Michaud Vineyards and Winery

[The Exodus]

Although no one, besides Pierre and the groundskeeper, actually live on the property, the Michaud Vineyards are frequented by tourists during peak months and the manor house is occasionally lived in by the family who has owned it for centuries.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Continuation of a scene at Damien's party. BiC:

Ashton Greene

Being pregnant had its perks. Starting a family with the man she loved was one of them. The unconditional love she felt toward her little growing child was another. But it wasn’t without its downfalls. The rampant back pain came to mind, as did the migraines and swollen joints. But right now, the only downfall that came to mind was the fluctuation in body temperature. Where it was warm inside, the outdoor area felt like an ice burg. She shivered, surprised at the goose-fleshy skin in the mild autumn heat.

“I’m going to get my jacket. I’ll be right back,” she said softly to Lucian, giving his arm a gentle squeeze and excusing herself from the conversation.

The open doorway let in a wave of comforting warmth, even with air conditioner and Ashton rubbed her hands together, creating a friction. She had read in the many pregnancy books that being cold was bad for the baby, so Ashton went quickly to the hallway closet to fetch her warm coat. She sped past Natalie, avoiding eye contact and touched Damien lightly on the shoulder as she went by with celerity.

She slipped off her shoes and felt them, swollen and aching, sigh against the relief of carpeting.

She flicked through the series of jackets and shawls draping like techni-coloured cobwebs on their respective hangers. Finally, she landed on where her jacket once hung, but found an empty hanger, reaching out like an expecting, neglected hug. She moved some coats of several different fabrics around until she heard a soft crinkle and a flash of pink caught her eye. There, drifting to the ground was a hot pink Post-It note.

Lucian…

But to make the sensual sign even more clear, he had scrawled in hasty cursive ‘Ashton’. A toothy smile broke onto her face, growing wider still as a pair of arms linked themselves around her expanding waist.

“You sly, wonderful genius….” She said with a flirtatious giggle as the closet door shut behind them and a pair of sweet, rough lips met her own.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

When Ashton excused herself to go get her jacket, a tiny drop of freezing-cold panic set in Lucian’s stomach. She wasn’t meant to go to the coat closet until after the party was over. A feeble protest of, “No, let me” fell from his lips, but Ashton didn’t seem to hear it and instead waltzed inside. Lucian sped after her, taking a slightly different route, racing her to the closet so he could hide the one, tiny thing she didn’t need to see yet. But Ashton’s headstart gave her just enough of an advantage to slip inside the coatroom a full thirty seconds before Lucian could catch up with her. By the time Lucian crept inside, Ashton was already holding the pink sticky-note with her name on it. He smiled in spite of himself and kicked the door shut quietly. Lucian wrapped his arms around Ashton’s waist, as if that would stop her from reading.

“You sly, wonderful genius…” she murmured, back still to him. Lucian’s smile grew, even though he knew it shouldn’t. Ashton whirled around, still graceful as ever, and their lips met.

The kiss startled Lucian in its fieriness. He parted Ashton’s lips easily with his own, swallowing her lips up in his. One hand snaked downwards and grasped Ashton’s behind. The other slid upwards and tangled Lucian’s fingers in Ashton’s hair. Now was not the time for this. He’d left a light dusting of sticky-notes around the manor for Ashton to find over the weekend, since they planned on staying until Monday anyhow. It was meant to be lighthearted fun, spread out over an otherwise busy, but quiet weekend of overseeing the harvest. But this wasn’t just lighthearted fun. All the usual emotions were there-- loving, wanting, needing— along with something red-hot trimming the moment. The muffled sound of music and chatter came through the wooden door, warped and indistinguishable. It wasn’t smooth jazz or soul, but it created a heightened sense of romance anyways. At any moment, the door could fling open. Urgency, secrecy, echoing their first stolen months together. But there was a new thrill to this Lucian hadn’t expected to be there. He felt untouchable, knowing that on the other side of the door, were the vestiges of his old life and that even though it was still his for the taking, he could shun it all—his ex-wife, his life in England—for Ashton. That he really had chosen her, grafted her onto his soul. And together, they were forging a new life.

