Page 7 of The Vines Between Us

"Since Claude died. A year before that if you count when he got too sick to help much.

" Hugo bent to examine a vine, his movements automatic, expert.

"I know every meter of this soil, every quirk of our microclimate.

But the business side..." He straightened, looking frustrated. "I can make wine. I can't make money."

"What do you mean?"

"I applied for a small EU sustainability grant last year.

Took me three months to navigate the paperwork, and I still got rejected.

Meanwhile, I know there are programs out there that could help—agricultural innovation funds, rural development money—but I don't know how to access them.

" He gestured toward his modest house. "Claude usually handled all that, and even then he wasn't very good at it. I just worked the vines."

"And the finances?"

Hugo's jaw tightened. "Not great," he replied, before changing the subject. "These Merlot vines are stressed but salvageable. The Cabernet Franc on the eastern slope is in worse shape. You'd need to prune aggressively, probably lose this year's harvest entirely."

"I wouldn't know where to begin," I admitted, my mind suddenly blank as I gazed at Hugo.

He glanced at me, something unreadable in his expression. "You used to know. Henri taught us both, or have you forgotten that too?"

"That was a lifetime ago."

"Was it?" His voice remained neutral, but his eyes held mine for a beat too long.

We continued through the vineyard, Hugo pointing out problems and potential solutions with quiet competence. I tried to focus on his words rather than the way sunlight caught in his hair or how his shirt clung to his shoulders when he reached to demonstrate proper pruning technique.

"The equipment shed is this way," he said, leading me toward a stone building I remembered well. "You'll need to see what's still functional."

Inside, dust motes danced in the shafts of light from the high windows. The familiar smell of oil, earth, and wood enveloped me, triggering a cascade of memories. Henri teaching me to maintain the old tractor. Hugo and I hiding from summer rain, laughing as water dripped from our hair.

Hugo ran his hand along an ancient grape press. "This should still work, with some maintenance. The sorting table needs repairs."

I watched him move through the space with the ease of someone who belonged there. I'd once felt that same belonging, that same connection to this land and its rhythms.

"How do you do it?" I asked suddenly.

He looked up, questioning.

"Manage alone. All of this." I gestured to encompass the endless work of a vineyard.

Something flickered across his face—vulnerability quickly masked. "I don't have a choice. This land is all I have."

The words hung between us, heavy with implication. While I'd been building my corporate career in Paris, Hugo had remained rooted here, carrying on his family's legacy despite overwhelming odds.

"Claude would be proud," I said softly.

Hugo's hands stilled on the equipment he'd been examining. For a moment, I thought I'd overstepped, but then he nodded, a barely perceptible movement.

"Henri was proud of you too," he said. "Always talking about his grandson, the successful businessman."

Shame burned through me. "I abandoned him. Abandoned all of this."

"You had your reasons." His voice was carefully neutral, but the question lingered unasked: What were those reasons? Why had I left without saying goodbye? Why had I never returned until now?

We emerged from the shed into the late afternoon light. The vineyard stretched before us, neglected but still beautiful in its own way. Beyond the stone wall, Hugo's property mirrored ours—struggling, but showing signs of careful attention .

"I should get back," Hugo said, glancing toward his land. "There's still work to do before sunset."

We walked in silence back to the domaine, where our groceries still waited on the steps. Hugo picked up his canvas bag, adjusting it on his shoulder.

"Thank you," I said stiffly. "For the assessment."

He nodded. "If you need help..." He let the offer hang unfinished.

"I'll manage," I said automatically, the same words I'd used at the market.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You always said that."

The simple observation cracked something in my chest. He remembered. Of course he remembered. While I'd spent fourteen years trying to forget, Hugo had carried our shared history with him.

"Hugo—" I started, not knowing what I intended to say.

"Your milk is getting hot," he interrupted gently, nodding toward my grocery basket.

I glanced down, saw the condensation coming off the glass container staining the paper bag. "Right. Yes."

He took a step back, creating distance between us. "Welcome home, Alexandre."

Then he turned and walked away, following the path that would take him to his own vineyard, his own struggles. I watched him go, fighting the urge to call him back, to ask all the questions that burned in my throat.

