“If you farm like this, your Merlot is going to have problems. Tsk, tsk, tsk...”
When I clicked my tongue and shook my head, Cedric approached with gleaming eyes, holding a rusty, sharp pair of pruning shears.
“What problems?”
At that moment, Cedric’s son Leo, who had been fidgeting behind him, hurriedly grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away.
“Mr. Brian, please, just leave. Once Father starts having an episode, he stays like this for days. You were unlucky. He was still lucid this morning...”
But I gently removed Leo’s hand. My gaze was fixed not on the tip of the shears threatening me, but on the fallen grapevine leaves rolling around at the old man’s feet. Slowly, very slowly, I knelt down and picked up one of the leaves lying on the ground.
“Look. The spaces between the veins are turning yellow, like they’re burning.”
Cedric slowly approached the leaf I was holding and stared at it blankly.
Cedric’s pupils wavered. Even if he was trapped in the vast fog of dementia, the instincts of a farmer who had devoted his entire life to soil and trees could not have vanished. Without lowering the hand that held the shears, he stared hard at the leaf in my hand.
“That’s... It’s autumn, so of course...”
“Oh, come on. This isn’t autumn color. It’s a toxic reaction caused by nitrogen toxicity. Sir, you gave this sticky clay field plenty of organic fertilizer, didn’t you?”
Even though the tip of the old man’s shears had come within a handspan of my chest, I continued speaking without blinking.
“Coombsville’s dew point is between 7°C and 11°C, and the groundwater level is lower than you think.”
“What are you talking about? Why would the dew point be that low? And why would the groundwater level drop?”
“I’m right. You’ll know if you check the temperature at dawn. And Napa Valley’s water level is low because of long-term drought and reckless well development. That’s why the vines have been damaged. Tsk, tsk, tsk...”
“That can’t be...”
At the words that the vines had been damaged because of his mistake, Cedric’s face fell. He had spent his whole life thinking of grapevines as his own children, so the sight of leaves yellowing as if burned pained him.
I pretended not to notice and kept talking.
“So those precious fertilizers you gave them are now suffocating the roots of the vines. The vines can’t breathe, so they’re spewing poison out through the tips of their leaves. Are you really going to leave them like this?”
Cedric’s arm began to tremble faintly. Strange curiosity and bewilderment crossed the face that had been filled with rage. He snatched the leaf from my hand and examined it, narrowing his presbyopic eyes.
“Nitrogen toxicity? What I gave them was the finest compost. I gave it to them so the vines would regain their strength!”
“Unfortunately, it was too much fertilizer. Right now, the soil of Lapis Lazuli is beyond full—it has indigestion. Look here. See how the tips of the shoots haven’t lignified properly and are all limp? If winter comes like this, these vines will suffer winter injury and all die.”
After saying that, I turned my head and asked his children.
“You have a portable refractometer and an acidity meter here, don’t you?”
Realistically, there was no way a proper vineyard wouldn’t have equipment like that. Leo looked flustered for a moment, then quickly ran inside and came back with the equipment.
After taking the equipment, I held it against the trunk of the old vine before me and muttered the readings.
“The pH has shot up to 3.8. The potassium levels are definitely abnormal. The optimal pH is 3.4 to 3.5. At this rate, the wine will lose its fresh fruitiness and taste ‘flabby.’”
“T-then why are the potassium levels abnormal?”
“The reason the pH has shot up like this is because of excessive potassium in the soil. You gave them too much fertilizer out of love for the vines, and it made them sick instead.”
Shocked, Cedric dropped the shears to the ground with a dull clatter, his face crestfallen. Then, like a child, he sank down onto the ground and stroked the base of a vine.
“No wonder... The children kept drooping this year. I thought it was because I’d gotten old... Were these fellows sick too?”
Leo and his sister Rose, watching this scene from behind, looked as if they had seen a ghost. The first-rate winemakers William Harlan had sent, and even Napa’s famous consultants, had all fled with their tails between their legs in front of Cedric’s shears. Yet the old man had been disarmed by a few words from a young Asian man he had never seen before.
I crouched down beside the old man. Then I casually spoke to the dejected Cedric.
“It’s not as if there’s no way to fix it...”
Naturally, Cedric snapped his head toward me.
“There is? What way?”
“Ah, but it won’t be easy. Managing this entire farm will be hard... And it’s not something that can be done in just a day or two...”
“So what way is it?”
“There are a few methods, but the first thing to do is water stress management. Coombsville’s deep clay strata hold water for too long. You shouldn’t force it to drain. Instead, you need to make the roots thirsty so they go down in search of the deeper magnesium layer.”
“Make them thirsty? Are you saying you’ll dry the vines to death?”
Cedric asked in surprise.
“To be precise, you’re giving the vines a sense of urgency so they learn to survive on their own before they dry to death. It’s a kind of strategic starvation. If you restrict water only until just before the stomata of the leaves close, the vines, driven by survival instinct, concentrate anthocyanins in the skins. Only then will the velvet-textured Merlot you want be completed.”
“I’ve never heard of such a method.”
Of course he hadn’t. In the 1960s, there was no farming method that deliberately induced water stress. And back then, rainfall was greater than it was now, so even if such a method had existed, it would not have been usable. Only in an environment like the present, with drought continuing year after year, could this farming method be properly implemented.
“It’s a method developed while you weren’t aware of it, sir. This place has the ideal environment for growing Merlot. But unless the right farming methods are applied, it will be difficult to fully bring out the value this land possesses.”
