[Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars (3)]

Warren Winiarski returned home and sat in his chair in the study, lost in thought after a shocking experience.

'Good grapes? Hmm... Sugar content, total acidity, pigments, seed maturity, skin maturity, berry size... If I dig into the specifics, there’s just too much, isn't there?'

It was an answer he had never heard before.

"Have I been under-studying?"

The technical requirements for cultivating grapes to make fine wine were things one could learn in school. In particular, UC Davis, which he and most wineries in Napa Valley were close to and learned from, provided a solid academic foundation.

But that young man’s answer went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a step further. He had already established an idealized form of a grape in his mind and was cultivating the vines to match it. This was a method of viticulture that even Warren hadn't dared to attempt yet.

No, no one would have even thought of it. The identity of a wine comes from the terroir, and wine enthusiasts are people who drink while praising the special terroir inherent to each wine.

Yet, that young man seemed to be shaping the terroir with his own idealized grape in mind. It sounded absurd, but the look in the young man’s eyes gave Warren the conviction that he was right.

Whether a proper grape would actually emerge from such artificially constructed terroir was unknown. It would likely end in failure.

But Warren’s heart was racing.

"It reminds me of the old days."

Warren recalled the 1970s, when he worked for the Mondavi family with a burning passion for wine.

"Damn it! What are you doing! Can't you focus? The grapes are losing their vitality!"

Back when he was much younger, whenever Robert Mondavi would get mud on his hands and shout, Warren couldn't help but feel devastated.

"Look closely. Wine begins with color, even before the aroma. If the color isn't good, people won't reach for it. And a wine with a beautiful hue is decided right at the threshold of autumn."

"You think this is fine? Is there something wrong with your tongue? Can't you feel this sagging sensation at all?"

Mr. Mondavi’s teachings were sometimes meticulous, sometimes intense. It was difficult at the time, but Warren believed those memories had made him who he was today. No, to be honest, it hadn't even been that hard.

'It was fun, like crazy...'

It was a time when studying grapes and wine was the most fun thing in the world. So, even when he was scolded, his passion never cooled; if anything, he just gritted his teeth.

He wanted to show him. He wanted to prove right in front of him that he was the winemaker who would lead the new generation.

The farm and winery he acquired after going independent, and the unforgettable memory of the Judgment of Paris... Thinking back, it all felt like a dream.

"Grandpa!"

Suddenly, a voice called out to him—his lovely granddaughter, Jenny.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Dad said he'd take me on a light aircraft tour ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this summer vacation!"

It seemed Jonathan had finally granted the wish she had wanted so badly.

"Grandpa is worried."

"Dad said he hired the best pilot. I'll make sure to come back safely."

"I hope so."

His granddaughter left, breaking his train of thought. Jonathan followed her inside.

"Haha, she couldn't wait and went around bragging to everyone. Huh? Are you tired?"

"Not tired, just..."

"You said you went somewhere earlier?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Warren looked at Jonathan quietly before asking.

"What do you think about receiving payment in installments rather than all at once?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I... I don't like the Michelle Wine Estates, and the same goes for that Italian family."

"Father... that’s all settled."

"Actually, I visited a winery earlier..."

Before Warren could finish, Jonathan raised his voice.

"Father! What are you really talking about! We already talked to Brad and everything is decided. Is it because of the price? Sigh, I get it. I’ll try to appeal that part a bit more."

"The price isn't the problem. If money were the issue, I wouldn't be telling you to accept installments."

Jonathan, running a hand through his hair, suddenly thought of something.

"Are you trying to sell it to the Mondavi family?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you? Right? I’m absolutely against it. Don't keep close ties with that family anymore."

At his son's words, Warren closed his eyes. He knew why Jonathan disliked the Mondavi family. All the children in that family were working hard to inherit the wine business, and Jonathan hated being compared to them because he couldn't do the same.

"It's not Mondavi. And if it were Mondavi, there would be no reason to ask for installments."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Thinking that made sense, Jonathan asked.

"Then where is it? Ah! Don't tell me. I don't even want to hear it. Anyway, it was decided through a family meeting, so I hope you don't decide on your own, Father."

Disappointed and angry, Jonathan slammed the study door and left.

"Sigh..."

Warren let out a sigh, scratching his white hair in deep thought.

'It’s a winery to be sold anyway; am I holding onto it too much? It won't be mine anymore. Do I think Stag’s Leap will be mine forever? Is it me who needs to wake up?'

He reflected on himself for a long time. Then, at some point, he made a decision and stood up. After changing his clothes simply, he walked slowly toward a winery not far from his house.

"You've arrived."

The staff bowed respectfully as soon as they saw him, and he waved his hand lightly as he headed to the office.

"Sir, what brings you here...?"

Hudson, the General Manager (GM), approached and asked. Having worked there for over ten years, he managed all the affairs of the winery.

"I... want to talk about one more place."

"Yes? What do you mean?"

"The acquisition negotiator."

At Warren's short reply, Hudson’s pupils shook as if hit by an earthquake.

"Do you have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone you've spoken to?"

"No."

"Then... Michelle Wine Estates will be quite disappointed."

"That doesn't matter."

At his boss's firm reply, Hudson realized there was no room for persuasion and stopped asking.

"What should I do?"

"Send an email. The recipient is Redwood Winery."

Hudson’s eyes widened as he stared at the owner of the winery.

"Redwood? The small winery in southern Napa?"

"That's right."

