My Grape Escape by Laura Bradbury Read Free Book Online

Ange.
    “And what, may I ask, is the selling price?” Le Maître asked after Franck had given a full description of the property.
    Franck and I exchanged a worried glance. Was this the moment of truth when Le Maître would snort and say we had just escaped being horrifically ripped off, or that we were idiots not to have bought it for that price already?
    “Two hundred and fifty thousand francs,” Franck answered. I watched Le Maître, but his composed face revealed nothing. He merely rolled his Mont Blanc between his thumb and his forefinger.
    “It does seem perhaps a tad on the high side,” he said, non-committal. “Then again, after a long period of stagnation there is renewed interest in these villages and there are a limited number of properties for sale. I believe I must see it before I am able to give you my professional opinion.”
    Franck winked at me. This is exactly what we had wanted to happen, but we hadn’t wanted to come right out and say it.
    “How would you like to be… ah… remunerated for your time?” Franck asked delicately.
    Le Maître clicked the top of his Mont Blanc pen and bestowed a warm smile on us. “Don’t worry about that. We can figure that out later, depending on whether I am able to assist you or not. Now, when shall we arrange for a viewing? I have some availability tomorrow.”
    Fifteen minutes later the viewing had been set up and we floated out of the notary’s office, feeling divinely protected now that we had the Angel Maître on our team.
    If only life unfolded like this all the time, faith would be a snap.

 
    Chapter 6
     
     
    The next day, Franck and I found ourselves scuttling back to our hiding spot under the washhouse in Marey. We peered through the round window for a glimpse of either Maître Ange or the realtor.
    This time I didn’t roll my eyes or complain. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone interfering with us buying the property. In bed that morning Franck and I had already decided that if we saw signs that our Maître Ange approved of the place we would make an offer on the spot to the realtor. I pressed my hot forehead against the cool stone. It was all happening so fast.
    Maître Angearrived perfectly on time in a majestic silver Mercedes that somehow seemed to repel the dust that billowed up from the vineyard roads. Franck and I covertly slid out from the washhouse and crossed the road to greet him. His blue eyes scanned the property.
    “ Alors , this is the place?” he asked.
    “ Oui ,” Franck said. “The two houses you see here and the two granges further down the hill, as well as all the land. It goes all the way down to the vineyards.
    Le Maître merely raised his eyebrows and began to walk towards the gate. He unwound the knot of chain and sauntered in as though he owned the place.
    “The agent hasn’t arrived yet,” Franck clarified. “Perhaps we should - ”
    “I seem to remember you mentioning that the owners had already moved out.” Le Maître smiled at us winningly.
    “They have,” Franck said. “But still…I’m not sure if we have the right - ”
    “They wouldn’t mind prospective buyers such as us looking around, now would they?”
    Franck’s eyes questioned me and I shrugged. I had argued pretty much the same thing when we first visited the property. Still, it felt more like trespassing when it wasn’t my idea.
    Le Maître Ange didn’t wait around for us to agree or disagree. He strode on, his shining head of silver hair tilted up so he could take in the vast expanse of stone and roof. Franck and I both waited for a sign from him. Nothing seemed to escape his scrutiny. He remained, however, inscrutable.
    A honk came from behind us and Franck and I whipped around. Le Maître turned slowly, with one eyebrow cocked to detect the identity of the culprit who dared interrupt his inspection. The agent lurched out of his dusty car, shedding stray pieces of paper and spouting excuses all the way across the lawn to where we