The Legend’s New Chapter
I brought him into the winery and introduced him to everyone.
“Well... um... I’d like to introduce my Assistant Winemaker. He’s starting today, quite suddenly. I suppose life is just a series of surprises, which is what makes it interesting, right? Haha...”
In truth, I was the most surprised of all. I knew better than anyone the level of his reputation and his technical expertise.
“Why would someone so incredible... choose a small place like ours?”
My father was stunned, though his shock was likely amplified by the news of Warren’s own winery being sold for a staggering 200 million dollars.
“The feeling that there is still something left for me to learn makes my heart race. My body may be old, but I consider my spirit young, so I am quite satisfied. My own winery has already become a thing of the past, so please forget about that. I am here purely to work.”
Since most of the laborers here were on short-term contracts, my father was the only one who really needed a formal introduction. In reality, no one but me was allowed into the aging room anyway. So, for me, it was a somewhat comfortable arrangement.
After the introductions, I walked him out and said,
“We’ll start the real work next week. Daily attendance is the standard... and for the record, I’m the one who decides the fundamental direction of Redwood wines.”
He looked intrigued, a deep smile playing on his lips.
“Everyone else is usually busy trying to figure out how to pick my brain, but you’re a bit different, aren’t you?”
“It’s the wine I’m making, and it’s my winery. If I weren’t going to do that, I would have just become an investor instead of a farmer.”
Warren didn’t quite grasp the distinction, as if being a farmer or an investor were simple choices. Just because you want to be a successful investor doesn’t mean you become one. But that wasn’t important, so I let it slide.
“Understood. Don’t worry. Besides, when I sold the winery, it was stipulated that I couldn’t sell anything with a blending structure similar to the wines I sold at Stag’s Leap. I can’t make and sell what I used to make, anyway.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Let me ask you one thing. You don’t want my knowledge, so why did you accept my application?”
“Hmm... because I thought it would be fun.”
At my answer, he nodded.
“Same as me. That’s enough of a reason.”
With that, he climbed into the Ford pickup truck parked in front of the farm and drove away. It was a bit unexpected, considering how much money he’d made, that he drove a Ford pickup.
“Is he frugal? Well, I suppose if you’re applying for a job, showing up in a Rolls-Royce would be a bit much.”
I turned around and headed back into the winery. I quickly forgot about his hiring and buried myself in the aging room to continue my research.
If you leave Redwood and drive for a while, it doesn’t take long to reach the Mondavi Winery. As Warren arrived, Mondavi, who had been strolling through the garden, gestured for him to follow toward a spot blooming with vibrant flowers.
“I wonder who will take care of this if I’m not here anymore.”
The scent of flowers hung heavy around the white table. Warren, who knew how much Mondavi loved this place, gave a bitter smile.
“Not all children follow their parents’ wishes. I was the same. My parents wanted me to be a professor.”
“That’s right. You majored in political science at the University of Chicago, didn’t you?”
“Correct. I was obsessed with Machiavelli back then. Then, while studying abroad in Italy, I suddenly fell in love with wine and veered off the path... and here I am. If Mr. Mondavi’s garden is maintained, that would be meaningful, but even if change comes, wouldn’t that also be meaningful?”
“A sad affair.”
“Still, I know how sincere your children are about wine, so this garden will likely be well-maintained.”
Everyone knew Mondavi’s death wasn’t far off. But because they were people who had already willingly accepted their mortality, their tone was calm and their expressions serene.
The staff immediately recognized the important guest, so without being asked, two cups of black tea were placed before them.
“It’s not my place to say this to someone who sold their winery, but human greed is endless—I just hope this garden, at least, is kept well.”
“It will be. And I’m not feeling that down, actually.”
Seeing Warren’s face full of smiles, Mondavi tilted his head. He even had a faint flush, as if he’d become ten years younger. It wasn’t that he had truly aged backward, but his face had such vitality that it created that atmosphere.
“Is there some good news? You look well.”
“I got a job.”
Mondavi, who had been bringing his teacup to his lips, froze.
“You did what?”
“I got a job.”
Mondavi slowly set his cup down.
“I heard rumors about removing non-compete clauses during the sale, but was that actually true? They’re letting you make wine somewhere else?”
“Let me repeat: I didn’t acquire a winery; I ‘got a job.’ And while removing the non-compete clause, I also agreed not to use any of the blending combinations I created at Stag’s Leap at another winery. It’s literally just a job.”
“......”
“It’s been a long time since I had to write a resume—not since I joined your family’s business—so it was quite a struggle. But as I wrote it, I found it interesting... I could look back at how I’d lived my life. I was quite satisfied with it.”
Mondavi didn’t hear a word of what followed. He had no interest in the emotions Warren felt while writing a resume.
“So, where did you get hired?”
“The place you recommended, sir.”
“Don’t tell me... you mean Redwood?”
“Yes.”
Mondavi’s jaw dropped. After collecting his thoughts for a long moment, he spoke to Warren, who was sipping his tea with a satisfied expression.
“That wasn’t my intention when I recommended Redwood to you.”
“What does that matter? I met the young man there in person and talked with him... he was good. His thinking was fresh. So, I decided to learn under him.”
“You’re learning under that young man?”
It was unbelievable, but Warren spoke with a look of pure excitement.
“Think about it. I’ve lived arrogantly, thinking there was nothing left for me to learn, and then I discovered someone who seems even more capable than I am. I felt the same way I did when I worked under you, Mr. Mondavi. The desire to learn...”
“Amazing.”
“Actually, I’m glad my winery is gone. If it hadn’t been sold, I wouldn’t have been able to move so freely. My sons have no interest in wine, so I can do as I please even more.”
“You look happy.”
