“What about her two sons? Are they moving in with us too?”

“They’re coming for Christmas. One is working, and the other one is in school. They’re not moving here. But her mother is,” he added. “She’s a little old lady, she’s eighty-seven years old, and we were thinking about putting her in the cottage we never use.” It was the cabin where he had lived with Joy while they built the château. It had been Maxine’s suggestion to put her mother there, and if they could decorate it decently, improve the heating system, and put in new insulation, Christophe thought it was a good idea. He was planning to ask Cesare to oversee the renovation. He hadn’t told him about it yet either, so Camille didn’t inadvertently hear it from someone else.

“You mean the one behind the château?” Camille looked shocked at the idea, but her father nodded. “It’s freezing and the place is a mess.” It had been used as a storage facility for years. “You can’t put an old woman there,” she said decisively. “She must really hate her mother to move her into the cottage,” Camille added in an acid tone, but she hadn’t objected to his plans. She hadn’t gotten up and stomped off. She loved him too much to do that. She wanted him to be happy, just not with Maxine. But he had made his choice, and now she had to live with it. “Don’t you think you should wait a little longer, Papa?” she asked, pleading with him, and he shook his head. He knew that Maxine wouldn’t have waited if he hadn’t proposed to her, and would have moved away when her lease was up, or so she said. And waiting to marry for six months more, or a year, wouldn’t make any difference. He was sure of what he wanted, and Camille would adjust in time, when she got to know her.

“I’m going to have Cesare work on the heating in the cabin, and put in new insulation and clean it up. We can make it comfortable for her mother,” he said, and Camille nodded, speechless with grief.

They sat at the table for a little longer, and both of them gave up the pretense of eating. She threw both their sandwiches away when they left the restaurant. And for the first time since her mother’s death, she didn’t go back to the office. She just couldn’t. She wanted to go home and look around on her own. She felt as though she was losing her home to Maxine. And she was even more afraid that she would lose her father to her. He was totally under her spell. Everything Camille had feared about her had turned out to be true. She was a clever, conniving woman. And Camille could see how naive her father was being. He saw no motive behind Maxine wanting to marry him so quickly, no downside and no risk, although he’d been working on a prenuptial agreement with his lawyer for the past two weeks, and had asked him to draw up a new will. Maxine had said she’d sign whatever he wanted. She wasn’t asking him for anything. The only thing she had balked at was giving him her financial statement. She said it was embarrassing. All she had was what was in her bank account, and she had so much less than he did. She had no property and no investments, and had never pretended that she did. She also had no income, and she had offered to work at the winery if he wanted her to, which he had said he didn’t. He had all the staff he needed, and Camille, who had been perfectly trained by her mother. Maxine had no experience running a business. She had run their homes for both of her husbands, and done some modeling as a young girl. She had never pretended to have more than she did, and he respected her for it. She said that she had only what was left of the money her stepchildren had paid her to buy out her share of their father’s estate, and they had paid her very little. She had been living on it for the past year, and she said she was going to bring her mother and sons over. She didn’t expect Christophe to pay for that too, it was enough that he was going to support her. He didn’t want her to work, and in fact would prefer it if she didn’t. She was an elegant, beautiful, intelligent woman, and a wonderful companion for him. Joy had always been a worker, and had a head for business, but Maxine was an entirely different breed of woman.

When Camille walked into the house after their fateful lunch, she tried not to imagine the house with Maxine in it. She sat in her mother’s office for a little while, and her dressing room, all the familiar places that Camille associated with her. And now everything was going to change. She lay on her bed and cried for the rest of the afternoon.

Maxine called Christophe as soon as he got back to the office. “How did it go?” she asked, sounding tense. She had been afraid that Camille would try to influence him, change his mind, or ask him to wait another year, and she couldn’t afford to do that. She needed someone to support her and pay her bills, which were mounting up. She had taken a gamble coming to the Napa Valley, and it had paid off. She had been lucky to meet Christophe, and she didn’t want his daughter screwing that up now.