But Lucian hadn’t realized the sort of pent-up desire was locked away in his chest until they had half a moment alone. It scared him. He was used to loving Ashton and used to wanting her. But he was used to utter solitude with her. Just the two of them in a big empty house or a parked car. They were always so good about timing. Lucian wanted to throw the rules away. Prove to Ashton that nothing mattered except this—her, them, their family. They could joke as they pleased about crazy exes, pretend that they were actually concerned by these supposed “threats”. But jokes and pretending only lasted for so long. When that was all stripped away, there was just them.

But now? Here?

Why not?

A deep throaty mewl vibrated in the back of Lucian’s throat and he ripped from the kiss, pulling Ashton’s lower lip with him for a moment and releasing her breathlessly.

“That was supposed to be for this weekend,” he confessed. His voice was raspy. “But why wait?”

He claimed Ashton’s mouth again and let his hands wander of their own accord. This kiss was deeper than the last, just as demanding. Outside, the music had changed pace, quickened. The bass pounded, giving them a sound-blanket for each laborious and loud breath.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Ashton felt a burn tingle up and down her spine as Lucian touched her. She gagged back a moan and plunged her tongue between his teeth, feeling lovingly along each ridge of the roof of his mouth. She had yet to memorise the square millimeters of that map, and the idea that even now, after countless days and nights of exploring each other, she could still find something new and exciting about him. She hoped that feeling never went away.

And the thought of Natalie, just outside that door, bitter and hardened, told her that Lucian would continue to provide her with new and exciting facts about himself, and Ashton would forever enjoy lapping them up like honey.

She supposed there had been a time when a similar fire burned between Lucian and Natalie, but oddly, that didn’t deter her. The different between what had existed between Lucian and his ex-wife and what currently happened between Ashton and Lucian was that Lucian would forever stoke this new and eternal flame, and Ashton would never tire of fanning it.

Music from the party gave a muffled melody to the intimate moments they shared in the closet—a wordless soundtrack to their most private and stolen minutes—stolen not because no one could know, but because it was a social taboo to make love at your soon-to-be stepson’s coming out party.

“That was supposed to be for this weekend,” he confessed. His voice was raspy. “But why wait?”

“After all,” Ashton said, a blend of tongue and teeth caressing Lucian’s semi-brackish neck, “when have we waited to do anything?”

It was true. Lucian and Ashton seldom did anything in “the right order”. But that didn’t make it wrong. It made it uniquely them, their lives merging together in ways that broke borders and dared to colour heavily out of the lines of conformity and propriety. And their family, growing with every second that ticked by, was just as extravagantly unique, mixed and constantly contorting the definition of ‘normal’. And Ashton, with her public but dignified upbringing couldn’t imagine wanting it any other way.

What she wanted was right in front of her, covered by the curtain of darkness, the only light seeping in from beneath the door. What she wanted was the one man who would love her for all she was unconditionally. And he was here.

Ashton struggled with Lucian’s tuxedo jacket, pulling and twisting it, begging it to come off. She ached to feel his skin, bare and beautiful, on her own.

But with one hard tug, Ashton lost her balance and her lips were ripped from his as she toppled forward in the small space allotted, Lucian beneath her.

“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “Are you alright?”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

As Ashton tore at the jacket of Lucian’s tuxedo, the pair of them went toppling to the ground. Worry jumped from Lucian’s stomach into his throat, slipping out of his mouth in a strangled, muted “oof”. He looked up at Ashton, who now straddled over him, looking as surprised as Lucian felt in the dark room.

“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “Are you alright?”

“I am if you are,” he said, realizing that she and the baby were unharmed.

He laughed, but quickly covered his mouth at the sound. He put his fingers to Ashton’s lips to quiet her and he sat up a little under her. Maybe this idea was ridiculous. Certainly, it was silly. But often, silliness gave way to tenderness and tenderness to passion. The moment wasn’t lost. Ashton’s legs were unceremoniously on either side of Lucian and they were both sitting up on the floor of the closet. Between them, her pregnant stomach kept them from being chest to chest as they ought to have been. Lucian reached forward and stroked Ashton’s cheek, then cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her in for another kiss.

And then the door opened.

