Jim Ferguson, who had gone outside, opened the barn door and came in. Thomas, Ray, and Carl tensed at once and said nothing. Silence settled over the barn as Jim returned to his seat, but he calmly picked up the can of beer on the table and took a sip.
Ray, his face stiff, was the first to ask.
“What was the call about?”
“Just checking in, asking how I’ve been doing lately.”
A brief silence passed, then Jim gave a faint laugh and continued.
“He’s not the type to call just to ask how I’m doing. So I whined a little and told him things have been hard lately because our allocated volume’s been cut.”
At that, the rigid expressions on everyone’s faces eased. They were certain now that he had not gone over to William Hartford, the cooperative president.
“And what did he say?”
“What do you think? He said this year would be tough, but next year the allocation would increase, so I should hang in there even if it’s hard. Isn’t that funny? Does he think I don’t know he’ll change his tune again once next year comes?”
Thomas, wearing a faint smile, spoke quietly.
“We don’t have time anymore. If we’re going to decide, we have to move quickly.”
Everyone knew how serious the situation was, and they nodded at Thomas’s words. The cooperative was beginning to crack in earnest.
The next morning, I got a call from Chloe.
I was reviewing documents in the Redwood Winery office when I answered the phone.
“Brian, Thomas contacted me. He said he met three more people last night. Jim, Ray, and Carl—members of the Cherry Growers Cooperative. One of them, Ray, is closer to my dad and owns as much as 280 acres... Anyway, they want to form a new cooperative centered around me.”
“Did they all agree to do it together?”
“Yes. Including Dexter, that makes five. Six if you count my farm.”
I calculated for a moment. Six out of fifteen cooperative members. It was short of half.
“It’s a little lacking... but let’s give it a try.”
“Then should I start gathering people and get moving in earnest?”
“Leave it to me for now. Give me a few days.”
“Okay. I’ll wait.”
After hanging up, I closed the documents. In truth, I had already begun preparing a few days ago—since the night I heard that Thomas and Dexter had gone to Chloe’s house.
Two things had to be handled at the same time.
The first was Harry Montis.
The Rainmaker—the attorney in Napa Valley whose nickname everyone knew. He was the man who, when Harris Farm had fought the cooperative before, overturned the blocking of the watergate as a public health violation and even got an emergency well-drilling permit approved in just a week.
I called him and explained everything that had happened from the beginning. That Thomas and Dexter had visited Harris Farm, that Hartford had pressured them with the allocation chart, and that six cooperative members were considering withdrawal.
Harry listened without interrupting. When I finished, he spoke.
“Brian, there are two things you’re worried about right now, correct? Whether withdrawal can be legally blocked, and whether the water channels can be cut off the moment they leave.”
“That’s right.”
“You don’t need to worry about the first. There’s a federal law enacted in 1922 called the Capper-Volstead Act, and it fully protects the rights of agricultural producers to form and withdraw from cooperatives as an exception to antitrust law. Even if the cooperative bylaws include a clause restricting withdrawal, federal law takes precedence. No matter how many lawyers William Hartford brings in as cooperative president, he can’t stop the withdrawal itself.”
“What about the second?”
“That’s a little more complicated. Blocking former members from using the communal water channels falls within the cooperative’s authority, so it’s tricky to prevent. However...”
Harry paused briefly, then continued in a low voice.
“There’s a method we used back with Harris Farm. You remember, don’t you?”
“The wells?”
“That’s right. I’ll explain the details later, so could you first identify which farms depend on the water channels? It won’t apply to all of them.”
He was, without a doubt, someone I could trust. He always spoke with clear grounds and confidence, so it was impossible not to have faith in him.
“Understood. I’ll check and contact you.”
“Oh, and Mr. Brian.”
“Yes?”
“This time, I’ll move first. I’ll need to prepare a notarized confirmation outlining the procedural requirements for withdrawal based on the Capper-Volstead Act. We have to get ahead of Hartford before he brings in his lawyers.”
“Good.”
Only after ending the call did I let out a breath. If Harry hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have known where to begin.
After hanging up, I moved on to the second preparation.
The second was futures contracts.
Through Redwood Holdings Asia, I contacted Zen-Noh and Itochu. The plan was to organize the expected harvest from the five new member farms by variety and sign advance allocation contracts. I contacted Bristol Park, a premium distributor in the U.S., in the same manner.
The essence of a futures contract is securing the buyer before the harvest takes place. The moment the contract is signed, that volume is as good as sold. No matter how William Hartford adjusts the allocation chart, he cannot touch volume that does not pass through the cooperative.
First, I called Sato Takeshi of the Zen-Noh Group.
“Manager, I apologize for contacting you so urgently. Would you be interested in taking on additional Brentwood cherry volume?”
Sato Takeshi, who knew that I was the boyfriend of the Queen of Brentwood Cherries and, in effect, her business partner, did not ask why I was asking such a thing.
“How much?”
“Five farms’ worth. They’re all Bing cherries, and we’ll be using hydro-cooling equipment and a MAP packaging system.”
“They’re Bing cherries, but they’ll go through both processes? Hmm... Does that mean you’re asking for a slightly higher unit price than ordinary Bing cherries?”
“Of course. You’ll need to pay $1.80 per pound.”
“That’s a bit...”
“If it’s not possible, please don’t feel pressured and just say so.”
I spoke as if it were no problem at all, but Sato Takeshi could not easily refuse. Because he knew. With a single word from me, the export allocation for next year’s Royal Tioga and Coral Champagne could drop sharply.
