The other side of the door was an amazing room, fully half of the sub-basement in size, with walls and groin-vaulted ceiling of antique brick. All four walls were lined with wine rack after wine rack, at least two thirds of which had bottles in them. There must have been over a thousand bottles of wine in that room, lit by an iron chandelier.
In the center of the room was a rough farm-style table with six chairs around it, the raw wood of the table stained by many, many wine spills over the years.
I’d be the first to admit that I knew next to nothing about wine at that point. Sure, Emmy and I had done a few wine tours in Napa and Sonoma, but really, besides “yeah, this is tasty” or “no, that one doesn’t really work for me” I had no concept of what that collection might be worth, if anything at all.
Looking around for a minute, I found a bottle of Bordeaux, since Emmy had mentioned the Lascaux Chateau was somewhere near there. I got a laugh, seeing the date- that bottle of wine was over twice my age.
Locking the wine cellar door behind me, I went back upstairs, carrying the dusty bottle with me.
My timing was perfect- just as I got to the ground floor again, the doorbell rang. The designer had finally gotten there.
She was an extremely well-dressed older lady, maybe sixty or so, but manicured, botoxed and coiffed to perfection.
“Leah Farmer?” she asked. “I’m Charlie Carlton. Pleased to meet you. Is your wife home?” She said it without any hint at all that the idea of me having a wife might be strange, which put a mark in the ‘positive’ column as far as I was concerned.
“Emmy? Yeah, she’s upstairs with the contractors. Let’s go up- they’re on the sixth floor,” I said, ushering Charlie into the little elevator. It’s funny- up to that point, I’d never even stepped foot in the antique Otis. Thankfully, it worked just fine, no terrifying creaks, groans or rattles as it made its way up.
Spotting the bottle I was carrying, Charlie asked “What’s that?”
“Just a bottle of bordeaux I found in the wine cellar,” I replied, holding it up for her to see.
“There was wine left?” she asked, surprised.
“Yeah, we bought the house with all the contents,” I said. "It belonged to a woman who lived here for decades, and when she died, there were no close relatives, so her great-grandkids just sold it with all the furniture and everything.”
“Oh, thank god,” Charlie said.
“What? Why’s that?” I asked.
“I was horrified at the thought that the furniture I saw downstairs was yours.”
“Yeah, you and me both. This stuff has to go,” I agreed.
Emmy and the two contractors were waiting for the elevator, standing in the hall.
“Em,” I said, "This is Charlie Carlton. Charlie, this is my wife, Emmy De Lascaux. This is Erich, the general contractor,” I said, indicating the tall man with thinning blonde hair. "And the other guy is the sound studio expert, whose name I failed to catch earlier,” I said.
“Lewis,” Emmy chimed in. “His name is Lewis Parkfield. He is responsible for designing the recording studio we will have on this floor.”
“Did you guys get all the details worked out?” I asked Emmy.
“Mostly,” said Lewis. “I need to look into some things, then draw up detailed plans for Erich here, but yeah, I think we’re good to get rolling.”
“Perfect,” I said, and just then the doorbell rang. Puzzled, I asked “Em, were you expecting anybody?”
“Luisa,” She replied. “If she is to be our liaison here she must know what is to be done here.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed. “I’ll bring her up.”
When I let Luisa in, once again I was surprised by her appearance. She was wearing tennis shoes, age-faded jeans and an oversized hoodie. She was still pretty, but the outfit did a lot to hide her knockout body, which I was sure was the point.
“Hi, Luisa," I said, ushering her in. “I guess I’m going to need to get you a key, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” she agreed. “Emmy called me this morning to say I got the job. You’re O.K. with it, right?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“I just want to make sure,” Luisa said. “I’ve gone on a handful of interviews for positions like this in the last couple of months, and every single time the wife said no way.”
“If that’s the case,” I said leading her to the elevator, “Why did you dress so sexy for the interview? Why not dress like this?” I said, indicating her casual wear.
“I don’t want to get the job, then get fired by the jealous wife the moment she sees me in club wear, you know? I want that issue sorted out beforehand.”
“Emmy said that Mrs. Dalton thought it was something of an advantage that people assumed you were Mr. Dalton’s mistress.”