“She’s a very reasonable girl,” Christophe said, sounding somber. And he knew that if he’d had lunch with Sam Marshall instead of his daughter, he would have tried to dissuade him. “This isn’t easy for her, and we’re not giving her much notice. A week from now she’ll have a stepmother, and she hardly knows you, but she wants me to be happy. This is an enormous leap of faith for her.” And he knew it was the measure of how much his daughter loved him, that she was willing to accept his decision, whether she agreed with it or not. “Maybe we should have waited a little longer,” he said sadly, remembering her face at lunch and the tears running down her cheeks. Maxine’s heart nearly stopped as he said it. “But I really don’t want to. I want us happily married, and tucked in at the château,” he said, smiling, thinking of Maxine and not his daughter. “We’re adults. We know what we’re doing. We don’t need to wait, even if it would have been easier for her. But it will be better for all of us now, living under one roof as a family. She’ll get to know you faster that way too.” Maxine didn’t agree with that, and would have preferred to have him to herself, but she could deal with his daughter if she had to, even if the situation wasn’t ideal.

He stopped to see Maxine on his way home that night. The house on Money Lane was full of boxes and suitcases she was filling with her wardrobe. That was all she was bringing with her. The house had been rented furnished. And she had told him she had left everything in France, and had instructed her mother to sell it for her before she left. Christophe was looking forward to meeting his new mother-in-law, he was sure she was as elegant and gracious as her daughter. And he was also looking forward to meeting her boys at Christmas. They were suddenly a whole family now, with three children and a mother-in-law. His family was growing rapidly.

Maxine could see that he was depressed after his conversation with his daughter, and she rapidly took his clothes off, peeled off her own, and lured him to her bed to distract him and cheer him up, and it was eight o’clock before he realized the time, and said he should go home to Camille. He wanted to see if she was adjusting to the startling news she had at lunch. Maxine wanted him to stay, but he felt obligated to see his daughter. When he got home, he found Camille sound asleep in her bed, fully dressed. He could tell from the tissues around her that she’d been crying when she fell asleep, and hadn’t woken up since. He gently touched her head and leaned down and kissed her and left her where she was. She smiled in her sleep, and he quietly left the room, hoping that she would soon get used to the idea of having a stepmother, and one so different from her mother. He knew he was doing the right thing for himself. All that remained was to convince Camille.

Christophe hadn’t said anything to Sam about his plans, but he felt strange about getting married without telling him. He was one of his oldest friends in the Napa Valley, and Sam had been supportive of him when he lost Joy. He called him at the office the day before they were planning to get married, and Sam was silent for a long moment when he heard the news, and then he let out a sigh.

“I don’t know why, but I had a feeling you were going to do something like that, it’s why I said what I did that night at the ball.” Christophe was just the kind of man who liked being married, and Maxine was an artful woman. Sam was convinced she had preyed on Christophe’s loneliness and desire not to be single for long. He would have preferred to see him choose any woman but the one he had. He was convinced she was after money. Sam could smell it, but one of the things he loved about his friend was his naiveté and willingness to believe the best of everyone. He projected his own kindness and trustworthiness onto all those he met. He was a man of honor, and assumed that others were too.

“We have a lot in common,” Christophe insisted. “We’re both French, we have the same culture, the same upbringing, and she needs someone to protect her. She’s alone in the world, except for her mother and two sons in France. She was treated miserably by her stepchildren after her last marriage, when her husband died.”

“You’re not that French anymore,” Sam reminded him. “You’ve been here for a long time. Have you had her investigated? Did you run a background check on her?” Sam was above all a practical man, and not as trusting as his friend. He had run into gold diggers before, and she seemed like one to him. Maybe even a pro. She had all the earmarks of it, to Sam. But not to Christophe.

“Of course not.” Christophe sounded shocked. “She’s not a criminal. She doesn’t want anything from me.”

“You won’t know that till you’re married to her. I hope you got a solid prenup.” Sam sounded worried.

“Of course I did. We’re not going to need it, but I’m not a fool.”

“So when are you getting married?” Sam asked him, feeling sad about it. Christophe was a great guy, and deserved to find another woman like Joy, not fall into the clutches of a femme fatale and operator like Maxine. Sam was allergic to women like her and steered a wide berth around them, as he had with Maxine.

“Tomorrow,” Christophe said, and at the other end, Sam winced.

“You’re not wasting any time.”

“She was going to leave Napa otherwise, or go back to France.” Not likely, Sam thought to himself, but he didn’t say it to Christophe, who believed every word she said.

“How does Camille feel about it?”

“She’s not happy,” Christophe said honestly, “it’s a big change for her, after her mother. And she likes being alone with me. But she’ll get used to Maxine once she gets to know her. It may take a while. Her mother is moving in with us after we get back from our honeymoon. It might be nice for Camille having a grandmother around. And her boys are coming for Christmas.”

