The Agricultural Extension Office (UC Davis Cooperative Extension) was located not far from the school athletic field where I had taken the call. Since Pierce knew I attended UC Davis, he could easily tell me to come over. Otherwise, in a country as vast as the United States, it would not be easy to ask a twenty-year-old kid to drive for hours back and forth.
“Hello!”
It was a place I had visited once before, so when I greeted the staff familiarly, agricultural outreach and support coordinator Elisa Chen smiled and pointed inside.
“Yes, Mr. Pierce is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
When I entered Mr. Pierce’s office, he was just taking out some documents, and he smiled when he saw me.
“You came right away.”
“I happened to still be at school.”
“Come sit down.”
I set the bag I had been carrying beside me and sat on the sofa. Mr. Pierce brought over a large map, laid it on the table, and said,
“It’s harvest season now. How’s it going? Are you doing all right?”
“Yes. I think we’ll start harvesting soon.”
“And you’re controlling the water stress well?”
“Of course.”
He nodded, then layered several miscellaneous special-purpose maps on top of the ordinary map. Aerial photographs, soil surveys, slope and aspect analyses, fire hazard grids, and even the smoke dispersion path from this wildfire.
Pierce Morgan hung his jacket over the back of his chair and aimed his pen between the maps.
“All right, Brian. There were originally more, but since you specifically asked to see only land that suffered direct damage from the wildfire, I have three places to show you today. Naturally, the prices are down thirty to forty percent compared to normal. Do you know what that means?”
“It could be a good opportunity. But people don’t prefer it.”
“Why not?”
“Because they won’t be able to generate revenue for at least three to four years.”
At my words, he smiled with satisfaction.
“You know your stuff. Yes, they’re all areas that took the fire head-on. You have to buy and plant seedlings, then wait quite a long time for them to grow well enough to produce commercial income. But if not for that reason, this is land that would never come on the market.”
“That’s exactly why I think I’m the most suitable. Because I’m the person who can make better use of the land than anyone else.”
At that tremendous confidence, Pierce Morgan let out a hollow laugh. In a way, it was uncanny for a kid who was only twenty to show such confidence in farming, where experience was valued above all else.
He pointed to one part of the map with the tip of his pen and said,
“All right. First, at the northern end of Napa, fourteen acres on the south-facing slope of the Calistoga AVA. The slope is five to twelve degrees, and the soil is a seven-to-three ratio of Bale loam and gravelly loam. There’s a lot of gravel, so drainage is fast. It doesn’t turn into a mud pit after rain. And as for the plantings... no need to tell you, right?”
“Yes. I’ll have to replant it anyway.”
Throughout his explanation, Pierce kept glancing at me as though studying an opponent in a game of Go, watching my reaction. He seemed curious whether I understood what the information I had just heard meant. But I deliberately did not comment on that.
He moved the pen pointing at the map slightly downward and said,
“Next is the Bale AVA. Twenty acres. Slope is five to eight degrees. More than eighty percent of the soil is Bale loam. You were looking for something under twenty acres, and this fits perfectly. It was one of the places that suffered the worst damage in this fire. That’s why it’s listed the cheapest.”
I did not even ask the price.
“What about the other place?”
Seeing my attitude, as if I had no interest in that land whatsoever, Pierce asked,
“Why? The price is low, and the land is large.”
“I’d like to know about the other place first.”
To be honest, what I liked least was the land itself. The Bale mentioned here was a proper noun taken from the name of the local Bale area, and it was quite good soil—deep, uniform, and partly mixed with clay. However, it was the kind of all-around loam that was good not only for Cabernet Sauvignon, but also for other varieties like Merlot and Chardonnay.
If you compared it to a soccer player, it would be an all-rounder with no weaknesses. But what I was looking for was soil optimized for Cabernet Sauvignon, so it was out.
“...Fine. Lastly, it’s not far from your farm. Eighteen acres in the north block of the Silveroak AVA. Slope is six to fifteen degrees. The ratio of Bale to gravelly loam is about four to six. This one isn’t up for auction; it’s listed at a set price.”
“How much is it?”
When I showed interest for the first time and asked the price, Pierce’s eyes lit up.
“1.3 million dollars.”
“That’s expensive.”
“It’s thirty percent cheaper than usual.”
“The land burned down completely. It won’t produce income for more than three years, and if it’s Cabernet Sauvignon, I’d need to add another two to three years on top of that.”
“You shouldn’t be trying to persuade me. You need to persuade the landowner.”
The landowner was probably Elowen, and if I tried to persuade her, she might refuse to sell at all. So I had to persuade Pierce further.
“Since it’s an urgent sale, it might start below seventy percent of the usual market price, but there are already two foreclosed parcels under twenty acres up for auction because of the major wildfire. Add Silveroak, and that makes three in total. Then bidders have more options, so the price should drop further. More than anything, whoever bids has to shoulder the risks from the fire damage and set aside a tremendous amount of additional restoration costs.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that tremendous. A considerable portion is covered under wildfire damage restoration items.”
I tried whining once, but as expected, Pierce did not let himself be swayed so easily.
“They don’t compensate you one hundred percent, do they? In any case, anyone taking on these risk factors will have to struggle for more than three years before the land becomes usable. Do you really think there’ll be someone willing to buy it at seventy percent?”
“So what price do you want?”
“One million dollars.”
