[Cult Wine (2)]
Toward evening, the sunset cast a serene, golden glow over Chloe’s home at the Deer Ridge Country Club. It was a beautiful sight, yet the atmosphere inside the house was far from warm.
A simple meal was laid out on the table alongside a bottle of wine, but Frederick’s face was set in a hard, grim expression. His children, Brandon and Chloe, as well as his wife, Amelia, were all treading carefully, wary of his mood.
"If you keep acting like this, how are the kids supposed to eat?"
Amelia, unable to watch any longer, finally spoke up. Frederick’s expression softened instantly.
"Oh, right. Let's eat."
He said the words, but Amelia was displeased to see him repeatedly sipping his wine rather than touching his food. She tapped his plate with her fork.
"It's the lamb you like. Eat up."
Frederick nodded, chewing the meat without much enthusiasm. Soon, he turned his gaze toward Brandon, who was sitting at the end of the table with his head bowed, silently swallowing his food. He spoke cautiously.
"Brandon, how about you just live a normal life?"
Brandon’s head lifted slowly.
"Pardon?"
"No matter that you're a farmer's son, look at my friends or the children of the association members—many of them work regular jobs. Some follow their parents into farming, but many don't. Even if you didn't go to a top-tier school, you can make a living if you set your mind to it. If you learn a proper trade, you could make a six-figure salary, even if the work is physically demanding."
His tone was calm, but it made the air at the table heavy.
"A trade?"
"You know the local plumber, Mr. Jensen? He has his own business, so he probably makes at least $200,000 a year."
"......"
"If we sell the farm, we'll get at least $2.5 to $3 million. I intend to leave that money to you, so it’s entirely possible for you to learn a trade like Mr. Jensen and start your own business."
Brandon’s spoon stopped mid-air. It was an unexpected proposal. Frederick wasn't talking about 'giving it to him later'; he was speaking as if he would hand over $2.5 million right now. Strangely, rather than feeling happy, Brandon felt his heart sink.
"You're... selling the farm?"
Frederick nodded.
"I'm not young anymore, am I? When pests spread and the weather turns like it did this year, the harvest is essentially ruined. I’m not blaming you. Even a more experienced farmer than you could be helpless against this, and I’ve had that experience myself. The problem is that these things will keep happening. That’s just farming."
"......"
"If your heart isn't in it, I think it would be better to get a job or learn a trade like others. Even if it’s a job with a lower salary, I’d be fine with it. With $2.5 million, you could expect quite a high return if you put it into dividends and pension assets."
Unlike in Korea, Americans invest a significant portion of their assets into finance—stocks, funds, and pensions. So, Frederick’s proposal to his son wasn't particularly unusual.
Brandon lowered his head. In the past, he would have jumped at the offer. He would have thought about buying a car, chasing girls, and having a good time with that money.
Of course, he was still interested in women and didn't mind having fun. In fact, there were many times when he would farm during the day and drive to a club in the evening, and Brandon had considered this behavior quite diligent. While others just played, he was working *and* playing, which even made him look down on his peers who only knew how to party.
"What do you think?"
Brandon thought about his recent life. The days he spent climbing the farm every day, pouring his heart into the walnut trees... but the moment he realized all that effort had gone to waste and the harvest had failed, a wave of emptiness and disappointment had washed over him.
Honestly, getting $2.5 million and leisurely preparing for a career would be a hundred times better, but the words wouldn't come out easily. It was because of his younger sister, Chloe, who was sitting right next to him, mindlessly poking at her salad.
Chloe, who used to seem interested only in having fun, had been acting like someone born to farm ever since she met that Asian man. She hadn't been to a club once, dedicating herself to farming from the moment she woke up until she closed her eyes. And for some reason, he envied that. It wasn't because she looked tired or annoyed by the farm, but because she had a joyful expression every single day.
He still couldn't understand why his sister enjoyed farming so much. But she had taken out a loan of over $1 million on her own to bear the burden of farming, and as her older brother, it felt shameful to be the one running away.
After a moment of hesitation, Brandon took a breath and spoke in a low, firm voice.
"...Give me one more chance."
Frederick’s hand froze at the unexpected words.
"What did you say?"
"This year was my mistake. I was underprepared, and I took the climate too lightly. But next year will be different. A year like this won't happen again."
There was a resolve in his son’s eyes that Frederick felt was similar to the look Chloe had when she first opposed using pesticides to control pests, fearing it would damage the cherry trees.
Frederick watched those eyes for a long time before speaking quietly.
"If we sell the farm, you'll have at least $2.5 million in your hands. You're going to give that up to keep farming?"
"It's not giving it up; we can always sell it later. I just really want to try it before then."
Brandon wasn't the only one emotionally devastated by the failure of the walnut harvest this year. Frederick had been struggling with it too, which was why he had seriously considered the situation and asked for his son’s opinion, secretly expecting him to give up the farm.
That was why his son’s answer was completely unexpected.
"...Fine. Eat."
"Yes."
Frederick didn't say anything more and picked up his wine again, but his wife, Amelia, could feel that her husband’s mood had improved significantly. His expression had become much more relaxed.
After the meal, the children returned to their rooms, and Frederick and Amelia, left alone, continued their conversation over wine in the quiet house.
"Were you really planning to leave the proceeds from selling the farm to Brandon?"
"Why? Does it sound like a lie?"
"You don't usually trust Brandon. Didn't you say before that handing money to someone at a young age ruins them?"
"That's true. I still think the same. That’s why what I mentioned earlier was conditional on an asset manager handling it. I was only going to let Brandon use about $100,000 of it."
"So he'd just get a taste of the money, and the rest would be untouchable? He would have bought one nice car he wanted so badly and that would be it."