The room was flooded with light and it blinded Lucian for a moment; he couldn’t see who had intruded on them. Dull fear twisted his gut as he imagined all sorts of horror. Damien, standing there looking appalled and disappointed. Natalie, snarling and almost gleeful from rage at catching them in the act. Toddy St. James, with wide eyes, rapidly losing respect for Damien’s family…

“Honestly, Lucian? You could not wait three more hours for the party to end?”

Pierre Martel, Damien’s godfather and Lucian’s business partner stood in the doorway, a grin pulling at his large and crooked mouth. Lucian smiled back, as if there was nothing incriminating about being tangled up in the coatroom with your girlfriend at your son’s coming out party.

“You wouldn’t be able to, either, if you were engaged to Ashton,” he said lightly.

Pierre snorted.

“Maybe,” he said. Lucian knew that in this case, “maybe” was as close to agreeing Pierre would come out loud. His grin widened. “But you’re lucky I found you before Damien did. He’s looking for you.”

Lucian groaned as good-naturedly as he could and he looked at Ashton.

“Let’s hope Gregory doesn’t learn his sense of timing from his big brother,” he teased. “This is at least the second time Damien’s interrupted us.”

“Tonight?” Pierre asked before Ashton could say anything. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned with what looked like mixed admiration and disgust. “What happened to the responsible Lucian Michaud I knew? You’ve ruined him, Ashton!”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Unhurt, Ashton began laughing and she fought with all her might to suppress it. Leave it to them the pair of them to face unconventional situations that would turn into silent glances filled to the brim with memories of such moments. They could never be bored together, and Ashton cherished that every second of her life.

Lucian seemed to be fine, fully recovered from the fall, as he propped himself up on his elbows and stifled a laugh, putting a gentle finger to her lips to silence her laughs until they turned into soft, comical hiccups. His skin was gentle against her lips and she longed for him to do the antithesis of what he was currently doing with that finger of his—instead of quieting her down, she wanted it to make her scream.

Instead, he kissed her, twirling her tongue around with his, tracing the sharp edges of her teeth, tickling the tender softness of her gums, which Ashton conceded, was an acceptable replacement. She sighed hotly into the kiss, her eyes rolling to a close.

Click

Ashton’s eyes flew open into a blinding, luminescent yellow flood of light, the music from outside pumping louder than ever inside her ears. Ashton squinted up to the source to find the door ajar, a manly silhouette leaning on the frame.

“Honestly, Lucian? You could not wait three more hours for the party to end?”

Ashton smiled with relief. It could have been any number of people—Damien, Natalie, Mildred… The list was expansive ; the person in the doorway had the capability of being any person on the guest list and their plus one who stored their jacket in the same closet. Thankfully, it was Pierre, Lucian’s friend who, according to Lucian, had been caught in more compromising positions.

“You wouldn’t be able to, either, if you were engaged to Ashton,” Lucian said lightly as Ashton smiled with what she played off as bashfulness. He had a point. Ashton was, in a way, conniving and distracting. A deadly combination.

“Maybe. But you’re lucky I found you before Damien did. He’s looking for you.”

Ashton lifted a leg, shining and smooth in the bath of light, to let Lucian free. She leaned back on her hands.

“Let’s hope Gregory doesn’t learn his sense of timing from his big brother,” he teased. “This is at least the second time Damien’s interrupted us.”

Ashton let out another laugh, her hair falling over her face.

“Tonight? What happened to the responsible Lucian Michaud I knew? You’ve ruined him, Ashton!”

Ashton shrugged casually as if she had no idea what Pierre was accusing him of. But really, she did. She had to dig to find Lucian. When she pulled him out of this hole of distress, she had to carefully him off to find him broken, and with patience, love, and skill, pasted him back together like a world renowned restoration artist.

“All for the better, I can assure you, Pierre.”

