The morning after the proposal, Harrington Estate.
Siena shot up from bed, quickly changed her clothes, and rushed down to the first floor. Normally, she wouldn’t get up until past seven, so her going downstairs at six-thirty clearly had a reason. She had to catch her father before he left for work.
When she entered the dining room, Mark was already drinking coffee at the table. A well-ironed shirt and dark dress pants. The watch on his wrist was the IWC he usually favored. Fiddling with his car keys while looking at his phone, he looked every bit the businessman about to head to work.
“Dad.”
“Huh? You’re up early?”
Mark lifted his gaze from his phone and looked at Siena. She took a breath and answered.
“Dad, just five minutes. I have something to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
Knowing that his daughter had been pouring herself into winery work as if she were practically the associate head winemaker these days, Mark looked at her seriously.
But the words that fell from his daughter’s lips were far beyond anything he had expected.
“...I’m getting married.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose slightly as he asked carefully,
“To Armando?”
“Yes. He proposed yesterday.”
Mark looked at his daughter’s left hand, saw a plain gold ring, and asked,
“With that ring?”
His tone clearly asked if it wasn’t too cheap, and Siena hastily explained.
“He didn’t know my size, so he bought this one for now. We’re going to get it properly sized.”
“Hmm...”
Seeing her father nod as if he understood, Siena let out a small sigh of relief.
Mark set down his coffee cup and looked at her again. His expression was serious but not negative. However, Siena couldn’t quite tell whether it was goodwill or a withholding of judgment.
“So you’re going to do it?”
“Yes.”
Seeing his daughter answer firmly, he glanced at his wristwatch and rose from his seat.
“Let’s meet that friend this evening.”
“...Today?”
“Yes. Let’s invite him over to our house for dinner.”
“Dad, you won’t make it too hard on him, right?”
Mark lightly patted the shoulder of Siena, who was nervous for no reason.
“Hey, would I make things unnecessarily difficult? Until now he’s been your boyfriend, so I let it slide, but now that you’re saying you want to marry him, shouldn’t I at least hear him out seriously?”
“How about around six?”
“...That should be fine.”
“Good. Then let’s do that.”
Then he lightly patted her shoulder once more and left the dining room. That brief contact was meaningful, but Siena didn’t notice. Her head was too much of a mess to spare any thought for other things.
The sound of a car starting came from the garage. Siena remained seated at the table. She didn’t even think to pour herself a cup of coffee.
*Haah, I hope it goes well...*
She was filled with worry.
At the same time, Mark sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and grinned.
“That kid’s got some manly guts.”
He recalled the day Siena first brought Armando home.
At first, he had thought Armando was just one of many ordinary young men. A young Mexican-American winemaker mixed among the wealthy young masters of prestigious families who always circled around Siena. Honestly, he had guessed that Siena was seeing him out of a fleeting sense of sympathy.
But when the heat wave of 2008 struck, he had begun to take notice of how this young man bought the completely overripe grapes from Harrington Farm at a dirt-cheap price. Using them, he elevated the already-famous Redwood Reserve Vinegar to another level, and Mark had been astonished to learn that he supplied it to Michelin-starred restaurants at a premium price.
From a business standpoint, it was an admirable technique. Moreover, the fact that he had captured the heart of Siena—who was quite fastidious even in her own father’s eyes—clearly meant that, contrary to appearances(?), he had quite a clever side.
After that, Mark had quietly tracked Laguna Creek’s movements. It was the instinct of a businessman.
Annual sales, profit margins, trading partners, comparisons with Katz Farm. What began as curiosity gradually turned into a serious evaluation. By last year, the conclusion was already reached.
*This kid is the real deal.*
A business built with his own two hands, the pride of never once holding out his hand to Siena, a businessman’s mind that generated ten-million-dollar revenue from “heat wave grapes”—raw materials others had discarded. And above all, the way he truly loved Siena.