Instead, I picked up my groceries and retreated into the domaine, telling myself the ache in my chest was just fatigue, not the sharp pain of seeing everything I'd left behind—and everything I might have had if I'd made different choices fourteen years ago.

I couldn't sleep. The scope of Domaine Moreau's deterioration haunted me—every broken trellis, every diseased vine, every piece of failing equipment. At 3 AM, I gave up on rest and did what I always did when facing an impossible situation: I opened my laptop.

The familiar glow of Excel soothed me in a way nothing else could. For eleven years, I'd dissected failing companies, analyzed market conditions, and built strategic plans for corporate recovery. A vineyard was just another business, wasn't it?

I started with what I knew, creating a comprehensive spreadsheet:

DOMAINE MOREAU - SITUATIONAL ANALYSIS

Assets:

- 24 hectares of vineyard (12 hectares salvageable, immediate assessment)

- Historic manor house (needs major repairs)

- Equipment shed with vintage machinery (mostly non-functional)

- Wine cellar with aging infrastructure

- Brand heritage (Moreau name recognized in region)

- Strategic location adjacent to Domaine Tremblay

Liabilities:

- €600,000 outstanding debt to Crédit Agricole

- €85,000 in unpaid property taxes

- €25,000 in utility arrears

- Equipment replacement needed: €150,000 minimum

- Vine rehabilitation: €200,000 estimated over 3 years

I sat back, staring at the numbers. In corporate terms, this was a classic restructuring scenario—too much debt, too little cash flow, aging infrastructure. In Paris, I would have recommended immediate liquidation.

But this wasn't Paris.

I opened a new tab and began researching. Years of market acquisitions experience had taught me to analyze industries thoroughly. What I found about the wine business surprised me .

MARKET ANALYSIS - SAINT-éMILION APPELLATION:

- Land values: €50,000-€80,000 per hectare for prime terroir

- Average production costs: €8,000-€12,000 per hectare annually

- Premium bottle pricing: €25-€150 for established estates

- Tourist market: Growing 8% annually in wine regions

- Corporate consolidation: 15% of family vineyards sold to corporations in past 5 years

I created a competitive analysis, researching every vineyard in the appellation. Domaine Moreau's terroir was exceptional—similar soil composition to chateaux selling bottles for €80+. The problem wasn't quality potential; it was capital and marketing.

I pulled up regional agricultural data, EU subsidy programs, even climate change projections. By dawn, I had a forty-page analysis that would have impressed any corporate board.

STRATEGIC OPTIONS:

Option 1: Liquidation

- Sell to corporate competitors for debt clearance + small profit

- Pros: Immediate resolution, no further risk

- Cons: Destroy 12 generations of family legacy, contribute to corporate consolidation, live with the everlasting guilt of having failed Henri

Option 2: Minimal Rehabilitation

- Focus on 8 best hectares, sell remainder

- Capital required: €425,000

- Break-even timeline: 4-5 years

- Risk level: High

Option 3: Full Restoration

- Rehabilitate entire property, modernize operations

- Capital required: €1,000,000

- Break-even timeline: 7-10 years

- Risk level: Extreme

Option 4: Strategic Partnershi p

- Combine resources with adjacent property (Domaine Tremblay?)

- Shared costs, maintained independence

- Capital required: €600,000 (split)

- Break-even timeline: 5-7 years

- Risk level: Moderate-High

I stared at Option 4. In corporate terms, it was in essence a horizontal merger—two struggling entities combining resources to achieve economies of scale while maintaining separate brand identities.

It could work, but it was also the last option I would want to consider because then I would have to see Hugo.

That is also if Hugo would even consider it. And if his financial situation wasn't already worse than my own.

Then if we could find the capital.

If I stayed.

The sun was rising over the vineyard as I closed my laptop. For the first time since arriving, I had clarity. Not emotional clarity—that remained murky—but analytical clarity. I understood exactly what we were facing and what options existed.

The question was no longer whether Domaine Moreau could be saved. The question was whether I had the courage to try, with all the information in hand.

My phone buzzed with an email from Philippe: Board meeting tomorrow. Need your quarterly projections by noon.

I looked at the email, then at my analysis of Domaine Moreau, then out at the vineyard where Henri had invested his entire life.

I deleted Philippe's email without responding.

Some things were more important than quarterly projections.