Champagne Problems

O N E

All right, ladies and gentlemen," the sound of a small teaspoon tapping against a €350 champagne glass rang out clearly in the grand ballroom, silencing the lively conversations. Every guest, seated around the long table arranged in a square shape, turned their attention to the man standing at the head.

Monsieur Arnault, a distinguished figure with silver hair and a stately presence, held the glass aloft. "First and foremost, I would like to extend a warm welcome to all of you on behalf of myself, my wife, and our beloved grandchildren, Benoit and Daphné," he announced, his voice resonating with the authority of a man accustomed to being listened to. The Arnault siblings, both in their late teens, exchanged a glance and smiled at their grandfather, the pride in their eyes evident.

Benoit, with his chiseled features and deep-set eyes, embodied the classic elegance of his family name, while Daphné, with her delicate frame and doe-like brown eyes, had a softer, more introspective beauty. They had grown up in the lap of luxury, under the watchful eyes of their grandparents, ever since the tragic accident that had claimed their parents' lives.

"I want to thank you all for joining us to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. It's truly heartwarming to see so many familiar faces gathered here. I wish you all as much happiness in your own marriages as I have been fortunate enough to experience in mine," Monsieur Arnault continued, his voice growing more tender as he reached for his wife's hand. The affection between the two was palpable, a testament to the decades they had spent together.

The guests erupted into applause, a spontaneous show of respect and admiration for the couple. Madame Arnault, still graceful despite her years, beamed at her husband before addressing the guests. "We've just enjoyed a marvelous brunch prepared by the legendary Chef Bocuse. Let's give him a round of applause for the exquisite meal," she said, her voice warm and welcoming. The room filled with enthusiastic clapping, a tribute to the culinary genius who had crafted the meal.

As the applause died down, Madame Arnault added, "Now, I would like to invite you all to join us on the dance floor." Her tone was inviting, but there was a hint of expectation in it—an expectation that no one would decline such an invitation.

Soft classical music, Mozart's finest compositions, began to play, filling the hall with a serene yet celebratory atmosphere. The music, however, did little to excite Daphné, who had never shared her grandparents' love for such refined tunes. Her tastes veered toward something more modern, something with a beat, a rhythm she could lose herself in. But she knew better than to express such thoughts aloud. Her grandparents, particularly her grandfather, had always been strict about maintaining the family's dignity, and listening to what they referred to as 'that dreadful modern music' was certainly not encouraged.

As she stood there, watching the couples begin to make their way to the dance floor, Daphné's mind wandered back to the time just after her parents' accident. Life had changed drastically then. She and Benoit had been forced to adhere to a new set of rules, ones dictated by the old-fashioned values of their grandparents. It wasn't an easy transition, especially for Benoit, who had always been more of a free spirit, more rebellious by nature. He despised the constraints, the expectations, the weight of the family name that hung over him like a shadow. But despite his resistance, he had come to understand that, for the sake of their family, it was necessary to comply, to put aside his personal desires.

"May I have this dance, dear sister?" Benoit's voice broke into her thoughts. He had appeared by her side, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he extended a hand toward her.

Daphné looked up at him, her thoughts still lingering on the past. "Of course, Benoit," she replied, placing her hand in his. As he led her to the dance floor, she noticed the envious glances from some of the younger women in the room. Benoit was undeniably handsome, with his well-groomed appearance and effortless charm. But what they didn't know, what they couldn't see, was the turmoil that often lay just beneath the surface.