A Day in the Life

by Bridgid

This was not my concept but much like Steve and Miliies back story, this was something I wrote and now wish to share with you. Enjoy part one but don’t worry too much. Max will be back.

B

Everything matures, eventually and in more ways then one. What happens when the grapes on the vine go beyond their prime time? A simple question to answer, they rot. It should never be allowed to happen to something so beautiful and if Max Skinner saw to it that the sweet orbs were plucked from their life giving vines before the downward spiral began then the result would be something that only got better with age. It might hold true for grapes but what about people? What if they're allowed to crest the hill whose pinnacle is referred to at the prime of life? Max was at that point. He was at the peak of his existence and it seemed like things were still looking up.

Today Max Skinner would be talking to an American journalist who was making a documentary on the wine industry. His name was Arthur Woodward and he’d completed several segments already including footage and interviews from such places at the Napa Valley of California and the seasonal yet significant wineries of upstate New York. Next he explored Hunter Valley, Australia’s most notable wine region. He’d even been to the Praskoveya Winery in Russia but he saved the best for last. Provence.

"Ludevine. They’ll be here any minute. It’s hot today perhaps we’ll have a pitcher of lemonade on the veranda."

"Maxie Maxie Maxie ! You’re not going to treat them to something from the vines no?"

"We’ll get to that my dear but I think we’ll start with something shall we say… refreshing. "

"Okay boss." The fortyish beauty was always singing and today was no exception. Max would be arsed to smile until she turned her back but Ludevine knew the truth. She probably knew Max better then he knew himself. She gained her sixth sense about the man way back when he was a lad spending his summer holiday here with his dear uncle Henry. He wore the façade of a man whose stress had subdued the curious intelligent lad who learned the finer things in life from his liberal minded uncle but that boy still dwelled in him somewhere, somewhere under all of the too stressed pinstripes, perfect coif and pointed shoes.

Max rolled his left shoulder. It was sore today but nothing a little paracetamol wouldn’t fix. He sat at the shaded table on the run down balcony of the chateau and fingered a thick fragrant cigar out of his breast pocket. The aroma of the Cubano reminded him of a time when his uncle taught him to inhale the harsh result of a lit tip and exhale slowly so he could taste the underlying sweetness of the hand rolled beauty. Uncle Henry found ritual in everything from finding the hidden vanilla taste in a glass of the chateau’s vintage to the beauty of a summer sunset in Provence.

"Oh Henry. I’m so sorry." Max rumbled as he slid the cigar back into his pocket.

"Are you talking to me Maxie?" Ludevine asked in her melodious voice as she set her tray down on the table. She swept one of the glasses off the tray and filled it from the ice cold pitcher before offering it to him.

Max managed a slight smile as he took it from her. "No mon ami. I was having a conversation with myself."

‘Then..." She pinched his cheek as she’d done time and time again. "..You couldn’t be talking to a nicer person."

Her statement culled a laugh from him. "If you only knew, Ludevine. "

"Maxie my boy, I know. Now, I’ll go work on this evening’s meal. Fanny will be home in two hours and there will be no cooking for her tonight. Tonight is a special occasion. No?"

"You know it is. Tonight I’m going to ask her to be my wife. Do you think she’ll say yes, Ludevine?"

"If she doesn’t Maxie, I will."

"Silly woman. You’re already married or I’d have snatched you up a long time ago."

Exiting in a flurry of giggles and another happy song, Ludevine left Max Skinner there to wait for his anticipated guests. A month ago he’d have looked at this interview as a way to bolster his sale of the chateau but things had changed recently. He fell in love with Fanny Chenal and by his reckoning she loved him back. There’s an investment he could take to the bank. Priceless

"We’re going to be late damn it. Which way do we go?" Arthur Woodward threw his hands up in disgust. Alt least in America you could read the damn road signs. His driver and photographer Rory Brooks scratched his head and raised his shoulders.

"Damned if I know. Maybe we should just ask someone."

"How’s your French Rory? Brushed up on it lately?"

"I can say crepe and parfait. They’re both French words right?"

"Asshole. Just take a right. I hope this Skinner fellow is patient. I really want to get this segment done today. The less time we spend on it the more time we’ll have to play with …Both men sang together "The girls in France who don’t wear no underpants." Laughing like the idiots they were Rory took the right fork in the road and they proceeded on.

Rory being a photographer found it difficult to keep his eyes on the road as they passed by vast fields of lavender and expanses of sunflowers with color so vivid they nearly erased the fragrance but not quite. Each time he blinked there was something new to see almost as if the borrowers were teasing him by replacing one purple field with a yellow one then replacing that with a rolling rise of symmetrical vines whose fruit hung like amethyst gems from their emerald vines.

"No wonder you saved this place for last Artie. It’s magnificent. It’s feast for the senses. I don’t think I have enough film." Slowing down he raised his camera and snapped a picture of a young woman on a bicycle as she passed in the opposite direction.

"Bonjour!" she called out with a smile

"Bonjour to you, mademoiselle." Rory replied "I wonder if she’s wearing underpants. You think she heard me? "

"Not a chance. Save the film Rory. We’ve got to get some stills of Skinners chateau along with the video. "

"Speaking of Skinners chateau, I think we’re there." Rory slowed the car as the familiar looking gate came into view. It looked just like the pictures Artie had shown him earlier. Turning into the drive he parked the rented Peugeot behind a car that made him scratch his head. "What the hell is that?"

