14

Benjamin threw on his jacket and hurried down the staircase, almost tipping over the suit of armor in front of the stained-glass window. The Open Air team was waiting in the courtyard, near their van.

“So, you know,” Benjamin said when he saw their faces.

“Yes, we’ve seen the newspapers,” Liza answered. “But it won’t keep us from filming. We’ll take care of Virgile’s absence when we edit. No one will notice.”

Benjamin nodded. “After all, it’s the wine that matters. We’re just oral historians, conveyors of influence. The true star of your documentary is the wine.”

“But I must admit that Virgile’s presence brings a lot to our project. Besides, he’s quite photogenic.”

Benjamin's mood turned dark again. “Shit, not you too!" he thundered, not caring how rude he sounded. He spun on his heel and marched over to his Mercedes. The gravel flew as he sped down the drive. Once on the highway, he let up on the gas pedal, but he continued to curse female gullibility and his assistant’s pheromones.

The filming was scheduled to take place at the estate of la Fontainerie, where Catherine Dhoye Deruet was awaiting them. Catherine was one of the first women to take charge of a family estate in the Vouvray appellation. Benjamin wanted to underscore the strides made by female winemakers in the Loire Valley. According to some estimates, women accounted for upwards of forty percent of the region’s vintners.

Aware that Catherine might be uncomfortable around the film crew, Benjamin made it clear that he was there as a colleague and friend, not as a member of the production team. Eventually, everyone relaxed and became oblivious to the director and her assistants.

Liza seemed pleased at Benjamin’s ability to make an interviewee shine without becoming invisible himself. With a nod of her head, she told Fabrice to move in for a closeup. The cameraman complied.

While Catherine offered tastings of a 2008 moelleux from the cuvée Coteaux les Brûlés, the winemaker outlined her career path, which resembled that of François Pinon. After pursuing an education as an agricultural engineer, she worked at a food-process engineering school near Paris. When her parents decided to retire and rent their vineyards to neighbors, she didn’t hesitate to return to the estate, which had been in the family since the seventeen hundreds, and take over operations.

“But your parents weren’t living on the property, were they,” said Benjamin, who knew the family well but let Catherine tell her own story.

“No, they weren’t on the property. The house adjoining the cellar hadn’t had any occupants for fifty years or so.”

“What changes did you initiate when you took over?”

“No major changes in the cellar, except for updating the grape press. It still worked well, but it was very old. We modernized gradually. There was nothing revolutionary about it.”

While conversing, Benjamin tasted the moelleux. It had delicate spices on the nose, soon confirmed in the mouth, where they developed into aromas of roasted pineapple. The finish was long, smooth, and round, persistent and fresh.

“Perhaps there was no revolution, but I note a superb evolution in this wine.”

Liza gave him an amused wink. The transition was perfect.

“At first, the neighbors watched me with some skepticism,” the Dhoye heiress continued. “But little by little, I think I’ve created a following by developing and improving the cultivation of vines in environmentally sustainable ways. We avoid spraying pesticide whenever we can, and we harvest by hand. My father was already working that way. The main thing is to have a healthy grape and steer clear of chaptalization. From there, everything happens naturally.”

“Cut!” shouted Liza, clearly delighted. “You were perfect!”

“That’s all you need?” Benjamin asked, a bit frustrated about ending a conversation he wanted to pursue.

“Perfect, I tell you!”

The technicians were already preparing to cross the courtyard and climb the heights of the Fontainerie estate, where they would take additional footage of Benjamin walking the rows of vines.

“If that’s all you need, I’ll say good-bye,” Catherine said. “Please feel free to finish your filming. Enzo, one of my assistants, can help you with anything you need.” She turned and walked away.

Still disgruntled, Benjamin looked up and saw that Fabrice and Hugo had arrived at the designated spot. He faithfully followed Liza’s instructions to: examine a leaf, scoop up a handful of soil, climb the slope without hunching forward, walk slowly down the hill, avoid squinting when facing the sun, and “fix that shirt collar.” He didn’t utter a complaint.

But when Liza told him to readjust his collar yet again, Benjamin had had enough. He yanked the clip-on microphone from his jacket. “Okay, that’s it!”

“What happened?” Liza asked. “You’re not going to leave us like that, are you?”

“Yes, I’m leaving like that! Sorry, Ms. Stechelmann, I’ve got better things to do.