"The one famous for... Achelon and Sylphid..."

"That's right, too."

"...That winery wouldn't have 20 million dollars, let alone 200 million."

"I am considering installment payments."

Seeing that his mind was made up, Hudson quickly began typing away at his desk.

"But you said... you hadn't spoken to them, right?"

"Yes. They don't know yet."

"Then, what about the price or the terms...?"

"It's not about that. Ask them if they are interested in our winery being sold. Tell them we are offering a price range close to what other wineries have suggested, and that payment can be made in installments, so if they are interested, let's have a meeting."

The email content itself was an absurdly humble request.

"Just out of curiosity, is there a reason you chose Redwood?"

Warren, stroking the cane in his hand, wore a faint smile.

"Because I think it would be fun."

"Fun... you say?"

"I’m heart-poundingly curious about how it will develop if that friend runs our winery."

It was an incomprehensible answer, but Hudson, having seen a certain ecstasy in his boss's eyes, finished writing the email and sent it.

"Sent."

"They might think it's a prank or spam, so if there's no reply after two days, print the email and deliver it directly to the winery."

"Understood."

Hudson’s lips went dry. Since it was sent from the company account, the staff might find out sooner or later, and above all, Warren’s sons were checking the company email account every day regarding the acquisition issue.

If they found out this had been sent externally, it was certain to turn everything upside down.

"What is all this? Brother! Did you see this?"

Andrew, Warren’s eldest son, who had just returned from his trip, frowned at his younger brother who had suddenly burst into his room.

"What are you doing? What if my wife had been changing clothes?"

At his brother’s hardened face, Jonathan raised his hands.

"Sorry... I was just so shocked."

"What is it?"

"Look at this."

Jonathan handed him a document. When he looked at it, he realized it was an email sent from the company account to another winery. The content was shocking enough to blow away the fatigue of his trip in an instant.

"What is this?"

"Exactly! That’s what I’m saying."

"Father, where is Father?"

The two brothers ran toward their father’s study. But their father was not in the study. They asked his wife and the household staff, but no one knew.

Just then, Jenny, who had been playing in her room, came down.

"Looking for Grandpa? He went out a while ago."

"He went out? Where?"

"When I asked him where he was going, he said he was going to the Mondavi winery."

The two brothers looked at each other and ran outside.

"He’s planning to sign a contract at Mondavi!"

"We have to stop him!"

The two brothers hurriedly got into the car and headed to Mondavi. Upon arriving at the winery, they asked the staff.

"Our father is inside, right? We'll go in and see him for a moment."

Since they were already famous in the neighborhood and very close, no staff stopped the two brothers. And then,

"Father!"

The two, who had slammed the door open, froze as they saw the two old men sitting across from each other on the sofa.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Warren’s annoyed face contrasted with Mondavi’s subtle expression, which seemed like he might laugh at any moment.

"No... we apologize. We were so shocked that we rushed over."

No matter how urgent, they knew the proper etiquette, so the two brothers apologized to Mondavi first. Mondavi, guessing the situation, waved his hand to indicate it was fine.

Judging by his gentle smile, it was clear that Mondavi simply found the situation amusing.

"Father, what is this? The sale was already decided."

"Tsk tsk tsk... you didn't even read the email properly. Why? Did you rush over because you were afraid I’d secretly sign a contract at Mondavi?"

At their father’s rebuke, the two sons’ faces turned bright red.

"And I said, unless there were special circumstances, we would sell the winery to them, in the family meeting."

At Warren’s reply, Jonathan raised his voice.

"Ha, then what are those special circumstances? There’s no such..."

"I’ve found something I want to learn."

At the unexpected answer, the two sons doubted their ears.

"What?"

"What are you talking about?"

To his confused sons, Warren replied calmly while crossing his legs.

"There’s something I want to learn about grapes, but they won't teach me. So I’m going to sell my winery and learn it."

The two sons couldn't understand at all, despite their father’s calm explanation.

"What are you going to learn? No... and are you saying you can only learn it if you sell the winery?"

"I’m not sure, but I think that’s probably the case."

"Father!"

"You wanted the money, right? Let’s say we sell the winery for a price close to 200 million dollars. You can just receive it in installments instead of all at once. What’s the problem with receiving it over 10 years?"

"We can't do that!"

At Jonathan’s strong shout, Warren’s eyes turned fierce.

"Is it because you have to buy that building in San Jose?"

"Yes! We can't buy it if it's not now!"

"Heh..."

Warren looked at the ceiling and let out a hollow laugh with a frustrated expression, while Mondavi looked at him with pity before saying to his two sons.

"Go back now. And I haven't even been able to bring up the sale with Redwood yet. Don't make such a fuss over nothing."

At those words, realizing that nothing had been accomplished yet, the two sons let out a sigh of relief, bowed their heads, and retreated.

Once Andrew and Jonathan disappeared, Mondavi said with a pitiful expression.

"You seem to have more noise in your head than I do, and I’m closer to death than you are."

"Isn't that life?"

"But what was that earlier? You have something to learn?"

"...... It’s a secret."

Mondavi was dumbfounded by Warren, who turned his head and kept his mouth shut as if it were a real secret.

"What? What is a secret?"

"There is such a thing."

"Ha, that’s... but do you think that friend at Redwood will accept it?"

Warren scratched his white hair and said with a look of more trouble than when he saw his two sons earlier.

"Sigh... that’s the problem... I don't think he will. That seems even harder than dealing with those two."