“Yeah, that was kind of funny, but it worked out,” Luisa said.
“Well, don’t be too surprised if you somehow end in the gossip rags and maybe even on TMZ, now that you’ll be living in Emmy De Lascaux’s love nest,” I said, laughing.
“I guess I’m going to have to get used to that,” Luisa agreed.
Stepping out of the elevator, there seemed to be nobody on the sixth floor, but the door to the stairwell that led up to the top floor, where Luisa was now going to live, was open and we heard voices. Following the sound, we found Emmy, Erich and Charlie on the terrace facing the East River, leaning over the railing and talking about the tiny little postage-stamp of a back garden and what to do with it. Apparently the sound guy had left at some point while I was letting Luisa in.
I don’t think Luisa had been out on that top floor terrace before when she’d toured the house with Emmy, because her reaction was surprise at seeing the amazing view. Our townhouse was a floor taller than the buildings on either side, and the view of the taller apartment building across the street was blocked by the top floor of our house, so the terrace was actually completely private, and felt isolated from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. Sure, you could hear the noise of the highway down below, but it really wasn’t too bad. The sad old umbrella needed to be replaced, but the cast aluminum table and chairs were in decent shape. Just a quick paint job and some cushions and it would be a lovely place to enjoy a nice day.
“What do you think of the view?” Emmy asked Luisa.
“This is really nice,” Luisa said. “Would this be my private deck?”
“I do not think it would be yours alone, since it is accessed from the main hallway on this floor and there are two apartments up here, but if we have no other permanent staff it would be yours to do with as you please,” Emmy said.
The next stop on the tour was, in fact, Luisa’s apartment-to-be. Emmy wanted it spruced up in keeping with the rest of the house, and told Erich that it should be at the top of the priority list along with the studio. “I want Luisa’s apartment to be a nice place for her to live while all the mess is being made downstairs,” Emmy explained.
We worked our way down room by room, and only a precious few were to remain untouched by the construction crew. A lot of the rooms merely needed a fresh bit of moulding, new windowsills, or new door hardware while others needed to be gutted- like that horrible master bath.
The tour took a lot longer than we’d expected, so we had to call it a night halfway through the second floor.
After Erich and Charlie left, planning to return the next afternoon, Emmy asked me “What is that bottle of wine you are carrying? Did Charlie bring that?”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“No, I found this in the wine cellar downstairs,” I said, handing it to her for inspection.
“This was down in the basement? There is a wine cellar down there?” she asked, reading the label.
“Below the basement,” I said. “It’s freaking amazing.”
“This bottle is amazing, Leah,” Emmy said, wonder in her eyes. “This is from a vineyard fifty kilometers from our chateau. Leah, 1970 was a famous year for wines in the region. This bottle would probably sell for fifteen hundred Euros at auction.”
“Well, we’d better get an expert in to catalog the cellar, then. I just picked that bottle out more or less at random because I knew you liked Bordeaux, but there might be a thousand bottles down there.”
“Are you serious?” asked Luisa.
“As serious as a heart attack, but twice as deadly,” I replied with a smirk. “Come on, let me show you.”
I led the way down the spiral staircase and into the sub-basement, which really needed a good cleaning. It wasn’t that it was dank or gloomy down there, just neglected.
I surreptitiously blocked the view of the keypad from Luisa when I punched in the combination. If there was really maybe a million dollars in wine down there I wanted it inventoried ASAP, before any of it could go missing. It was a simple precaution, right?
Emmy gasped with amazement at the wine room, which really did look like something that might be found in her family’s chateau.
“This is incredible,” Luisa said, wandering around, but not touching anything. “This is so cool down here!”
“You are right, Leah,” Emmy said, inspecting bottles at random. “We must get an expert here to take stock, and make an inventory. A lot of this may have gone bad, but I am certain this collection is worth a lot of money.”
“Can you do the research and find the expert?” I asked her. “I really know nothing about this,” I admitted.
