Harmel - The Winemakers Wife

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Gallery Books

An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 by Kristin Harmel Lietz

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

FirstThis Gallery Books hardcover Canadian export edition AugustJuly 2019

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Interior design by Michelle Marchese

Jacket design by Chelsea McGuckin

Jacket photograph by Collaboration JS/Arcangel

Author photograph by Phil Art Studio, Reims, France

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Harmel, Kristin, author.

Title: The winemakers wife / Kristin Harmel.

Description: First Gallery Books hardcover edition. | New York : Gallery Books, 2019.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019002277 (print) | LCCN 2019009374 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982112318 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982112295 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781982112301 (trade paperback : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: World War, 1939-1945FranceFiction. | Family SecretsFiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Contemporary Women. | FICTION / War & Military. | GSAFD: Historical fiction

Classification: LCC PS3608.A745 (ebook) | LCC PS3608.A745 W56 2019 (print) |DDC 813/.6dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019002277

ISBN 978-1-9821-1229-52988-0

ISBN 978-1-9821-1231-8 (ebook)

To Jason and Noah.

You teach me again and again what love really is.

It is not tolerable, it is not possible, that from so much death, so much sacrifice and ruin, so much heroism, a greater and better humanity shall not emerge.

General Charles de Gaulle, leader of the French Resistance, speaking about the impact of the Second World War

one

MAY 1940

T he road snaked over the lush vineyards of Champagne as Ins Chauveau sped southwest out of Reims, clouds of dust ballooning in the wake of her glossy black Citron, wind whipping ferociously through her chestnut hair. It was May, and already the vines were awakening, their buds like tiny fists reaching for the sun. In weeks they would flower, and by September, their grapespale green Chardonnay, inky Pinot Meunier, blueberry-hued Pinot Noirwould be plump and bursting for the harvest.

But would Ins still be here? Would any of them? A shiver ran through her as she braked to hug a curve, the engine growling in protest as she turned down the road that led home. Michel would tell her she was driving too quickly, too recklessly. But then, he was cautious about everything.

In June, it would be a year since theyd married, and she couldnt remember a day during that time that he hadnt gently chided her about something. Im simply looking out for you, Ins , he always said. Thats what a husband is supposed to do. Lately, nearly all his warnings had been about the Germans, whod been lurking just on the other side of the impenetrable Maginot Line, the fortified border that protected France from the chaos besetting the rest of Europe. Those of us who were here for the Great War know to take them seriously , he said at least once a day, as if he hadnt been just four years old when the final battle was waged.

Of course Ins, younger than Michel by six years, hadnt yet been born when the Germans finally withdrew from the Marne in 1918, after nearly obliterating the central city of Reims. But her father had told enough tales about the warusually while drunk on brandy and pounding his fist against the tablethat she knew to be wary.

You can never trust the Huns! She could hear her fathers deep, gravelly voice in her ear now, though hed been dead for years. They might play the role of Frances friend, but only fools would believe such a thing.

Well, Ins was no fool. And this time, for once, she would bring the news that changed everything. She felt a small surge of triumph, but as she raced into Ville-Dommange, the silent, somber, seven-hundred-year-old Saint-Li chapel that loomed over the small town seemed to taunt her for her pettiness. This wasnt about who was wrong and who was right. This was about war. Death. The blood of young men already soaking the ground in the forests to the northeast. All the things her husband had predicted.

She drove through the gates, braked hard in front of the grand two-story stone chteau, and leapt out, racing for the door that led down to the vast network of underground cellars. Michel! she called as she descended two stone steps at a time, the cool, damp air like a bucket of water to the face. Michel!

Her voice echoed through the tangled maze of passageways, carved out of the earth three quarters of a century earlier by her husbands eccentric great-grandfather. Thousands of champagne bottles rested on their sides there, a small fortune of bubbles waiting for their next act.

Ins? Michels concerned voice wafted from somewhere deep within the cellars, and then she could hear footsteps coming closer until he rounded the corner ahead of her, followed by Theo Laurent, the Maison Chauveaus chef de cave , the head winemaker. My dear, what is it? Michel asked as he rushed to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and studying her face. Are you quite all right, Ins?

No. She hadnt realized until then how breathless she was from the news and the drive and the rapid descent into the chill of the cellars. No, Michel, Im not all right at all.

Whats happened? Michel asked while Theo regarded her silently, his expression as impassive as always.

It has begun, Ins managed to say. The invasion, Michel. The Germans are coming!