Pierre gave a noncommittal ‘huh’ of a laugh as Lucian helped her up. “Thank you , love.” Ashton smoothed out her dress. “I think we best be getting back to the party.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: New Scene! BiC:

Ashton Greene

The weekend sun poked it's bed head over the hills of Burgundy, France, awakening everything it's light touched. But Ashton was already awake. She got a full seven hours of sleep, having gone to bed early, and Gregory moved about, demanding her attention. Ashton figured she best get used to it-- Gregory would be keeping her up at night for the next eighteen years. She considered this training. But on her way to the kitchen, she was stopped by the glare off a black and white beauty, all alone in the ballroom. Ashton approached it with confident respect and touched it lovingly. It was a habitual move, to touch a piano every time there was one in the room. It was an action driven not by thought, but by spirit. As she settled down in on the cushiony bench, her fingers, curved and correct did her thinking and played the first song that came to them.

It was the song that played as an introduction to her and Lucian’s first kiss. This song, like others that held special meaning to her and Lucian meant just as much to her as little pink sticky notes. Just as sensual and passionate, but not as sexually driven. The songs signified that forbidden fruit motif of their early relationship, the walking on eggshells and hot coals, the risk of getting caught, the idea that in any moment, they could lose it all. They signified risk and indulgence. And without that gambit, they wouldn't be where they were today.

Her fingers flowed effortlessly across the keys, her body rocking with a dream-like halcyon rhythm, feeling the cool jazz beat that pulsated throughout. It was a good song to wake up to and Ashton wondered if Lucian could hear her.

Her inquiries were answered when, through the syncopation, she heard a clear strum of guitar and smiled.

Good morning to you, darling.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Lucian woke up earlier than he would have liked, before the sun was even up. The October morning was bitter, but not cold; Lucian could scarcely tell the difference. He was bleary-eyed and silent for much of the morning and selecting men to harvest with sleepy indifference. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lucian reminded himself that this place ought to be modernized for maximum productivity, but in the morning, he hadn’t the words to explain what he wanted. In the warm, soft bed in the manor house, Ashton was probably still sound asleep and happy. If he could be anywhere now, he’d be there, curled up beside her.

“You look like a dead man,” Pierre said with mock-concern. “Is that fiancée of yours wearing you out?”

Lucian laughed and shook his head. “I manage.”

Pierre put a callused and tanned hand onto Lucian’s shoulder.

“Go back inside. You were never much use in the field, anyways.”

Lucian smiled gratefully and went back inside, intent on catching a few more hours of sleep. But when he reached the bedroom, the bed was empty. Lucian wandered around the ground floor dazedly, wondering where Ashton was. He didn’t have to search long, though. Her piano playing fell on his ears long before he saw her. He smiled as he placed the tune. It was far too early for Christmas carols, but that didn’t matter. Ashton was playing their song. With shocking lucidity, Lucian went back into the bedroom and pulled his guitar from its case before going back into the ballroom and playing along.

And it was strange. The music seeped into his skin, into his bones, and jolted him awake. It put the world sharply back into focus and took the fuzziness out of Lucian’s mind. After only a few chords he realized something and he stopped with an ungraceful “twang”.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling sheepishly and fiddling with the knobs to retune the guitar. “I just…” He cleared his throat. “We’ve never played together before. Have we?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

The twang of the guitar was raucous, and ended just as abruptly as it began. “Sorry,” Lucian said with a guilty smile and Ashton stopped playing as Lucian messed with the tuners on the guitar. “I just…” He cleared his throat. “We’ve never played together before. Have we?”

Ashton shook her head. “Well, not musical instruments, no.” She smirked devilishly at him as the B string vibrated and glided up to a sharper, more exact pitch.

Ashton put her fingers in place, resting with poise. “Ready? I’ll count you in…”

Ashton bobbed her head up and down, counting out four down beats before she and Lucian, in unison, started the opening chord.

“I really can’t stay…”

Except she could, and willing would until she died.

“I’ve got to go away…” Ashton crooned.

The accompaniment, both of guitar and piano, supported their voices, which twirled around in harmony, lovingly. It was a pillow of sound that was so in-sync, it only made the moment better.

“This evening has been so very nice…”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

He wasn’t out of practice, but Lucian was incredibly nervous. He couldn’t imagine why his fingers were suddenly slick with sweat and shaky. Some things, he supposed, just didn’t change. He’d been jittery around Ashton the first time he played guitar for her. Jittery and a turned-on and filled with a sort -frustrated and not-yet verbalized longing for something he shouldn’t have wanted. And while it was a new sort of jittery—a swooping in his stomach, a drive to continually impress her—it felt the same kind of good. He looked up from the guitar at her with apologetically wide eyes at the realization that since that night what seemed a lifetime ago. He’d never told her his dim fear about the guitar as a symbol of chaos. That was something he barely acknowledged himself. And he wondered—worried—if Ashton was angry with him.