“It sounds like you’re going to have a lot on your hands,” Sam said and didn’t envy him. He much preferred the arrangement he had with Elizabeth, where they had separate lives and came together from time to time, but he knew it wouldn’t have been enough for Christophe, who wanted a real home life, and a wife at his side. Sam was sure she had played her cards well. And now they were all going to be living at the château. It seemed idyllic to Christophe, but not to Sam. And he could easily believe it was Camille’s worst nightmare come true. He felt sorry for her.

“Well, let me know how it’s going. Let’s have lunch when you get back.” Christophe had told him they were going to Mexico for their honeymoon for two weeks. Maxine had wanted to go to Bali, but Christophe wanted to stay closer to home, so she’d agreed. He had a lot to do when he got back, with all the work they normally did after the harvest, crushing the grapes and making the wine. Sam would be busy too.

“I’ll call you,” Christophe promised.

“Good luck, my friend,” Sam said and they hung up. Sam had a heavy heart all day, when he thought about it.

Maxine had moved in over the weekend and Camille had spent two nights with a friend she called out of the blue, so she didn’t have to see it happen. Florence Taylor had been her best friend in high school and they still talked from time to time, or texted. She had lost her mother too and when Camille told her what was happening, Florence was deeply sympathetic and invited her to stay for the weekend. She worked for the Mondavi winery and rented a small house in Yountville. It was almost like old times, as they sat up and talked all night. She tried to reassure Camille, and told her that she and Maxine might become good friends in time. She hadn’t liked her father’s new wife at first either, and now she loved her. But Florence didn’t know Maxine. She was in a class all by herself. Camille couldn’t imagine ever loving her, and when she got home on Sunday night, they had a silent and chilly dinner in the kitchen. Camille went to her room immediately afterward. She was polite to her soon-to-be stepmother, but she couldn’t bring herself to be more than that. And Maxine was syrupy sweet to her whenever Christophe was around, and ignored her when he wasn’t. They retired early to their bedroom that night too.

The next morning, Maxine came down the main staircase while Christophe and Camille waited for her. She was wearing an ivory satin Chanel suit she’d had sent to the château from Neiman Marcus in San Francisco, with ivory satin high-heeled shoes. Christophe looked awestruck when he saw her. Her hair was swept up in a French twist, and she had put white flowers in it. Camille had worn a simple navy blue dress and flat shoes. And they took one of the winery cars for the drive to City Hall in Napa. Camille had agreed to be her father’s witness, and he had brought Cesare along as the second witness, for Maxine. She chatted with him in Italian, which she spoke fluently, and he looked as mesmerized by her as the groom did. She had a way with men that seemed to bring all of them under her spell, Camille noticed. But to Camille, everything about her seemed so fake. Her smiles at Christophe were canceled by the cold look in her eyes whenever she talked to Camille when he wasn’t around.

The ceremony at City Hall was perfunctory and brief. A judge on duty declared them man and wife, and Maxine beamed, and then Christophe kissed her. She had had one of the gardeners prepare a small bouquet for her, which she handed to Camille during the ceremony, and then carried as they left City Hall, and Camille noticed that she called herself Countess Lammenais now, which she wasn’t since Christophe was not a count, and Maxine had acquired the title when she married her last husband and lost it when she remarried. But even in the first few minutes after the ceremony, she made it clear that she intended to hang on to the title. And Cesare continued to address her as “Countess,” with a look of reverence. Christophe didn’t seem to notice and was floating on a cloud, as he kept kissing Maxine and hugging his daughter, who had a heavy heart thinking of her mother.

Camille had fought back tears all through the ceremony, and felt like she was suffocating in the car on the way to lunch. She had kissed her father, and congratulated the bride, and the final ignominy was having to experience it all with Cesare, while he was visibly impressed by the false countess and used her title in almost every sentence.

The four of them had lunch on the terrace at the Auberge du Soleil in Rutherford, and he was relieved that Cesare and Maxine were so congenial. At least he would not have to referee a war between them, as he had with Joy. Maxine actually liked him.

Christophe had invited Sam to lunch at the last minute, but he said he was busy and couldn’t come, which was just as well. When they were together, you could sense Sam’s dislike for Maxine coming through his pores. He was never good at concealing what he felt, nor did he try. He had turned the lunch down for that reason. He knew he couldn’t hide his distress at his old friend marrying Maxine, whom he considered a clever predator.

Getting through lunch was almost more than Camille could bear. She felt like she was going to be sick on the way back to the château in the car. Mercifully, the bridal couple spent the night in San Francisco, so they could get to their early flight to Mexico on time the next day. It was a relief when she saw them back out of the driveway, in one of the vineyard vans, driven by Cesare, who had become Maxine’s lackey overnight. As much as he and Joy had hated each other, he appeared to adore Maxine, which was a relief to Christophe, but felt like a final betrayal to Camille.