“I will find someone who can evaluate the wines,” Emmy said, thinking about it. “But Luisa, this may be one of your first tasks- to assist the expert and make certain the inventory is correct,” she said, turning to our newest employee. “I can see that there exists a strong possibility for deception, or even simple theft. By simply not knowing what we have here and allowing in someone who does, the best bottles might simply vanish and we would be none the wiser. Luisa, the Daltons spoke highly of you and said that they trusted you completely. I hope that this is the start of a similar relationship here, as well.”
Luisa looked a little bit taken aback by this admission. “I’ll- I’m going to make sure it’s all above-board, Emmy. I think the first thing we need to do is simply count the bottles, just so we have a number,” she said. looking around. “And I’ll make a list. I know wines a little bit, mainly what the Daltons liked, so this is way, way above my level, but I can at least write down all the names and dates. We can show the list to a third party expert to get independent confirmation, right? That way we can be sure the guy who comes and evaluates isn’t trying to scam you guys.”
“That is a great idea!” Emmy said. “We should get started on this first thing tomorrow. It would be best if the wine were secured before the construction starts.”
“Yeah, and maybe get a locksmith here to redo the combination on that lock, too,” I added.
I liked that Luisa immediately recognized the potential problems and immediately thought of some quick safeguards. This made me think that she was trustworthy, which had been a concern in the back of my mind. I mean, here was a woman who would be living in the townhouse more than we ever would, who would control a healthy amount of money with the house budget and have the opportunity to rob us blind while we were away, right? Any reassurances that she was honest were welcome.
“I’ll get started on it tomorrow,” Luisa said, pulling out her phone to take notes. “I’ll need a notebook, some sort of tags, some fresh lightbulbs…”
“Great! That is fantastic!” Emmy said. “But that is tomorrow. Now it is time to think about getting ready for dinner. Luisa, would you care to join us for dinner tonight?”
“What?” Luisa asked, looking up from her phone. “Dinner? With you guys?”
“Yes! We would love to have you go out with us tonight, wouldn’t we, Leah?”
“Yeah, sure, that would be great. I mean, it’ll give us all a chance to get to know each other better, right?” I said. I’d expected a nice night out with my wife, but I could understand Emmy wanting to make Luisa feel like more than just an employee.
“You’re going out for dinner? Wouldn’t I just be a third wheel?” Luisa protested.
“No, really, it’d be great if you came with us,” I said.
“If you’re sure…”
“Yes, we are sure,” Emmy said as we headed back up the spiral staircase. This time I made sure I was following Emmy, so I could stare at her ass instead of Luisa’s as we went up.
“Honestly, it’d be nice to go out for dinner,” Luisa said. “I’ve been imposing on my sister for a while now, and I feel guilty every time she cooks extra dinner for me, you know?”
“Perfect!” Emmy said. Then, as if it just occurred to her, she asked “Is there any reason you can’t move in here right away? Perhaps even tonight?”
“Um, I- No, there really isn’t,” Luisa said, surprised at the suggestion. “Most of my stuff is in storage. I really only have some clothes at my sister’s place…”
“Excellent. Then we will have dinner, and afterward you will settle in here,” Emmy declared, as if it were just that easy.
“Oh, and we are going to a nice restaurant tonight, so wear something a little bit dressy,” Emmy added.
“I’ll have to go back to my sister’s house to change,” Luisa said, a bit dismayed.
“We will have Wally drive you,” Emmy said.
“Wally?”
“Our driver,” Emmy replied, pulling out her phone to call. “He is very nice. You will like him.”
Wally brought Luisa back before too long, wearing the same shirt and top combo as she’d worn for the job interview, but with a bit more formal jacket than the leather she’d worn before.
“You look lovely,” Emmy assured her.
Emmy and I had gotten dressed for dinner while the two were gone, so without any real delay we climbed into the limo. Emmy had suggested bringing the bottle of wine I’d been carrying around, but I said we should save it for later, after we got home.
Luisa was thrilled to ride in the limo- she said the last time she’d been in one was her high school prom, and that was shared with three other couples.
“Is this limo yours?” she asked.
“No, it’s from a livery company,” I said. "We’re just getting full-time service while we’re here in New York.”
“Wally works for a limousine company? Not you guys?”
“Well, he does now,” I said. “But I’m thinking of hiring him away.”