“Well, not musical instruments, no,” she said coyly.

Lucian flooded with relief and grinned back. The worry—much like his superstition—was all in his head. The guitar hummed in near-perfect pitch and Ashton turned back to the piano.

“Ready? I’ll count you in…” she said. Clearly, he needed her to.

“I really can’t stay…” Ashton sang.

“Baby it's cold outside,” Lucian returned. He’d thought his voice rough and untrained next to Ashton’s perfect-pitch all those nights ago. But now, hearing their voices come together, Lucian couldn’t help but think they sounded rather nice in unison.

“I’ve got to go away…”

“But, baby, it’s cold outside…”

“This evening has been so very nice…”

“I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice…”

The song continued on, familiar and warm, wrapping itself around them the way music does. For Lucian, it conjured images of their first real meeting, alone in his old study back in Wiltshire. He wondered if Ashton was thinking of that moment, too. The way the room smelled like old books and the two of them were the only lively things against the funerary engagement party’s backdrop. There was this tingling excitement in the air then and now, it still crackled in the air. Now, though, they were so used to it; they expected it to be there. But now more than ever, Lucian was acutely aware of its presence. And in a strangely satisfactory way, he realized that it wasn’t a sexual hunger. It was this electric connectivity Lucian couldn’t explain away with fresh, scientific language. It was like they understood one another and existed on a plane of perfect harmony. When the song ended, the feeling didn’t lift, but lingered and left them bathed in a warm afterglow. The room was silent a moment and then Lucian swung the guitar onto his back and sat down on the piano bench beside Ashton.

“I don’t care if we get married in the middle of summer,” he said, draping an arm over her shoulder. “We must have that song at the reception.”

[The Exodus]

OOC: New scene! Lushton still. BIC:


Lucian Michaud

Two days ago, Lucian would have bemoaned waking at the crack of dawn. After weeks in the city, the sun had seemed too garish, rising too early. But after only a few days, Lucian found himself waking before the sunrise. He wasn’t usually superstitious, but he was very seldom awake in the predawn hours. Lucian rose from the bed and looked from Ashton’s sleeping form to the window just beyond her. In the fading moonlight, he could see the rows and rows of grapes. Just beyond the fields was a patch of greenery, impossible to see from the window. It was a little pocket of the world that Lucian loved better than almost any place on the planet. He looked over at Ashton again and smiled. An idea wriggled around happily in his head. He got dressed quietly and then turned back to his fiancée. He nuzzled her cheek, kissing her softly and stirring her from sleep.

“Morning, love,” he said, voice gravelly still. “It’s time to get up… I’ve got something to show you.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

She was on a boat. And the waves were rocking it gently, the oars bobbing up and down as the salty water lapped at its sides. There was complete silence as she and Lucian shared a moment of nautical solitude. Well, except the butterflies that flew around. And though they floated in the middle of the Atlantic, nothing but blue around them, butterflies still danced around their heads. But like most dreams, it didn’t have to make much sense. He caught them in his large hands for Ashton to admire and play with.

Her boat rocked as Lucian pulled her near, kissing her gently on the mouth. It felt realer than it ought to of. And that was when it occurred to her she was dreaming.

“Morning, love,” came Lucian’s real and distant voice. “It’s time to get up… I’ve got something to show you.”

Ashton’s olive eyes sleepily drifted open. It was too early. She snuggled into him, disregarding morning breath and pecking his lips with her own. “Another butterfly?”

But as she slowly drifted into consciousness, returning to the land of the living, she realized that couldn’t possibly be a very logical statement to Lucian.

“I mean, good morning to you, too. Is it time to get up already?” Ashton rubbed gently away at the remnants of sleep that still clung to her lashes and lids and yawned, finding something soothingly warm in Lucian’s chest that seemed to lull her back to a sleep.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Ashton’s eyes fluttered open. Lucian smiled under her mouth as she snuggled into him.