"Still, I was going to let him use the dividends or whatever else came out of it. Even with just that, he could live comfortably without ever having to work a day in his life, couldn't he?"
"I suppose that's true..."
"The problem is..."
Frederick’s hand, which had been swirling his wine glass, stopped abruptly. He continued with a sunken gaze.
"It's the walnut farm right now... the weather is so erratic that the variety itself can't hold up. No matter how well we do, there’s no profit left. Cherries are a collaboration with Brian, so we can maximize profits through the wine, but walnuts don't have that. That’s why even Brian doesn't bother thinking about collaborating."
"So you're saying even if Brandon succeeds in walnut farming on his own, there's nothing left? Come on, we've still made a decent profit from walnuts every year."
Amelia was a farmer’s wife, too. She wasn't someone who only knew about housework and nothing else.
"Have my standards gotten too high?"
"That's true. Brian has raised your standards too high. The unit price for cherries has gone up a lot compared to the past, but you know you can't think about the old prices when you calculate costs these days, right?"
"Hmm... but I don't ask for more without a reason. Our cherries are that special."
"I know. But it's also true that because of that, the walnut farm looks even more insignificant."
"......"
His wife was right. In the past, he would have been satisfied with the profits from the walnut farm alone, but the problem was that now, it seemed far too small.
"Still, I'm proud of Brandon. He's been working so hard lately, even if he's intimidated by you."
"Do you think I don't know that?"
"If you know it, why don't you show it?"
"......"
"Anyway, is that why you suggested selling the farm? Because even to you, the work is hard and the profit is low, so you were going to sell it while saying it would be good for him if he just agreed?"
Frederick nodded honestly.
"That's right. I naturally assumed Brandon would agree, but the kid has changed a bit. I’m happy about it, but also disappointed... It’s not a problem to wait another year, but I’m worried."
"Why don't you ask Brian again?"
Amelia set down her glass and smiled softly.
"He’s the one who suggested pear farming instead of tomatoes. I don't know how that will turn out, but if you ask him proactively, couldn't he suggest other alternatives?"
"You mean changing the variety? Like choosing pears instead of tomatoes?"
"If Brandon agrees, I’m wondering if that would be better in the long run."
Changing varieties is harder than changing jobs. It requires tearing down all the infrastructure invested in and cultivated over the years, and then raising more capital to convert the environment to suit the new crop.
That was why Chloe’s choice was something not just anyone could do.
"Hmm, alright. I'll do that."
Could Brian give him the answer again this time? Frederick’s contemplation only deepened.
The vineyard, with August just around the corner, requires as much careful management as a high school senior preparing for college entrance exams. Since the land had grown quite large, including the original Redwood and the newly acquired Ironwood Cellars, I had to eat lunch quickly just to inspect everything. Waking up early in the morning was a given.
Especially for me, as someone for whom composing the wine is crucial, the days felt even shorter when I considered the preparations needed to create a new *cult* wine in the aging room.
"How to handle the flavor, and how to compose the story..."
What determines the price of wine is not just the taste, but the scarcity and the story. So, how to construct that story was my biggest concern these days.
I was deep in thought in front of the massive stainless steel tanks in the aging room when I received a call from Frederick.
"Yes, Mr. Frederick."
"I have a dilemma. Actually..."
After listening to his story, I let out a bitter laugh. I could tell just how deeply he was struggling.
"I understand. I'll be there now."
I was busy, but I wasn't so busy that I couldn't offer advice to Frederick, with whom I had a strategic business partnership. Arriving at the Deer Ridge Country Club, I stood with Frederick, looking out at the golf course in front of the house, and we began to talk.
"So, you're saying you might be able to grow a different crop instead of walnuts?"
"That's right. Just like you suggested pears instead of tomatoes."
"Hmm... and Brandon is the one doing it?"
Frederick, looking slightly embarrassed, hurriedly excused himself.
"Don't worry, I'll be helping him too."
"Haa..."
"Why? Is it difficult? I understand it could be."
"The crop itself doesn't seem that difficult..."
His proposal wasn't such a difficult question for me. Looking at it from the perspective of 2006, I knew a few crops that, if prepared now, wouldn't necessarily be a massive jackpot, but would certainly be profitable enough.
The problem would be the various environmental conditions.
"Then?"
"Two things come to mind. One is blueberries."
"Blueberries? Would that make money?"
At the time, blueberries weren't a highly sought-after crop. So, if we entered the market now and secured a foothold, we could gain profits that would differentiate us from walnut farming.
"Probably? That’s what I think."
However, because it wasn't a crop he had seen much of in the market, Frederick couldn't easily show a positive attitude. When choosing a crop, there naturally has to be something shown in the numbers, and blueberries were clearly lacking in that regard at the moment; above all, the perception that it was an unfamiliar crop was likely a major factor.
"Hmm... and the other one?"
"Almonds."
His eyes widened in surprise.
"Almonds?"
"Yes, almonds."
"Almonds, almonds..."
Curiosity began to fill his eyes. He couldn't possibly be unaware that almonds were slowly starting to get attention in the market at this point. The strange thing was that 2006 was just before the gold rush for almonds, and prices were already beginning to stir in the market.
"But almonds require a large initial investment, and the first harvest takes too long. It takes at least 4 to 5 years."
"That's true."
"So, what if... what if you sell the walnut farm and buy an almond farm?"
At my question, his eyes widened even further.
"You mean... change the farm?"
"We had to start from scratch with *Shingo* pears because there were no large-scale farms in California, but almonds are different."
At first, he had been confused by the idea of selling the farm, but soon, his expression began to change, little by little.
"Sell it and buy it again...?"