These were things none of those wealthy young masters circling Siena possessed.
However, there was one thing that weighed on his mind: the fact that Armando was a Mexican immigrant. It was an aspect not free from societal prejudice. Just because Mark personally approved didn’t mean everything was resolved.
But that was also something Mark could fix. After all, a businessman’s marriage was also a business alliance. If the Harringtons officially accepted him, societal perception would naturally follow.
“Should I take out a gun...”
He smiled mischievously and started the car. After all, it was true that Armando was annoying for trying to take away his lovely daughter.
At the same time, at the Laguna Creek Vinegar Winery office.
Armando was working as usual. To be exact, he was pretending to work. The joy he had felt after Siena’s acceptance yesterday had vanished because of the message from her this morning, and he couldn’t focus on his work.
How would Mark treat him... He was worried, but it would be a lie to say he had no expectations.
He had built something all this time, so wouldn’t Mark recognize that? He had that thought.
*What kind of atmosphere will it be? Favorable, hostile, or trying to test me...?*
A businessman in his mid-fifties, the owner of a large winery ranked within the top three in Sonoma. The father of an only daughter he cherished dearly. A meeting where such a man faced his future son-in-law could hardly be easy.
Armando spent the day lost in such thoughts before leaving Laguna Creek without being late.
In the passenger seat, neatly packaged, was the Redwood Reserve Vinegar — Grand Reserve, the highest-priced product sold at Laguna Creek.
Five hundred dollars for a 500ml bottle. It was precisely the product that had caused a sensation upon release, centered on Michelin-starred restaurants and Beverly Hills tycoons, and it was the product he was most proud of at his winery.
“I can do this.”
The wood-packaged vinegar sitting beside him was soothing his anxious heart, if only a little.
Six in the evening, Harrington Estate.
In Healdsburg, Sonoma County, the main house came into view from afar, its white exterior exuding overwhelming grandeur. As Armando slowly drove down the entranceway, the giant oak trees lined up on both sides of the driveway somehow felt more oppressive than usual today.
After parking and entering, he found Mark already seated at the end of the dining table, a glass of wine in hand. Unexpectedly, he was dressed in a casual shirt rather than a suit. That was even more intimidating. It gave the impression of a man who didn’t need to dress up.
“Welcome, Armando.”
Mark rose from his seat and extended his hand. Armando shook it politely.
“Hello. Thank you for having me.”
Seated beside Mark was Siena’s mother, Nora. An elegant woman in her early fifties, she possessed exactly the refined atmosphere that Siena was said to take after.
“Of course we had to invite you. I heard you’re marrying our child. Sit down.”
Nora offered him a seat, and Armando sat with an awkward smile.
There was gentleness in her smile. It was a different quality from Mark’s heavy gaze, and just as Armando’s tension began to ease, Siena entered from inside the dining room.
“...Armando, you’re here?”
Unlike usual, Siena wore a neat dress and had clearly put more effort into her makeup. But her expression was plainly nervous. Her usual calm smile was nowhere to be found, replaced by an awkward, stiff smile.
“Yeah...”
She sat down beside Mark and secretly nudged Armando’s foot under the table. It was a signal of encouragement. Armando looked at her and gave her a brief smile.
As he sat, Armando carefully took out a bottle of vinegar from the leather bag he had brought. He placed it on the table and gently slid it toward Mark.
“This... I brought it for you, sir. It’s our winery’s highest grade.”
Mark took the bottle and examined the label. Then he smiled slightly.
“Thank you. But I already had one.”
“Oh? You did?”
“I suppose this girl didn’t tell you, but she badgered Mom into buying it the moment it was released. Of course, the balsamic quality is good, so we don’t regret it. If there’s another bottle, Nora will be happy.”
Just as he said, Nora’s mouth opened wide in delight when she saw the Grand Reserve bottle.
“Thank you so much!”
“It’s nothing. I can give you as much of this as you’d like.”