Cedric listened to my explanation as if entranced, then asked,
“Then how do you do it?”
“If I teach you, will you learn?”
“Of course I’ll learn. That way I can produce proper grapes next year, can’t I?”
“That’s right.”
“Then teach me. I’ll work hard to learn.”
That afternoon, a strange scene unfolded at Lapis Lazuli Farm. A ninety-year-old man and a young man in his twenties sat side by side in the field, measuring the acidity of the soil, checking the internode spacing of the branches, and so on. Cedric marveled at the concepts of modern agronomy I explained and took in that knowledge with care.
Watching from afar, Leo quietly whispered to his older sister Rose.
“Sis, this isn’t a dream, right? How long has it been since we saw Father talking so peacefully with someone?”
“More than twenty years, probably. That young man... just who is he? He’s completely bewitched Father.”
Only as the sun began to set did Cedric seem to run out of energy, and he started dozing off with his head leaning against my shoulder. With Leo’s help, I moved the old man indoors. Lying in bed, Cedric would not let go of my hand even in his sleep and murmured,
“Tomorrow too... You have to come tomorrow too and teach me. How to make that blue velvet...”
When I came out to the living room, Leo and Rose were waiting for me, politely offering coffee. The look in their eyes had changed into one of deep trust and desperation, as if they could not let this chance slip away.
“Mr. Brian, thank you so much. It’s like a miracle that Father fell asleep so peacefully.”
Leo spoke in a voice filled with sincerity. I took a sip of coffee and got to the point.
“It’s not a miracle... I think he was lonely. He never once gave up on this land, but his body wouldn’t keep up and the grapes wouldn’t listen to him, so he must have been terribly frustrated. I merely showed him a direction.”
“We know. That’s why even when places like Harlan Estate made offers, we couldn’t persuade Father. But after watching the two of you talk just now, we made up our minds. The person who should take responsibility for this farm is you, Mr. Brian.”
But I knew there was no sincerity in Leo’s words. He was likely convinced that if it was this man—someone his father would not reject—they could sell the farm for its proper value.
Sure enough, Rose picked up from there and tapped the briefcase on the table.
“So, about that. We were thinking it might be best to settle this immediately, while Father’s heart is open like this. We can no longer continue fighting over the farm while caring for our elderly father. Since you seem to understand this farm’s true value, Mr. Brian, how about purchasing it outright instead of doing something complicated like entrusted management?”
I set down my coffee cup and looked at them impassively.
“Purchase it... I’m sure you children have a fair price in mind?”
At my question, Leo spat out the number as if he had been waiting.
“As of 2007, the market price for A-grade farms in places like Oakville or Rutherford has exceeded three hundred thousand dollars per acre. Though Coombsville is treated like an outlying area, as you saw, this is Lapis Lazuli, full of fifty-year-old vines. We’re thinking two hundred fifty thousand dollars per acre. It’s twelve acres, so if you pay a total of three million dollars, we’ll transfer ownership cleanly.”
Three million dollars. At the time, that was a price comparable to a fertile Cabernet Sauvignon farm in the heart of Napa Valley. In the current market, where the value of Merlot had hit rock bottom, anyone would surely call it madness to buy Coombsville’s clay field for that price.
Rose added, as if driving in the final nail.
“You won’t get another chance to acquire old vines of this age in Napa Valley all at once. I’d like to tell you in advance that lowering the price any further is impossible. Harlan has already offered a similar amount. It’s just that Father is refusing to sign. Since you can persuade him, Mr. Brian, shall we prepare the documents tonight?”
Their proposal was blatant. It was the temptation to have him stamp the seal in secret when their father was not in his right mind, or when he had opened his heart to me. Honestly, it was hard to believe that Harlan had offered a similar amount.
I slowly rose from my seat.
“I’ve heard your proposal, but I think I need to talk more with your father first.”
When I did not accept immediately, Leo, growing impatient, asked,
“What’s the reason? Judging by that passionate lecture earlier, you looked as if you wanted to plow up this field right away.”
“Because I haven’t spoken with the real Mr. Cedric yet. The person I spoke with today was still trapped in his memories of the sixties. A major decision like handing over the farm should be made when he is at his clearest, by his own will.”
I put on my coat and continued firmly.
“I’ll come back tomorrow morning. I promised him, you see, that I would teach him more about how to save the grapevines. Tomorrow, I’ll meet him in person, confirm whether he truly wants to share the future of this land with me, and then we can talk about the contract.”
When I opened the door and stepped out, the two children followed me. Rose spoke urgently.
“It might not be resolved that easily. He may deal with you even more strictly.”
“That’s fine. Even if he examines me more strictly, raises the price, and the contract falls through, I’ll still discuss it with him.”
“Why? If Father has mental issues, then legally, we also have rights to this land.”
“...Legally, that may be so. But from my standpoint as a farmer, you have no rights.”
Leo, who had been listening silently, cut in.
“What is that supposed to—! Aren’t you being careless with your words?”
“Not at all. I’m dealing with the owner of Lapis Lazuli. Whether his mind returns or not... the owner of Lapis Lazuli is Cedric. Still, I’ll keep what the two of you said in mind when I negotiate with Mr. Cedric. Well then...”
Leaving the two of them standing there in a daze, at a loss for words, I headed toward my pickup truck. As I looked at the farm lined with enormous valley oaks, my half-day conversation with Cedric, who was living in the past, felt almost like a dream.