By the time mid-July arrived and full-blown summer was upon us, I was organizing the guest list in my office. With about five months left until the wedding, it was time to start sending out invitations in earnest. Corinne, Michelle Rolland, Victor, Sato, Manager Kim Ihyeon... As I wrote down the names one by one, my fingers kept pausing. Because one person I didn't particularly want to invite had come to mind.
William Harlan.
I felt like I had to invite him... but I also felt like he wouldn't come... Yet not inviting him seemed petty... and on the other hand, if I did invite him, he might actually show up, so I was torn about what to do.
Just then, the office door burst open. There was only one person who entered without knocking.
"Brian!"
It was Armando. He wore his usual hearty expression, but today his face somehow seemed even brighter. I didn't even need to hear him out to know exactly what he was going to say.
"You look happy."
"Hehehe... I came straight to report. Uncle Mark, no—I should call him my father-in-law now. Anyway, that old man..."
Armando sat down and pulled a bottle of wine from his bag. It was Harrington Winery's signature Pinot Noir. Seeing Mark's handwritten signature on the label, it seemed to be a limited edition.
"I got this as thanks. Call it proof of marriage approval, maybe? Kekekeke...."
He looked absolutely overjoyed.
"Uncle Mark must be torn up inside."
I was teasing him, but Armando didn't mind.
"Not at all! Father-in-law practically had his eye on me, you know?"
"I can't believe it."
"You just don't want to believe it, hehehe... He really trusted me. You know how it is..."
Armando went on for quite a while about his meeting with Mark. The fact that he'd been Mark's first-choice son-in-law for over a year now, that he'd even received a business partnership proposal, the detail that Siena had been there and even her mother had attended. Listening to him, I burst out laughing.
"Congratulations. When did you decide to hold it?"
"Siena suggested January since your wedding is in December? We're looking at a schedule that won't conflict with the San Francisco Chronicle."
"The timing isn't bad."
Ordinary people might prefer the warmer spring months, but since we're all farmers, winter—the off-season—is better than spring. There's too much to do in spring, and considering Napa Valley's unpredictable climate, leaving the farm once the new shoots start coming up is inevitably nerve-wracking.
"Right? So we set up a formal meeting for next week. We're going to push the Harrington Cult line together through Michelin channels."
"Ooh, so now you've got the power to get your wine into Michelin-starred restaurants."
"Hehehe... Now the restaurants are subtly trying to stay on our winery's good side, you know? Some restaurant in New York even asked if we couldn't supply this vinegar exclusively to them."
"You know it's all thanks to me, right?"
"I know, I know. That's why I send you reports and dividends like clockwork."
Sitting back and watching money roll in like clockwork really did feel great. The money coming in from here and Jacob's Golden Grain Soju House had now surpassed nearly five million dollars. The dividends themselves were seventy percent from Golden Grain Soju House, so Jacob's side was doing much better. That was because the fruit soju and the Ruby Quartz that Warren had created were still selling steadily.
After exchanging a few more words of congratulations, Armando rose with a light step. He said we'd have to meet again since he needed to sort out the wedding details with Siena.
Immediately after he left the office, my phone rang. I checked who it was, and it was Daniel from Belle Époque.
"Hello?"
"Brian, can you talk for a minute?"
It wasn't Daniel's usual cool voice. There was an urgent undertone to it.
"Yes, what's going on?"
"Something's come up. The press installation has been delayed for a week, and the state of the noble rot fungus culture is a bit off. I think you need to come take a look."
Daniel certainly couldn't be considered an expert when it came to cultivating noble rot. I'd been thinking I should check in on it at some point, so I just figured the time had come.
"And everything else is fine?"
"Ah, and we haven't run the blowers even once yet, so I was thinking we could test them together when the Master arrives?"
About two and a half months until harvest. The noble rot inoculation starts eight weeks before harvest, so that's early August. Which means every system needs to be running perfectly within exactly one month from now. In other words, it was time to check all three core elements: the press, the fungus, and the blowers.
"Tell me the details first."
"The press salesman has been out of contact since last week. When I checked the fungus yesterday, its activity seems to have dropped. And honestly, for the blowers... I haven't been able to run them even once because of the neighboring farm."
"Well, that's... Understood. I'll head out right away."
"Great, thanks. Ah! And Katerina happens to be here too."
"Katerina?"
"Yeah. She arrived yesterday and we're inspecting together, but... the atmosphere is a bit tense."
That made sense. As a guardian holding a twenty percent stake in the estate, it was only natural that she would be thoroughly inspecting Belle Époque's situation.
"I'll finish up here and leave the day after tomorrow at the earliest. I'll check with Warren since I think he should come along too."
"Okay, we'll be ready."
Wedding preparations were in full swing, but I couldn't let personal matters keep me from important business. And I was sure Chloe would understand completely.
Two days later, Napa County Airport.
I boarded the chartered plane with Warren. A direct flight from Napa to Bordeaux. Normally we would have transferred at San Francisco International, but this time we were short on time.
"You keep saying you'll get a private jet, but this is practically perfect already. To think we can now go back and forth on chartered flights."
The Gulfstream G550 we were on was a plane I had rented for urgent use this time. It cost one hundred seventy thousand dollars from here to Bordeaux, but we now had the means to afford it. That was true for me too, but above all, considering Warren's age, no matter how much first class we flew, it was inevitable that the travel would take a toll on his body.
"Exactly. Whether it's next year or the year after, I want to have a private jet with the Redwood Winery logo on it, not just a chartered plane. I wonder if that'll happen."
"It would be nice to have one."