Camille waved as the van disappeared, and her last vision of her father was him kissing Maxine again, which he seemed to do constantly. Maxine was always wrapped around him like a snake. It was going to be peaceful to be alone in the house for the next two weeks without them, and she used the time to stay late at work, get a start on new projects, and develop a plan for Internet marketing of wedding events to show her father when he got back. She knew he was going to be busy with the post-harvest work. And Maxine’s mother was arriving only a few days after their return.

Camille called Florence Taylor to thank her again for letting her stay, told her about the wedding, and expressed her distrust of Maxine again. Florence told her to stay in touch, and Camille got back to her busy days, which left her no time for anything except work. As a kindness to her father and stepmother, Camille checked on the cottage. The vineyard workers had been working on it at Cesare’s direction to get it ready for Maxine’s mother. She found several things lacking, and had a comfortable chair moved in, a better couch, more lamps, a rug they were storing and had never used, and some extra space heaters to make sure that it was warm enough for such an old woman. In the end, it looked rustic but inviting, with a big red hooked rug in the kitchen, several small blue ones in the bedroom, which was barely big enough for the bed and headboard, and she had the gardeners clean up the area around the house itself. There was a chicken coop not far from the cabin, a vegetable garden, and a small barn that hadn’t been used in years.

The cottage was sweet and had a Hansel and Gretel quality to it, particularly after Camille put the finishing touches on it, but she couldn’t understand why Maxine didn’t put her elderly mother in the guest room in the main house with them. It seemed dangerous to put someone so old in a tiny house all by herself. What if she fell at night when she went to the bathroom, or stumbled over the tree roots in the garden? Eighty-seven seemed ancient to Camille, who had never known anyone that old, and had never had grandparents of her own, since both her parents had lost theirs before she was born. And she was sure that the hens in the chicken coop would disturb her, unless she was too deaf to hear them. She expected Maxine’s mother to be frail, given her age, but she had approved the cottage for her.

Getting the cottage ready gave Camille something to do on weekends, and it looked like a doll house when her father and Maxine got home. They were happy, relaxed, and amorous. They said they had spent two weeks on the beach and at the pool, drinking margaritas, when in fact they had spent most of the two weeks in bed, indulging their insatiable passion for each other, but of that Camille was unaware.

The night they came home, after Cesare drove them from the airport, Camille brought her father up to speed on what had happened at the office. On the whole, everything had gone smoothly despite a minor argument with Cesare, which she told him while Maxine unpacked their suitcases, and Camille showed him the cottage, and he was touched by all that she had done for an old woman she didn’t even know, which was typical of Camille. She had her father’s kind heart and her mother’s head for business. Maxine followed them out to the cottage after a while, and was surprised when she saw the cozy cabin that Camille had transformed. But instead of grateful, she looked annoyed.

“Why did you bother? My mother doesn’t need all that, she’s used to living in a small Paris apartment.” Maxine’s financial history was still a mystery to Christophe, and he had assumed that her mother had a little money, which she lived on. “It’s very pretty,” she conceded, when Christophe thanked Camille for her effort, but Maxine went back to the château after a few minutes, and didn’t look pleased about it. As far as she was concerned, having her mother there was going to be an obligation and a headache, not a pleasure. She was an only daughter, her mother was out of money, and Christophe had very generously offered to bring her over and have her live with them, so Maxine didn’t have to fly to Paris regularly to check on her, given her age. She said that her mother would prefer to be on her own, was very independent, did her own cooking, and wouldn’t be a bother to them. He considered it part of his life with Maxine now, as well as being a good stepfather to her two sons, who were coming for a month at Christmas.

Camille didn’t see her stepmother again that night. Maxine had retired to their bedroom before she and her father got back from their walk. He kissed her lovingly on the forehead, and Camille went to her own room, wondering about Maxine’s strange reaction to the cottage Camille had gone to so much trouble with, to please her. Her final pronouncement on it was that it was “much too nice for my mother,” which seemed very strange to Camille.

In three days, Maxine’s mother was due to arrive from Paris. Everything was already starting to change. Strangers were moving in with them. Camille had stepbrothers she’d never even met. And her father had been bewitched by a woman Camille didn’t like or trust. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She had never felt so helpless in her life. The tides were coming in so fast she felt like she would drown.