The way back to Napa Valley felt much longer than usual. The scenery beyond the car window was the very picture of devastation. The entire valley was blanketed in acrid smoke and soot, sunken into the lowlands.
The wineries that clung to traditional smudge-pot methods reeked of burning oil. April in Napa should have been a time when hope sprouted, but that morning, it felt exactly like passing through a funeral hall.
That gloom only lifted after I entered the Redwood district. Instead of smoke and soot, a farm made of transparent crystal, like an ice kingdom, sparkled dreamily in the morning sunlight.
The moment I stepped into the winery office, what greeted me first were a gas stove and its warm heat.
“Dad?”
“Quiet…”
Father pressed his index finger to his lips and whispered. On the sofa beside the gas stove, Elder Warren slept deeply beneath a thick wool blanket.
Having waged a desperate battle all night, he slept with an utterly exhausted face; his normally neat hair was completely disheveled. Father carefully pushed a hot water bottle to the elder’s feet and tucked the blanket around him.
“He toured the farm all night without resting for even a minute. I kept telling him to just come inside, but he wouldn’t listen and kept checking on things until he fell asleep right here. Don’t wake him—he really is a superhuman old man.”
Dad’s eyes held deep respect and affection as he looked at Warren. Watching that peaceful sight of Dad looking after him, I finally felt the tension I’d carried all the way from Brentwood melt away.
“You’ve worked hard, Dad.”
“Hehe… It’s been a really long time since I ran around like that. And this is just what I’m supposed to do, but this elder worked himself to the bone, and your friend and that gentleman came by to help too. They’re eating outside. Your mom worked hard as well—she’s been making and carrying out food all this time.”
Father gestured outside. It was a space set up for the workers to have a simple meal, and going there, I found Armando and Daniel. They were devouring the rice and stew Mom had made, waving at me. Their clothes bore clear, damp marks where pieces of ice had melted.
“Brian! I really thought I was going to die yesterday.”
Armando spoke while mixing kimchi stew with his rice, just like a Korean.
“What about Laguna Creek?”
“Don’t even mention it. Since the elevation is high, freezing winds were blowing like crazy from every direction, and when I ran the sprinklers like you said, the streams got blown away by the wind before they even reached the trees. Water droplets scattered in the air, drifting like fog—it was driving me crazy.”
Daniel, who had been listening beside him, nodded and chimed in.
“It was really touch-and-go. Because of the wind, the water wouldn’t coat evenly, so the ice membrane wouldn’t form. Then Elder Warren called to help us. Following Warren’s instructions, we immediately called the workers and placed smudge pots clack-clack-clack! along the northwest boundary where the wind was coming in, then angled the fans lower than usual to drive the hot air down hard at the ground. We created a wall of wind. Only after forcibly pushing back the external wind did the sprinkler streams begin properly settling on the grapevines.”
Armando continued, recalling the previous night.
“Wow—from then on it was truly a sight to behold. The trees seemed to be turning transparent, you know? Laguna Creek is in a high spot, right? At some point I looked, and bam—it had transformed into a huge glass fortress. It was spectacular. Anyway, after that I got a call from your father and came straight here.”
“You’re not protecting your own farm?”
“Mom’s there, and the workers are quite skilled, so it’s fine. I called this morning and they said there’s no problem at all.”
“That’s a relief. So you’ve been at Redwood the whole time?”
“No, me and this gentleman Daniel went to Coombsville. Lapis Lazuli. Since your father and Elder Warren had to watch Redwood, Silver Oak, and Ironwood, they asked me to go look after that side, so I went there. No problems at all. Lapis Lazuli is frozen solid too.”
“Good work.”
I patted Armando’s shoulder with gratitude.
“Come on, this much is nothing… Didn’t I say farmers all help each other?”
“Did I say that?”
“What, you forgot what you said to Jacob?”
“Ah… right.”
It had been several years, so I’d forgotten, but I remembered. The memory of when I forgave Jacob after he’d discriminated against and harassed me, saying that people who farm all help each other…
“You even arranged for the assistant winemaker from Domaine Leroy to make a specialized wine for our winery, so this much is nothing. Don’t be grateful over something like this between friends.”
Right, we’re friends.
The reason I’d rushed to Chloe’s farm first wasn’t because I held a stake in her farm. It was because my farm had trustworthy people, and her farm had needed me.
Though I might gain some profit by making wine for Armando’s winery, I wasn’t doing it for that profit. Since humans cannot live alone, it is natural to make efforts for relationships rather than for profit.
At that point, Daniel, who had been mixing rice into his kimchi stew, interjected.
“Your mother is an excellent cook. It’s very spicy, but delicious. It’s a taste I’ve never experienced before.”
“It must be quite spicy since it’s your first time.”
“I usually like Mexican food, so I’m good with spicy things.”
“That’s fortunate.”
Perhaps because he was eating something spicy, he wiped away streaming sweat with his glasses and spoke with a serious expression.
“To be honest, I was shocked. Even at Domaine Leroy, I couldn’t have imagined a method like this. Fixing the temperature using the latent heat released as water freezes… At first I thought it was madness, but after seeing the thermometer actually stop at 0 degrees, I got goosebumps. Brian, you should have been a physicist, not a winemaker.”
“There’s nothing special about it. It was already published in academic papers.”
“To say this is nothing special… This year, all of Napa and Sonoma will be devastated by frost damage. I informed Grendel’s father’s farm of this method too, so they got through safely.”
Actually, I’d been wondering why Daniel was here instead of at the Grendel farm, but it seemed Grendel Hill Farm had already prevented the frost damage using the same method before he came.