And so began the long flight. Throughout the flight, I ran trial vinification simulations in my head with Warren. The press would be resolved as soon as we tracked down the salesman, and the fungus could be backed up by bringing in a new strain. We would test-run the blowers directly during this visit, so in truth, we weren't heading there with insurmountable difficulties.
The only problem was time. Everything had to be normalized within a month, and that weighed on me a little.
The next morning, after arriving at Bordeaux-Mérignac Airport, we got in a rental car we had prepared in advance and headed for Belle Époque.
Upon arrival, Daniel was there to meet us. Dressed in mud-caked rubber boots as usual. The July Bordeaux sun had tanned his dark face even deeper.
"Good job getting here."
"Have you been well?"
"I have been, but... it's been a bit hectic. Has Mr. Warren been well too?"
"I'm always the same."
Daniel bowed respectfully to Warren, who wore a benevolent smile, and guided us to the chateau.
"The press was ordered from Italy, but some parts were missing, so the salesman is lodging a claim with headquarters, it seems. That's why there'd been no response for a week."
The Belle Époque estate was certainly different from other estates. While the Merlot at other vineyards was ripening into a purplish hue verging on brown, our estate's Sauvignon Blanc remained a vivid light green. True to its nature as a white wine varietal, it was maintaining its acidity late into the season and ripening slowly.
When we arrived at the mansion courtyard, Daniel immediately guided us toward the fermentation room.
"I think we should look at the fermentation room first. Katerina is there."
"All right."
When we opened the door to the fermentation room and entered, a woman was standing with her back to us. Neatly tied auburn hair, a white shirt, beige cotton pants, and sneakers lightly caked with mud. It seemed she had already made a round of the estate.
She slowly turned around.
"Mr. Brian, you're late."
It was Katerina Karlov. It was the first time I'd seen her since the Nobel Banquet incident last year. She looked like she'd lost some weight since then, and her expression was serious.
"How have you been?"
"How have I been? The system's falling apart two months before the trial vinification."
It was a rather blunt greeting.
"Honestly, I'm worried. Natural noble rot is difficult enough, but artificial noble rot? If this fails, Belle Époque's reputation will only get worse. We're already getting criticized in Bordeaux for uprooting Merlot and planting white grapes."
Objectively speaking, her concerns were reasonable. So I nodded silently.
"You know it's only a five-hectare experimental cultivation? Even if it fails, it won't greatly affect the estate's overall reputation. And we're here in person to make sure it doesn't fail."
"...Can you really guarantee it won't fail?"
"I can't guarantee it. That's winemaking. All I can do is work to keep it from failing—that's why we installed the system. If we inspect and normalize things starting now, it's more than possible, so just know that talking about failure before we've even begun doesn't do much to help run the winery."
Katerina stared at me for a while, then let out a short sigh.
"Fine. I'll be watching."
We started by checking the press.
The equipment at Belle Époque was a vertical hydraulic press. The main body had arrived and taken its place on one side of the fermentation room, but the upper hydraulic system and connecting pipe were missing. In other words, it wouldn't work as is.
"The salesman's name?"
"Filippo Moretti. He's a salesman for the company in Modena, Italy."
Daniel answered my question immediately.
"Give me their headquarters number."
Daniel handed me a business card, and I took out my iPad and immediately wrote an email to the head of sales at headquarters. It was a short, one-page email, but the content was firm.
Installation delayed for one week. Affecting our trial vinification schedule. If two technicians are not dispatched by tomorrow, we will terminate the contract, demand a refund, and post a case study on the international winery industry reputation board.
The last line was the key. The winery industry was small; once a reputation soured, other wineries would inevitably hesitate to use that company's equipment. The head of sales couldn't be unaware of that weight.
A reply came just thirty minutes after I sent the email.
-We will send two technicians by 9 a.m. tomorrow. We will also bring the missing parts. We sincerely apologize for the delay in installation.
Daniel frowned beside me.
"Wow, a reply in thirty minutes. Should I have just sent it myself?"
"If you had sent it, they wouldn't have reacted this quickly. They were probably surprised because I sent it personally."
European companies were notoriously slow to move, but it was clear the other company had responded quickly because of my title as CEO of Redwood Winery.
"Let's consider this resolved and move on."
"Let's do that. Next is this way..."
We moved to the fungus cultivation lab.
Daniel opened the incubator door. Botrytis cinerea was growing on the Petri dish, but its color was paler than usual. Anyone could see its activity had dropped.
Warren quietly brought his nose close to the incubator and said,
"...It still seems alive, doesn't it? Was the temperature set incorrectly?"
Daniel scratched his head with an apologetic expression.
"A new employee set it to eight degrees and left. It should have been four. I found it yesterday and set it back, but the activity had already dropped..."
I clicked my tongue. I examined the Petri dish. The mycelium was thinner than usual, and the color was murky.
"To revive this fungus, we need short-term shock treatment. Add fresh grape juice to the nutrient medium, stimulate it at twelve degrees for thirty-six hours, then stabilize it back at four degrees. That should recover about eighty percent of its activity."
"Not one hundred percent?"
"No, fungus that's died once and come back doesn't return to one hundred percent. So I was thinking we should bring in a new strain as backup?"
"A new strain?"
Warren, who had been listening, furrowed his brow.
"If we contact the UC Davis Microbiology Lab, won't it take quite a while to go through quarantine? At least two to three months? It might take even longer, mightn't it?"
"I know. So I think we'll have to look somewhere else..."
I bit my lip and pondered.
"There is somewhere close by... but I wonder if they'll actually part with any..."