‘It’s a smart car. We could have rented one but I didn’t favor the idea of having my knees extracted from my nostrils.’

"I guess the teenagers around here never heard of parking. I’d be more worried about having my dick extracted from my nose, then again..

"Jesus Christ Rory, don’t even go there!" Artie scowled as he reached to the back seat to fetch his briefcase. "Get your stuff out of the trunk, I’ll go knock on the door, let them know were here."

Max saw them arrive. He stood and moved to the railing of the veranda. "Bonjour. Hello. You must be the journalist I’m expecting. Come around the side and up the steps."

"Mister Skinner I’d assume?" Arthur looked up at the man who didn’t quite look like he’d expected.

"In the flesh."

A few moments later the two Americans were cresting the stairs huffing and puffing a little from the combination of the heat and the heavy equipment they carried. Arthur extended a hand to Max.

"Pleased to meet you Mister Skinner, I’m Arthur Woodward and this is my partner Rory Brooks."

"How do you do gentleman. Sit down. We’ll start here if you don’t mind. Would you like a glass of lemonade? Ludevine, whom I’d like to call the housekeeper but she’s actually more of a friend to me, makes the best lemonade." He was already pouring before either of the men answered. ‘It’s unusually warm today.’ Max set the pitcher down rather abruptly. "I’m sorry. I’m a tad bit sore today. I’ve been playing tennis and I believe I’ve managed to stretch some muscles that haven’t been used in a while."

Arthur finished pouring the beverage for him and the three men sat down. "I’d like to thank you for this chance to include your place in our documentary. If you don’t mind we’ll get right too it. Rory will be taking some still pictures of you as we talk if you don’t mind."

"Not at all and please call me Max."

"Okay great then we’ll get right to it. Max I understand you were an investment expert in London prior to coming here. Rumor has it that you were ruthless. "

"Believe half of what you hear. I think you should put credence into the rumor though." Max smiled as he wiped a bit of sweat from his brow.

"Are you okay Max? You look a little pale."

"I’m fine. London has a much cooler climate and even though I spent a good deal of my childhood here it’s been a while since I’ve been back."

Rory snapped some random pictures of Max before turning his camera on the grounds. With the help of the zoom lens he could see the woman on the bicycle who’d passed by earlier and he captured her image again.

"How did you come to be here now?" Artie asked as he scribbled some notes down on his tablet.

Max shifted in his chair. He sat back and rubbed his upper arm guarding it slightly. Taking a deep breath he exhaled slowly before answering. "My uncle Henry passed away and left it to me. It was my intent to turn it over quickly for a profit but I’ve had a change of heart. "

"I am sorry for your loss." Artie paused for a bit before going on. "What precluded your change of heart?"

""Thank you. The answer to that is simple. I can sum it up in one word. Love."

"Love?" Artie cocked a brow. "Can you elaborate a little bit?"

"Of course. You see it’s a word I’d forgotten for the longest time. You can’t love someone or something and go about stripping it bare. If I had any feelings for the lab rats who toiled in the businesses I raided financially do you think I’d have succeeded?" He shook his head. "If I’d have remembered the love of this place that I felt as a child do you think I would have considered selling it? No. I forgot what it was like to care about anything. I had one thing on my mind and it was me. My profit, my pleasure and my standing in the business world took precedence over everything else. "

"You sound to me like you’ve had an epiphany."

"You could say that. There were a lot of occurrences that brought me to this point. My partner in the firm took advantage of my absence and gave me a little dose of my own medicine. I taught him well." Max looked down almost as if he were ashamed to admit it. "A young woman arrived from the States shortly after I got here and she claimed to be Uncle Henry’s daughter. I knew from the moment I looked into her eyes that it was true. She had the same spark that I’ve seen so often in him but I did my best to discredit her potential claim on the estate. Why? I’ll tell you. It was greed, pure and simple greed." He raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s and there was affirmation in his voice as he spoke on. "She taught me something though. She taught me that there was far less importance in the material gatherings of life and more significance in the heart and soul of the people who come into your existence. Christie may be young but she’s got an old soul I think. You’ll meet her before the day is done. I believe she’s out in the vineyard with my associate Charlie." Clearing his throat, Max took a sip of the lemonade and found it hard to swallow.

"Are you sure you’re okay to go on Max? We could postpone this until tomorrow if you like."

"I’m fine. I’ve postponed so many things in my life already you know? I didn’t come to see Uncle Henry for years and I’ve missed much. I never settled on one woman and nearly cost my chances of having a family and a home but its all changed now. You’re about to meet the woman who’s made the latter possible." Some of the color returned to Max’s face as he saw Fanny get off her bike and lean it up against the fence. God she was beautiful, dark haired, dark eyed with a body that belied her taste for rich food and fine wine. She waved up at Max as she clutched a few sunflowers she’d harvested to her chest.

"Bonjour cheri!"

"Hello love. Come up here please. There are some people I’d like you to meet."

"Okay Max. I’ll be right there." Taking a rather obnoxious sunhat from the basket of the bike she pressed it on her head and waltzed her way up to join the group.

"Hello my darling." Max stood and kissed her cheek as she moved up to him. "These gentlemen are from an American television network and they are doing a documentary on winemaking. I was just telling them about you. Fanny Chenel this is Arthur Woodward and the young man with the camera is Rory Brooks."