Excerpt: Generations

The Morel family was well-known in the village, it was true. Well established in the region, Monsieur Morel, the father, had created a wholesale system of wines, of great quality or poor, that spanned throughout the whole of Picardy and leaked into Normandy in times of prosperity. He had died in the war of a bad flu, and his son, a young man in his early twenties, had been able to take over the trade for a while. The transition had happened almost naturally, though Madame Morel had found it difficult to treat her second child with the respect one owed the head of a family.

Yet, that was exactly the position Raymond Morel was in - filled with ideas and growing thoughts, he was working on a new list of products which he believed would attract increased customer interest. His only fault was that he enjoyed life too much, which made him a cherished supplier within the community of innkeepers and restaurant owners who purchased his stock, but also made him waste innumerable hours in socialization.

Marie, in the meantime, made only a listening sound that was very polite, and sighed at the old lady, discreetly. "Oui, Madame Morel," she replied, shrugging a little.

Raymond Morel was gentle to her, at least. By comparison to his sister, older and ugly, he was a joy to have around. He always wandered up to see his mother when Marie was at her bedside, and sometimes he took a moment to slip her a shy, discreet little present, a flower, a brooch, a note, or some coin for a refreshment. She blushed and the presents disappeared in her apron, though if she were earnest about her feelings, she certainly was not falling for him.

Too broad. Too stout. Raymond was like a bulldog, heavy and calm, joyful but remotely uninteresting. He went to church and did his aves, but he didn't seem to think there would ever be more to life than his commerce and the rounds he did all over the department.