“You are?” asked Emmy, surprised.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking it might be a good thing to have him permanently on staff,” I said, voicing my thoughts. “He’d drive for us when we’re here in New York, maybe drive Luisa if she needs it, too. Maybe drive Jen and Lee if they stay here… Or whoever. He could run errands, whatever needs to be done that Luisa wouldn't be able to do easily on her own. I don’t know, it was just a thought.”
“I like the idea, but would we have enough for him to do to keep him busy?” Emmy asked.
“See, I’m not sure. I mean yes, for sure when we’re here, right? But when we’re not, it might get really slow for him. But maybe that’s O.K., too. If we keep him really busy when we’re here but he gets some down time when we’re not, maybe it balances out?” I said, thinking about it. “I don’t know- it’s just an idea I had.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant, and Wally opened the door for us. I stepped outside first, quickly scanning the area, then gave Emmy a hand out. The moment she stepped from the limo camera flashes went off. I wouldn't say I was totally used to it by that point, but the novelty had worn off a while ago. Luisa, though, was stunned by the paparazzi snapping our picture outside one of New York’s most celebrated restaurants.
The maître d’ held out his hand to lead Emmy inside, Luisa following bemusedly along and I brought up the rear of our little group.
We were led up to a sort of raised area that contained only four tables and given the table with the best view of the restaurant.
“Ms. De Lascaux, Ms. Farmer, it is such a delight to have you dining with us tonight,” the maître d’ said as he and two servers pulled out chairs for us. “You may notice that our menu varies a bit from our sister restaurant, but the simple matter is that the ingredients that are available fresh here are different than in Napa, and hence lead to somewhat different final results. If you have any questions at all, please ask. Danielle here will be your server this evening. She will take care of your every need. Now, if you will excuse me?” he said, giving a little bow before going back to his station.
Danielle introduced herself, then said “I was told you two are regulars at the French Laundry, is that right?”
When Emmy said that yes, we eat there with some frequency, Danielle said “That’s wonderful! We love it when people familiar with the Laundry come here to eat. I guess you could say that it’s a sort of sibling rivalry- we want you to think of us as the better of the two, and please, please tell us how we compare before you go tonight. Now, may I interest you three in trying the tasting menus? They offer a sampling of a wide variety of our best.”
After Danielle had left us alone for a moment, Luisa said in a hushed voice “When you said you were taking me out to dinner, I had no idea this is what you meant! Seriously, this is so beyond what I’d expected, I don’t even know!”
“If this chef is as good as David there in Napa, you are in for a real treat,” Emmy said.
“Just walking in the door and sitting down in here is a treat," Luisa replied.
Just then the chef came to our table. “Ms. Lascaux, Ms. Farmer,” he said, and nodded at Luisa. “I was just informed that you were here. Talking with my counterpart in Napa, he tells me that you, Ms. Farmer, aren’t preferential to seafood, but that you, Ms. Lascaux, are. Miss?” he asked, directed at Luisa.
Flustered, she said “I’ll eat anything- I’m not picky.”
“Excellent. It will be my pleasure to cook for the three of you this evening.” He went on to explain the first dish that came out, little cups of a sort of cold vegetable soup, then excused himself to go back to the kitchen.
After the sommelier poured our first pairing, we had a moment to talk again. “The rivalry thing is funny,” I said. “It could be real, or it could be completely made up to try to get us to feel special.”
“You guys are special,” Luisa said. “I mean, the chef made it seem like you two had never been in here before, but he knows what you like because he asked the chef there in Napa, right? I’ve never, ever heard of anything like that happening. The Daltons used to like to go out for dinners, and I know they came here once in a while, but I doubt the chef ever came out to talk to them, much less customized the menu for them. I mean, four other tables have been seated since we got here, and the chef hasn’t come out to talk to any of them.”
“Well, that’s partly because Emmy’s a celebrity and a very, very recognizable face, and two, we do eat at the French Laundry at least twice a month, sometimes more,” I said.
“Is this what you guys’ life is like? Riding everywhere in a limo like it’s just the way you get around? Paparazzi? Thousand-dollar dinners?” Luisa asked.
Laughing, Emmy said “No, not really. Our life is mostly work, dinners at home with friends, normal things like that.”