“He would’ve been very popular,” Mom agreed.
Derek set his empty teacup and saucer on the coffee table. “What can you tell us about his brother Anton?”
“Uncle Anton was the oldest of the four boys and very smart,” she said. “They sent him to the Université de Poitiers to study medicine.”
“Anton was a doctor?” I asked.
“Yes, a medical doctor by profession.” She chuckled lightly. “But he was a born academic. My grandfather used to say with much affection that Anton would rather have been teaching medicine than practicing.” She took a quick sip of tea before continuing the story. “Uncle Anton worked in a small clinic a distance from town until it closed, and then he became more involved in the family winery. He turned out to be excellent at winemaking because of his ability to apply biology and chemistry to the blending of the wines.”
“When did he decide to come to this country?” I asked.
“It was the war,” she said, her eyes unfocused as though she were recalling those days. “The Germans marched into Paris in 1940. I was too young to remember much, but I have since heard the stories repeated by my parents and grandparents.”
“It had to be a horrific time,” Mom said, reaching for the teapot to pour us all more tea.
“It was. By 1942, the French winemakers were fearful of having their precious vineyards burned and their wines stolen by the Nazis. My father and Uncle Anton and their two brothers began bricking up their caves and ripping out the vines so the Nazis couldn’t destroy them.”
I frowned. “But if they were ripping out their own vines, weren’t they destroying them anyway?”
“No, no, I misspoke,” Trudy said, holding her teacup steady for Mom to refill it. “The men took the ancient vines out carefully by the roots and packed them in small burlap bags with the dirt still surrounding the root ball. They hid these inside wine barrels and sent them to all parts of the world, wherever they had friends or acquaintances in the winemaking business. This way, the vines could be replanted surrounded by the dirt that had always nurtured them. The terroir.” She looked at me. “You are familiar with the term?”
“Yes,” I said, remembering my days conducting tastings at the winery. “Terroir is everything that gives a certain wine its specific characteristics. The dirt, the climate, the microclimate, the geological conditions. All of these affect the taste of the wine. Even other plants growing in the area will lend flavor to the wine. Terroir can include the type and location of a particular oak tree used to make the barrel in which it’s aged, or the yeast added during fermentation.”
I realized everyone was staring at me, and I winced. “Sorry. I tend to go off on the subject.”
“No, no, I find it fascinating,” Trudy said. “And very true. The winemakers had a need to protect their terroir as well as their vines, so they collected the dirt, too. And many cases of bottled wines, of course. They distributed them to those friends around the world for safekeeping.”
“But you still weren’t safe,” Derek prompted.
Even though I knew the outcome, I was sitting on the edge of my seat. “Your parents must’ve been scared to death.”
“It was a dark time,” she said, frowning. “When the massacre occurred at Oradour, our village fathers called a town meeting. Uncle Anton suggested that everyone gather their most treasured belongings together and hide them in one safe place.”
“Did they all agree?”
“Yes. The blacksmith had a false door in the floor of his shop, and they intended to hide everything in the space underneath. But then my uncle Jacques was caught by the Nazis for being part of the Resistance. We were afraid he would be tortured. He escaped, but he and his brothers decided that our entire family had to leave immediately to avoid certain death at the hands of the enemy. The men of my family used up every connection they’d ever had to get us out of the country.”
“Did they leave everything with the blacksmith?” I asked.
“No. Uncle Anton, as the oldest, was in charge, and he suggested that he and my uncles collect the most valuable belongings of everyone in the village and take them out of the country with them. When the war was over, Anton would be responsible for bringing it all back safe and sound.
“Everyone agreed that this was the best solution, so for several nights, people came by our house and left the most beautiful artwork and statues and gold coins and jewelry and silver pieces. Even some furniture. The father of one of my school friends claimed to be related to the French kings. He and the men carried several exquisite pieces of furniture into our house. I remember seeing a dresser with a mirror and a vanity table. All very fancy.”
At the mention of the furniture, I exchanged a glance with Derek.