A Good Year Page #5

Yeah, we need some silverware.

But, uh, let me tell you

what I would like to have.

Mm-hmm.

I would like a salad "Nicoisee..."

with ranch dressing on it.

Wait, wait, baby,

low-cal ranch dressing.

Oh, that's right.

I'm still on my diet.

So, I would like low-cal

ranch dressing with no oil.

And could you sprinkle

some bacon bits on top?

McDonald's is in Avignon,

fish and chips, Marseille.

Allez.

You people got some serious attitude around here.

Here are your tips.

Thank you for your help.

You're fired.

You know, my vigneron said that

you grew up around Gord.

Monsieur Duflot is mistaken.

I only visited Gord during

the summer with my mother.

I used to spend my summers here.

I wonder if we ever met.

Well, if we did,

I hope I was unbearable.

You're a local.

You'd know the answer to this.

Where would a young man,

recently cashed up, take someone

for a drink?

What?

Are you asking me on a date?

No, it's more of an apology.

I just don't, uh, want you to

think I'm the sort of maniac

who goes around running people

off the road.

I'm not interested.

Have a good night.

Sunday night, 8:
00.

Place de I'Etang.

Don't be late.

I shall see you then.

Oh, my God.

Help! Scorpions!

- Scorpions!

- Maddy!

Help!

Oh, my god!

Et voila!

Et voila.

- La lavande...

- No, no!

La lavande...

Merci.

You're welcome.

You dance very well, Ludivine.

Thank you.

I miss Henry.

He was an excellent dancer.

Yeah.

- Do you want to dance?

- Oh, oh, oh...

Oh, what happened?

Uh, the tennis with

(clears throat) Francis.

Oh, poor boy. Do you

want me to put a bandage?

No.

Antiseptic?

No.

Oh, you are coming

to our house tonight,

manger ce soir, to our home.

Oui.

- Huh?

- Oui.

I am cooking for you, Max.

Merci.

Bonjour.

Vous parlez franais?

Ouais.

Francis Duflot, vigneron.

Christie Roberts.

Illegitimate daughter.

The resemblance to

Henry is unmistakable.

The nose.

For 23 years, I toiled

side-by-side with your father.

Even now, he works from

there and I from here.

That's when I first

planted the vines.

But now they are sad and tired.

Except here.

Here?

No, it's catastrophic.

Nothing but rocks and grief.

Limestones absorb the sunlight.

Keep the vines warm at night.

Wine brat.

I spent summers working

in a vineyard in California.

Oui, mais...

In California, they don't make wine.

They make Hawaiian Punch.

Mondavi might argue with that one.

Maybe Henry's daughter

would be interested in

a personal tour in the vines.

- Okay.

- Okay?

If we are lucky,

his spirit will join us.

Paid to the order

of Francois Hupert, the plumber?

How much?

Uh, 87 francs.

Mm...

sign!

Henry Skinner.

- Next?

- The mechanic.

Not a sous to that grease monkey.

The old Jag's still coughing

like your Aunt Midge.

Next.

Uh, Jean-Pierre Lesourdre.

How much?

How much?

Huh? Uh, okay, okay.

You're a genius, Maximillian.

You could be me.

The photos worked like a charm.

MAX:
Really?

Yeah, massive interest, Max.

Wonderful.

Yes, money, money, money,

money, money.

So I decided it's time

I was on-site.

So I booked a flight.

I'll be with you tomorrow afternoon.

Terrific.

Well, I'll alert the staff

and chain up the dogs.

What do you mean, chain up the dogs?

No, I don't have any dogs,

Charlie, that's a...

that's just a figure of speech,

eh? Okay, bye.

Max!

Pretty cool, huh?

Bonsoir.

a va?

a va...

Allez, we must have an appero.

We must have a big one.

Look at that.

Ah, Ludivine.

Ah, non, non, non,

je ne veux pas- Maxie!

Bonsoir.

Hello.

a va?

a va?

Oh, merci.

C'est gentil, merci, merci, merci...

Of course.

Ah, I took the liberty

of inviting Henry's

daughter to join us.

Pastis?

- Oui.

- Allez.

Bonsoir, coz.

Bonsoir.

I see you've managed

to ingratiate yourself

with the hired help.

Where'd you get the Halston?

Dad's closet.

Ta-da.

I wonder what she wore home.

A simple meal after a day's work

in the fields.

Eggplant...

Caviar de Bergine-very good.

Headless larks.

Where are the heads? We didn't,

like, eat them already, did we?

No, no, no.

Uh, mushrooms of the region.

Et voila...

And finally civet

of wild boar

marinated in red wine and blood

pressed from the carcass.

Why would you have it any other way?

Allez, attaque.

Ludivine?

Help, help.

Wine, Max?

La Siroque?

Mais non.

Uh... Christie?

- Wine?

- No, I'm okay.

Oh, Papa.

Papa speaks Provenal.

You know?

Oh, but very few

still understand it.

It's now exclusively practiced

by poets and sodomites.

What a sodomite is, by the way?

I will explain you tonight.

Francis.

Mmm...

Mmm...

The asparagus is-is lovely.

Mmm, thank you.

Very chewy, but...

Iovely.

Eh, bravo, eh, Ludivine?

And the boar, mmm!

Perhaps the best boar I've had.

Can I have some bread, please?

Oh, yeah.

Francis, Francis?

Papa, donne-moi ca, Papa.

Sorry.

C'est Le Coin Perdu.

It's a local vin de garage, c'est...

"Vin de garage?"

It's a garage wine.

Like a boutique wine.

Small vineyards, small productions.

Seriously big prices.

It's overrated.

It didn't say that on the Web.

Turns out Le Coin Perdu

is a Provenal legend.

It changes hands

among collectors,

but nobody knows who makes it.

Well, uh, it's time for fromage.

Okay?

You want, uh, fromage, cheese?

- Allez.

- Allez.

And now, now...

Papa? Papa?

Trouble you for a spot of the Coin?

You know what it is, Christie?

It is Mar de Provence.

I made it myself.

Wow.

It's a little bit strong.

But very good.

Chin-chin.

It's your father's recipe.

Yes.

Max.

- Little bit?

- Oui, merci.

Tell-Tell us, Madame Duflot,

what is it that makes you so

certain she is Henry's child?

Oh, but of course.

The nose.

Oh, the nose.

The glorious snout.

The prominent proboscis.

Is there something else? Anything?

No? Anything that might help

corroborate Christie's claim?

Henry ever discuss California?

Did he ever mention a woman

in California?

It's funny, isn't it?

Any moments of drunken candor

where he might have mentioned offspring?

No?

I mean, seriously.

Oh, because the last person that

Henry would ever consciously

breed with would be an American.

Yes, but, uh, in this moment,

I see more of Henry in Christie

than I do in you.

Max...

all I want is to learn

about my father.

This is my chance to find

out who made me and...

I don't care if you

believe me or not.

Oh!

Oh.

Monsieur...

Madame...

Papa Duflot...

thanks for a lovely evening.

Oh, Papa will walk you back.

No, Ludivine, no.

The vines will guide me.

Bonsoir.

Good night.

- Whoa.

- It's okay?

I'm okay.

Oh.

What are you doing?

I lost my shoe.

What?

I lost my shoe.

Why can't Henry be my dad?

Well, because now that

he's back in my life,

I'm not sure that

I want to share him.

You don't believe me, do you?

Look, Christie, it's not a matter of that.

Ludivine told me your parents

died when you were young.

You know, I... grew up

without a dad, too.

Doesn't it matter to you

that I may be the only

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