“Isn’t it rare to find such joy in one’s twilight years?”
“Haha... true. You’re a hundred percent right.”
Mondavi offered a faint smile and looked at him with genuine envy.
“Selling the winery was a good thing for you after all.”
“I’ve gained fame and wealth, so I think I’ll just study until I die.”
“I’m envious. Will that young man at Redwood like it, too? He’s about to catch the eyes of wine enthusiasts all at once...”
“Well, he told me not to come and ruin his wine for no reason.”
Mondavi wore an incredulous expression at the remark, which seemed to dismiss Warren Winiarski himself.
“Really?”
“That’s why I’m even more excited. A winemaker who doesn’t rely on me...”
Mondavi, who had initially looked at the excited Warren with envy, found his expression hardening as time passed.
After they talked for a while and Warren left, Mondavi walked into the winery with a deeply somber look in his eyes. Just then, a young woman who had come to greet him approached. It was Emily, Mondavi’s granddaughter, who had previously worked on the Winkler dinner course with Brian.
Young and full of life, Emily supported her grandfather’s arm as he walked slowly with his cane and asked,
“Did Grandpa Warren already leave?”
“Yes.”
Sensing that something was off, Emily asked,
“Did something bad happen?”
“Not bad, per se...”
He looked at his granddaughter’s face for a moment before relaxing his stiff expression.
“I was just worried. It was nothing.”
“What were you worried about?”
“Never mind. Come to think of it, it wasn’t something I needed to worry about. I can’t solve everything for everyone...”
He shook his head, trying to forget the unpleasant thoughts, and continued walking.
The rumor that Warren would be working at Redwood Winery spread in an instant, shaking the entire Napa Valley. The place most shocked by this was the school I attended.
“Is it true that Mr. Warren will be working at your winery?”
Dean Thomas called me in to ask as soon as he heard the rumor. Even for the Dean, Warren was essentially a master, so he had been certain the rumor couldn’t be true.
But my follow-up answer left him stunned.
“It is true, but...”
“It’s true? You didn’t acquire the winery, but Mr. Warren actually got a job at your winery?”
“Yes...”
The atmosphere felt as if I’d made a grave mistake. I had allowed it because I thought working with such a great person would be fun, but the people around me seemed to be experiencing a cataclysmic shock.
“My god... what on earth is the reason?”
If I told him the real reason—to learn precise soil composition and target-based grape production—it would be a disaster, so I made up a plausible excuse.
“He said he’s lived under too much pressure for so long that he just wants to quietly make wine in a small place like our farm.”
“Ah... is that what he meant... I suppose, given who he is, he must have lived under immense pressure due to the world’s expectations.”
Seeing Dean Thomas trying to look on the bright side, I barely suppressed a laugh.
“But won’t Mr. Warren joining Redwood be a huge burden on your winery?”
“Oh, not really. We agreed he wouldn’t be leading the wine production. It’s more like... a laboratory concept where he can quietly experiment with wine.”
“If that’s the case, couldn’t he just do that in a school lab...?”
“Well, I suppose he doesn’t want to be tied down to the school.”
He nodded, then asked again,
“Then, will Mr. Warren’s wine be coming out of Redwood in the future?”
“There are no plans for that for the time being.”
“Really? I suppose... if Mr. Warren were to release wine under his own name, your winery couldn’t handle the salary. And you couldn’t release an ultra-premium cult wine, either... Anyway, I understand. What incredible luck... The goddess of fortune must be clinging to you. I’m very envious.”
“Yes... thank you.”
The explanations didn’t stop with Dean Thomas. Every time I went to class, professors bombarded me with questions, and I had to repeat the same repertoire. It was tedious, but I could handle it. I figured it was just a form of interest.
However, the guest who came to visit near the end of the school day was truly unique.
“I visited Redwood Winery, but the owner wasn’t there, and they pointed me to you.”
“Who might you be...?”
“I’m Brad Cooper from Ste. Michelle Wine Estates.”
The middle-aged man with slicked-back, greasy hair was very handsome.
“I know who you are. You’ve come from a famous place.”
He scanned me up and down and spoke in a highly condescending tone.
“I heard the news that Mr. Warren has joined your winery. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he can never again use the blending combinations he previously used.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure you do. Still, I want to give you one warning. When you run a company, you’ll eventually get greedy. You might want to release wine using Mr. Warren’s reputation, but you must refrain. If you make a mistake, it will cause great harm to your winery.”
“Don’t worry about that. That will never happen.”
He raised one corner of his mouth and let out a soft snort.
“Hmph, will that resolve last until the end? You shouldn’t forget that we are watching.”
At that, I felt a flash of anger.
“Suit yourself. But I have the ability to make good wine even without Mr. Warren... Ah, I’m not sure if Ste. Michelle has the ability to make such wine, so I don’t know if you’re qualified to evaluate my wine.”
Ste. Michelle Wine Estates was a company that had grown based on stable quality and large-scale production. Since their flagship lines were $10–$30 wines, it was correct to view them as a company with a completely different direction than Stag’s Leap.
As Ste. Michelle had entered the top tier of the U.S. wine industry with that direction, Brad, the Vice President, seemed stung by my words. He said with a hardened face,
“Listen here, you Asian kid. If you rely on a farm of only a few dozen acres and a Mr. Warren who can’t even show his true skills, and you keep acting so arrogant, there will come a day when you’ll deeply regret it.”
“I’m not relying on Mr. Warren... First, try beating me at the next San Francisco Chronicle. Ah, Ste. Michelle won’t do, you’ll probably release it under Stag’s Leap. Anyway, you work hard, too. Don’t worry about us.”
I smiled as I walked past him, while he glared at me, gritting his teeth.