Tangled Vines by Janet Dailey Page B

they will speak, with a trace of awe, about ‘Madam’s’ wine.” Kelly paused and smiled at Katherine. “I said it to you earlier, but I must repeat myself, because it is truly an honor to have you with us, Madam Rutledge.”
    â€œThank you, but the pleasure is mine.” Katherine inclined her head briefly, charm radiating from her expression to become part of her inherent dignity.
    â€œCuriosity. The term ‘Madam’ – how did that come about?”
    â€œIt began years ago.” She dismissed the exact number with a lift of her hand. “When I first came to Rutledge Estate as a bride, the servants referred to me as ‘the young madam,’ to differentiate, I’m sure, from my husband’s mother, who was still living at the time. Then later, when I returned from France after my husband had died, I was accompanied by Girard Broussard and his young grandson, Claude. Despite the existence of Prohibition in America at the time, Girard had agreed to become the wine master at Rutledge Estate. A post his grandson, Claude, now occupies. Being French, both Girard and Claude addressed me as Madam. It grew from that.”
    Kelly was aware that Katherine had been accompanied by her two young sons, Jonathon and Gilbert, the cuttings for the vineyard, and the coffin with her husband’s remains inside on her return from France, but she chose not to mention it.
    Instead she observed, “I know it’s rare for you to leave Napa Valley these days. Is it merely coincidence that both you and Baran Fougere are attending this year’s gala auction in New York, or is there truth to the rumors that you are vying with your son Gilbert’s winery, The Cloisters, to form a joint venture with the baron’s Chateau Noir firm in Napa Valley?”
    Katherine smiled pleasantly. “With the presence of so many great chateaux, such as Petrus, Lafite-Rothschild, Moot and Chandon, already in the valley, there are always rumors. However, if you are asking me whether I shall be seeing the baron while I’m in New York, then the answer is yes. Our families have been friends for many years.”
    Kelly gave her full marks for so deftly evading the question. Age had not lessened either the sharpness or the quickness of her mind. With less than a minute left, there wasn’t time to pursue it.
    â€œIt can’t be easy for any mother to compete with her son in the same business, whether it’s the making of fine wines or anything else. I’m sure the rivalry between you and your son Gilbert is no different.”
    Katherine tilted her head to one side and smiled at Kelly with a wide-eyed look. “But the wines of Rutledge Estate have no rivals, Kelly.”
    Instinctively Kelly knew that was the perfect note to end the interview on. She turned to the camera. “As I’m sure those who attend tomorrow evening’s gala auction will attest. Katherine Rutledge of California’s renowned Rutledge Estate, thank you for being with us. It has been a rare treat for everyone.”
    The interview had been flawless, and Kelly knew it. That certainty offered some consolation to nerves that were raw from the strain of it.
    As soon as they cut to a commercial break, Kelly excused herself and went back to her chair at the anchor desk, leaving Katherine in the capable hands of the hovering Sally O’Malley.
    The last remaining minutes of the broadcast were a blur. Kelly didn’t remember any of it. She knew she made some appropriate remark when her co-anchor announced to the viewers that she was leaving, moving on to bigger and better things, and plugged her new primetime show for the network. But, for the life of her, she couldn’t have repeated it.
    While the credits rolled over a shot of the anchor desk, she remained in her chair, smiling and nodding, pretending she was actually listening to the cross-chat of the broadcast team. The instant the lights were