“Another butterfly?” she asked when she pulled away.

Lucian laughed softly and shook his head. He didn’t know what she was talking about; it was possible she wasn’t even awake.

“I mean, good morning to you, too,”Ashton said. She rubbed at her eyes and nestled against Lucian again. “Is it time to get up already?”

“I know it’s early,” he told her, “But today is our last day here before we go back to Paris. I want to show you something. Please?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“I know it’s early,” he told her, “But today is our last day here before we go back to Paris. I want to show you something. Please?”

Ashton smiled at Lucian’s excited, pleading voice, curiosity rising up from her toes to her face. It willed her to sit up, rubbing at her eyes, willing around and pointing her feet as she stretched. “I’m up,” she said with a large yawn.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Ashton rose from the bed and Lucian waited for her to get ready. He sat on the mussed bed and told himself he’d make it up when they got back. He was content to sit there, half watching Ashton and half watching the dark fields outside. They looked bluish still and were probably covered in dew. The sun would soon bathe them in orange and eventually, everything would go back to green, the way it ought to. By the time Ashton finished readying herself, the sun had begun its climb into the sky.

They walked outside in the dewy grass; the smell of dirt and growing things sent Lucian back to a time before Ashton was born. Before he was Lucian Michaud, Damien’s dad. Before he was Lucian Michaud, MP. He could have easily been six or seven or twelve, slipping out of the too-large manor house and onto the grounds for a bit of early morning fun, tramping around in the mud and hiding under the vines. A sort of secretive giddiness touched Lucian’s lips. The best secrets were the ones you gave away to someone you loved, someone you trusted.

Until now, he hadn’t had anyone to share this particular secret with. Pierre knew the place, but had long ago outgrown it. Damien had never grown into it, but contented himself with cities and sophistication instead of little hamlets and rural life. Never mind that he was young, too young in a lot of ways, to appreciate why Lucian loved it here. Natalie Lucian never trusted with this. He’d always assumed it was because she, like Damien, preferred high-brow pleasures to simple ones, but now, walking hand-in-hand with Ashton Lucian understood. He’d never really trusted anyone fully until now. Not on this level, anyways. Eventually, the vineyards tapered off into a grassy knoll that rolled upwards. It looked somehow smaller since Lucian last visited and overgrown. Compared to other parts of the property, this was practically wilderness. Lucian smiled at Ashton and they finally reached the top. The hill overlooked the tiny village that had sprung up around the manor back in feudal days of yore. The houses, old and small, looked straight out of a storybook. Especially now, with the sun rising over them and bathing the white walls with light. Somewhere, there was a church bell tolling, waking the town’s residents the way it probably had for centuries. It had as long as Lucian could remember. His bones creaked a little as he sat on the wet grass, giving himself the view he’d once known as a boy. Lucian gestured for Ashton to join him, held out a hand for her to take to help her down.

“This is my hill,” he said with a half-smile, realizing how childish the sentence must have sounded. “I used to come here every morning in the summertime when I was a boy. It’s possibly my favourite place in the world. … I used to come here—to the vineyards, this hill—when I needed to get away from Parliament and… things. Just to think.”

He looked at her, apologetic for his candor, and then turned his gaze to the roofs below. His critics used to theorize that he had vices. Addictions. A mistress. All sorts of things, awful things, when he would go away for a while. It had been what made him suspect in the embezzlement trials in 2008. It had also been his alibi. Where he’d been when things went to hell. And later, it became his safe haven from the press and from his crumbling first marriage. Lucian leaned back on his palms and stretched his legs out in front of him. He looked over at Ashton. He wondered if she knew about those news stories. She’d have been twenty when he was cleared of charges. Younger still when the hype was high. They never talked about those days. Most of the time, they seemed like a part of another man’s past. But sitting here, Lucian could remember freshly both the lazy afternoons he spent here as a young man with Joyce and Wilde and Faulkner, pretending to be studying and the times when he was much older with his head in his hands as he stared blankly at the tranquil world below, wishing his life was as sturdy and simple as those in the village.

“I haven’t shown anyone this place. Not since I was very, very young. And heaven knows Pierre doesn’t count. He knows this place better than I do.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Do you know why I’m showing you now?”