If I had many other alternatives, I would have cut him off and ended the call right away, but unfortunately, there were still hardly any farms that had completed their variety conversions following Harris Farm. Even if they planted saplings or grafted branches now, it would take at least three years, so from his perspective, he could not flatly refuse.
“...Would $1.60 be...?”
“I’m sorry, but it has to be $1.80. Even if they’re Bing cherries, you’re not going to sell cherries this fresh in Japan as cheap goods, are you?”
“Understood. If it won’t work, I have no intention of forcing—”
Before I could finish,
“No. Let’s do it. We’ll contract at $1.80. Roughly how much volume are we talking about?”
“Approximately 1,800 tons.”
At the larger-than-expected figure, I heard him suck in a breath over the phone. Excluding Chloe’s 400 acres, I knew the total area of the five farms came to 800 acres.
“That much?”
“Yes. Is it difficult?”
“No. Hahaha! It’s good for us. It’s not as though we absolutely have to use only high-end Royal Tioga for the upcoming Ochugen (Chūgen, summer gifts).”
The reason Sato Takeshi was pleased was obvious. From a distributor’s perspective, securing 1,800 tons of cherries of uniform quality from a single 800-acre source like this was overwhelmingly advantageous in terms of logistics costs and quality control compared to gathering volume from hundreds of small farms.
Especially, as Sato said, California cherries are a key product for Ochugen in June. Japan imports more than 10,000 tons of cherries annually, so if they could import 1,800 tons through a single channel, there could hardly be better terms.
“If you had told me the volume from the start, I wouldn’t have bothered haggling over the price. At $1.80, it’s a price we can fully handle. I’ll start arranging the charter flight schedule right away. Ah, but by any chance...?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not making Itochu a similar offer, are you?”
He had likely asked because, after already being offered 1,800 tons, he wondered whether there could possibly be even more cherries. But with a smile on my lips, I answered as if it were nothing.
“No. I was planning to offer Itochu about 1,800 tons as well.”
For a moment, I could almost see Sato Takeshi’s shocked expression.
“What...! You still have that much volume left? How is that possible...? Ah! You said earlier that it was the volume from five farms, didn’t you? Don’t tell me that was the total volume from all five farms?”
“It’s difficult to explain the details, but as time passes, you’ll come to know naturally.”
“In that case, Mr. Brian! How about this?”
“Yes?”
“If you give us that 1,800 tons as well, I’ll match it at $2.00 per pound. How does that sound?”
As expected, I had thought he would come out like this. After all, he would much prefer eating a little less alone to dividing it up and eating a moderate share with someone else.
But I did not agree easily.
“Hmm... I’m not sure. I’m only handling the volume in the middle, so I don’t know if it’s necessarily good to do it that way...”
Sato Takeshi, understanding what I meant, hurriedly continued.
“Please wait... Please wait just a moment. I’ll contact you right away.”
Sato Takeshi hung up like that, then called back an hour later. And, perhaps having received permission from above, he made me an exceptional offer.
“Then let’s do this. How would it be if we paid $0.20 per pound as a commission? To Redwood Holdings, that is.”
“That does sound rather good.”
“Hahaha! Doesn’t it? If you sign contracts with two companies, isn’t that an administrative waste and a hassle in the distribution process? Let’s settle it cleanly through just one place.”
I went along with it, as if reluctantly giving in.
“Then shall we do that?”
“Hahaha! Understood. Then I’ll draw up the contract and head straight to Brentwood.”
And just like that, I finalized the forward cherry contract for large-scale farms amounting to roughly 800 acres. I had perfectly secured the five farms’ line of retreat.
The third was the most important.
I remembered the method Hartford had once used against Harris Farm. Blocking the water channels. Farms that used the communal irrigation facilities managed by the cooperative could have their water supply cut off the moment they withdrew.
I checked the irrigation status of the five cooperative members’ farms one by one. Among them, three were using the communal water channels of the Brentwood Cherry Growers Cooperative. They were the farms of Jim Ferguson, Ray Coburn, and Carl Meyer.
After finishing my survey, I called Harry again.
“Harry, there are three farms that depend on the water channels. Jim Ferguson, Ray Coburn, and Carl Meyer’s farms.”
“Mm, I see. Understood. I’ll check the water rights status of those three farms. I’ll also check whether they have original documents for riparian water rights to groundwater and adjacent water sources within the boundaries of each farm. Using the same method we used for Harris Farm.”
“Please do.”
“Understood. But drilling wells will take time.”
“There’s one month until harvest. Please move quickly.”
Harry thought for a moment, then said,
“If we file an emergency survival-right drilling application with the county, the permit could come through within a week. But this time, the water channels haven’t been blocked yet, so we lack grounds.”
“I’ll create the grounds.”
“How?”
“We officially notify them of the intent to withdraw first. From that moment on, there’s a reasonable possibility that Hartford will block the water channels. We use that as the basis to file a preemptive well-drilling application. It shouldn’t be completely without precedent.”
Silence passed briefly. Harry let out a low laugh.
“That’s an ingenious method. It certainly isn’t without precedent. It depends on how the judge views it, but I know a judge well enough that we can try.”
In this way, the two preparations proceeded simultaneously. This was the best support I could provide. From here on, it depended on Chloe.
No, on top of that, it would also depend on how William Hartford, the cooperative president, responded. But would he truly be able to respond?