Soon, dinner began. Today’s menu was a course meal Nora had personally discussed with the chef. The appetizer was light oysters, the main was lamb steak, and as a side, white asparagus that Siena loved was served.
The conversation flowed surprisingly smoothly. Nora naturally asked about Armando’s family—his parents living in Santa Rosa, his mother crossing over from Mexico with young Armando, and how she later met his stepfather and built a new family. As the stories continued, Armando’s shoulders, which had been tense, gradually relaxed.
Siena seemed to gradually relax as well, naturally joining in. The atmosphere at the table was warming.
When the meal had progressed to a certain point, around the time the main dish plates were being emptied, Mark slowly set down his wine glass and straightened his posture slightly.
“Armando.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever thought about getting our winery’s wine into Michelin alongside yours?”
“ ...Pardon?”
Stunned by the completely unexpected question, Armando went blank. He had expected to hear about marriage approval, but a business proposal out of nowhere? Siena also looked at Mark with a dumbfounded expression. Even Nora looked slightly surprised.
“Dear, are you bringing that up now?”
“Why? It’s the perfect occasion.”
Mark shrugged and replied, then looked at Armando again.
“Harrington has large sales volume, but no cult wine, as you know. We do well in Pinot Noir, but to climb one step higher, the Michelin channel is essential.”
“Ah... yes.”
“It’s not that we haven’t tried. Meeting chefs, hosting wine pairing events. But it hasn’t worked out. Michelin-level chefs tend to see a winery of our scale as somewhat mainstream. They feel wine from too large a winery lacks the scarcity to suit their courses.”
Mark made a bitter expression, took a sip of wine, and continued.
“But you already have direct deals with eighteen Michelin restaurants. And you have solid trust with the chefs.”
Only then did Armando slowly begin to grasp Mark’s intention. His mind quickly turned.
“...Sir, then you’re asking me to recommend Harrington wines as a package with our balsamic to the chefs.”
“Exactly.”
Mark snapped his fingers in approval and nodded in satisfaction.
“We’re creating a new limited-edition line. Made from only the best blocks in our winery, a cult-level line with only three thousand bottles released per year. We’ll have it naturally paired on courses where your vinegar is used. From the chef’s perspective, if a story emerges of ‘a wine that suits this vinegar,’ wouldn’t their course composition become much richer?”
“Ah... I suppose that would be the case.”
“You just need to naturally recommend it to the chefs. We’ll handle everything else. It’ll help your balsamic sales too. If you get positioned as the balsamic that goes with cult wine, your entire line’s price point can rise another notch.”
It was such a sudden proposal that his mind couldn’t quite process it at first. But the more he thought about it, the more incredibly attractive the deal became. A win-win picture for both sides. It was a proposal befitting a businessman, matching Mark’s evaluation of him all this time.
Of course, even if he hadn’t liked it, Armando would have had a hard time refusing. Today was the day he came to receive approval to marry Siena. At least he felt relieved to confirm that it was a benefit to himself.
“...Sir, it’s a wonderful proposal. Thank you sincerely.”
“Good. Then let’s set up a formal meeting through my secretary next week. We’ll have our winemaker join as well.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
At that moment, Siena cleared her throat from beside him.
“...Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Aren’t you going to talk about the marriage?”
Mark laughed as if only just realizing.
“Oh, that?”
At those overly light words, Siena’s brow furrowed slightly. Nora also looked at Mark with an absurd expression. Even Armando stared at Mark in bewilderment.
“You two can handle that yourselves. Pick a good date and prepare the wedding with your mother. What more would I add?”
A brief silence fell over the table. Only then did the people at this table realize that Mark’s approval of the marriage had been decided from the very beginning.
Siena laughed in exasperation, Armando rubbed his chest in relief, and Mark—pleased to have gotten what he wanted—winked at Nora, who was glaring at him, and kept the atmosphere warm.