Suddenly recalling that I hadn’t thought about Heart Farm, which supplied us with Pinot Noir, I was about to go to Dad when Armando spoke.
“Ah, and Heart Farm solved it with sprinklers too.”
“Really?”
“Apparently Daniel’s father, Elias Grendel, told them to just trust him and run the sprinklers. But… since it was a bit late, it seems the yield might be lower than usual.”
“Ah…”
I thought it couldn’t be helped. Farm owners who hadn’t experienced this kind of frost beforehand couldn’t easily be expected to understand preparing with sprinklers.
Afterward, I went back to Dad and heard about each farm’s situation. He said that since they’d turned on the sprinklers the moment they felt the temperature dropping, the entire vast farm spanning 100 acres was imprisoned in ice without a single scratch.
I left Father’s explanation behind and walked out to the vineyard alone. The earth touching the tips of my rubber boots was cold and damp, but the grapevines trapped in ice were vividly alive, as if time had stopped.
The trees looked like works an ice sculptor had carefully crafted. The ice hanging from every branch was as thick as two fingers, but its interior was astonishingly clear.
In the very heart of this disaster that was annihilating Napa Valley’s 2008 vintage, only my trees had crossed death’s threshold and finished preparing to become survivors.
“Haah…”
Only then did strength leave my legs and my body grow heavy like waterlogged cotton.
“I need to rest.”
Only by sleeping now would I be able to endure the frost that would continue in the days ahead.
---
The frost persisted beyond three days, only disappearing after lasting five. To that terrible wrath of the heavens, farm owners had to shed tears of blood.
The vineyards throughout Napa and Sonoma suffered damage worse than from a bombing. It was a frost that would be recorded in history.
From the third day, Warren was forbidden from coming to work at all. At his age, overexerting himself was dangerous—he might even pass away before Robert Mondavi, who was said to be at death’s door. Armando was sent to watch his own farm, and Daniel was told to go to Grendel Hill.
That this was even possible was because systems were in place at the farms. Redwood, Silver Oak, Ironwood, and Lapis Lazuli had all been set up to respond immediately according to temperature.
I continued shuttling between Napa and Lodi, checking the situation. At Lodi’s pear farm, Chloe, who had gotten the hang of it, got through the frost without much trouble, and the cherry farm was the same. The almond farm had suffered considerable damage, but considering insurance, it wasn’t to the extent of a major problem.
“My goodness… To think only Redwood survived so perfectly… I can’t believe it.”
Those whose hearts sank at this historically record-breaking frost weren’t just the farm owners. Middle distributors like Christopher White, who had rushed over to the farm, were no different from us either.
They too were people running businesses on financial loans; if they were suddenly unable to procure goods for unexpected reasons, their businesses could go bankrupt.
So when all the vineyards throughout Napa and Sonoma were completely wiped out, and only Redwood remained perfectly intact, how moving must that have been?
“This year’s vintage will probably be remembered for a long time.”
At my words, Christopher nodded repeatedly with a face that looked as though he might shed tears.
“Yes, yes. Whether it’s Two-Carlon or wherever, they’re saying there’s simply no grape shipment this year. But with only Redwood alive, the value of wine released at the end of this year goes without saying.”
For Christopher, it must be like winning the lottery. Of course, I too was expecting significant profits from having survived.
“But how did you alone manage this…?”
“Well. Everyone will say I responded well, but actually, luck played a part too.”
“Luck?”
It was luck. Redwood’s well wasn’t drilled down to the 300-meter aquifer like the Harris farm that had been worked on recently. So if all the neighboring farms had used sprinklers, the water level would have dropped, causing groundwater depletion where water wouldn’t come out or pressure would drop sharply.
“Well, that’s…”
It was when I was about to answer. In the distance, black sedans—three of them—were entering the farm. At a glance, they exuded an unusual air. The sight of three gleaming, well-maintained black sedans entering consecutively in this countryside was something I’d never seen before.
After the cars stopped at the farm entrance, men of sturdy build in suits got out. One look and they were unmistakably bodyguards.
“Who… are they?”
“I don’t know either.”
I had nothing to say to Christopher’s question. The stout man walking straight toward us was someone I’d never seen before.
The man stopped in front of me, slightly bowed his head, and spoke. But his English pronunciation was somewhat blunt and awkward. I’d often heard this kind of accent in movies… it was exactly the English used by Russians.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brian Choi. I am Andrei. We have come to see a promise fulfilled.”
“A promise? What promise…?”
“You haven’t forgotten your promise with Viktor Karlov, have you?”
For a moment I wondered what he was talking about, but then I recalled one fact.
“Don’t tell me… you mean the birthday party?”
“That is correct. You promised to attend Mr. Viktor’s birthday party.”
My mouth fell open.
“…No, what kind of party invitation is this…?”
“Mr. Viktor’s birthday is in three days. The plane is waiting now.”
“Now? Right away?”
“Actually, we intended to come three days ago, but hearing the farm situation was difficult, we waited. You need not worry about your current appearance either. The plane is equipped with shower facilities and clothes.”
“……”
“If you do not come, Mr. Viktor will be very disappointed.”
“Are we going to Russia?”
“Haha, no. New York.”
“Then just a moment.”
I subtly pulled Christopher aside and whispered so the men couldn’t hear.
“What happens if I don’t go?”
“He is a Russian tycoon, but that doesn’t mean he is mafia. He won’t kill you or anything, Mr. Brian.”
“Ah…”
“But I recommend going. After all, you did promise.”
“…I wasn’t planning to refuse, either.”
Saying that, I spoke to Andrei.
“Let’s go. I just need to say goodbye to people briefly.”
“Please do, Master.”
And so, I found myself boarding Viktor’s private plane bound for New York.