“You want to slash it by nearly half?”
I grinned, then put on a pitiful expression.
“Please put in a good word for me. The farm owner will want to sell it quickly and convert it to cash anyway. With everyone still shaken by the wildfire, do you think someone will easily appear to take over that land? As time passes, no one will touch it, and it’ll just keep deteriorating. And it’s not as though the cash-strapped owner of Silveroak Farm can restore it, right?”
If she had that ability, the land would not have gone up for sale. Elowen was probably scrambling to somehow dispose of the smoke-tainted grapes, even at a bargain price, but since that would not be easy, it was clear she intended to sell off the land that generated no money and would require enormous effort to revive in order to get through the crisis.
And as the Agricultural Extension Office, they would also want such good land to be sold quickly to someone and start generating revenue again.
“I’ll talk to them. But what about the funds?”
“Naturally, through a loan... I acquired Redwood Farm before through the SDA program.”
When I grinned, he let out a hollow laugh.
“Well, yes... with a direct loan from the Farm Service Agency, part of the land acquisition can be financed at a low interest rate. Since you’re already registered in the SDA program, you’ll be eligible for preferential review. But even so, you’ll still be short, won’t you?”
“Come on, there’s the Emergency Farm Loan. It’s included in the disaster area declared by the federal government, isn’t it?”
This time, even Pierce’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked at me.
“You know about that too?”
“Of course. I already looked into it. As long as I can prove total debt repayment capacity, the two can be packaged together at the same time. And I think the revenue I earned from vinegar in less than a year will be more than enough. The winery also has cherry wine ready, so I can explain it sufficiently.”
“That’s unbelievable... Fine. I’ll try talking to them.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me too much. The deal only happens if the landowner agrees. There will probably need to be some adjustment from one million dollars.”
“I can accept that to some extent.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Why did you choose Silveroak? Because it’s close?”
I hesitated briefly, then answered only enough for him to understand.
“I read in a book that gravelly loam is good for Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“As expected... You know that too.”
If I told him I intended to completely tear up the land there and newly construct the optimal terroir—not only the soil where the grapes grow, but the entire natural environment of a specific region—he would look at me as if I were insane.
Even within Napa Valley, the reason Cabernet Sauvignon of the same variety could differ in price by several times was because of the terroir, and my intention was to construct entirely new land on the ground burned by the wildfire.
On my way home, I wracked my brains over how to persuade Dad. I thought that although he might be a little surprised, he would certainly give me permission.
---
Silveroak Farm.
“What? One million dollars?”
Elowen clenched her teeth. It was land she had worked so hard to cultivate, and the thought of selling it off for nearly half its value was so bitter it went beyond stinging and became painful. But if she tried to hold out, thinking about the money she had to pay out using this year’s revenue made her vision go dark.
Every year, the money spent on hiring workers, and at the very least her daughter’s tuition, along with the principal and interest on the real estate loan—her expenses were substantial. The financial plan for all of that was supposed to be covered by the money earned from farming each year, but last year had been ruined by going organic, and this year had been ruined by the wildfire.
The blow was beyond description.
“I can’t sell it that cheaply.”
But the real estate agent’s voice coming from the other end of the receiver was calm and languid.
“Yes. I’m merely conveying the buyer’s opinion, which was passed along through the Department of Agriculture. You may wait until a buyer offering a higher price appears. However, for your reference, please know that there are almost no people interested in the farm at the moment.”
At that unenthusiastic tone, as if all choices were up to her, Elowen instead became anxious. Unlike ordinary land, land in an AVA required a business plan that included passion and experience for grape farming in order to be purchased, so waiting leisurely as one might with a house did not guarantee that a buyer would appear.
“How long do I have to give you an answer?”
“The sooner, the better. If the buyer becomes interested in other land...”
“Give me time. Ten days... Please wait just ten days.”
“Understood. I’ll relay that.”
After hanging up, Elowen bit her lip. If the smoke-tainted Cabernet Sauvignon could be cleared out even at a bargain price within ten days, she could hold out a little longer. The best option would be for it to become material for distilled spirits, where smoke exposure did not matter much, but even that was not easy. After all, it was not as if there were only one or two tons of smoke-tainted grapes in Sonoma and Napa.
This was why, realistically, simply discarding them and filing for compensation was the best choice.
“Damn it...”
Elowen thought she might have to make a decision. Because one million dollars was by no means a small amount of money.
---
In early October, as the weather grew noticeably chilly, I climbed the hill from dawn as always, picked a grape, and put it in my mouth. The sugar content had risen enough that the sweetness of the juice was clear in my mouth, while a refreshing acidity lingered, and I could feel that the fruit was abundant with juice.
I spat the seeds into my hand to check them. They were brown and hard, and when I bit into one, it had a fairly nutty feel. I gave a faint smile, then shouted to Dad, who was standing behind me.
“Dad, it’s tomorrow!”
“Yeah? Then starting now?”
“Yes. For one day.”
Just one day. Dad and I decided to set the SWP to minus fourteen, close to water restriction. The time for harvest was approaching. And as if it had been waiting, a message arrived.
- The owner of Silveroak Farm has contacted us saying she will proceed with the deal at 1.1 million dollars.
I smiled, replied that I understood, then took a firm, well-ripened, dark-red bunch of grapes in my hand and murmured,
“Let’s hold on for one day. Just one day.”