The large SUV traveling down Highway 101 from Healdsburg turned off onto Highway 12 toward Napa Valley. Mark Harrington, who was driving, kept one hand on the wheel and looked ahead as he spoke quietly.
“Sienna. Do you know why I’m going to the tasting today?”
“Because you’re curious?”
“Half right, half wrong.”
Sienna, sitting in the passenger seat, turned her head toward her father.
“If half of it is because you’re curious, what’s the other half?”
“To succeed in business, half of it is knowing what you’re good at, and the other half is figuring out what your competitors are good at. If you leave that out, you’ll never make it to the end.”
“Don’t tell me you already think of Redwood Winery as a competitor. Didn’t Mr. Pearson say Redwood was fifteen acres? That’s not even a tenth of our farm.”
In terms of scale, it was less than a twentieth, not a tenth. Hearing him call such a place a competitor felt a little excessive even to Sienna, who already thought Brian was no ordinary person.
But Mark gave a faint laugh and said,
“Sienna, when you do business, you can’t overlook even the smallest detail. Especially in a field like ours. We’re not manufacturing or electronics, where size alone wins. We’re wine, and we have to win with our brand. Even a small winery can create value that threatens us, depending on what it makes.”
“Mm... I understand.”
Sienna folded her arms and nodded.
“Small wineries are agile. Because they’re small, they can build more creative and more luxurious brands. That’s why you mustn’t underestimate them. This story about Redwood’s cherry wine... To be honest, I’m a little puzzled, and curious. From what Pierce says, he isn’t a foolish young man, so it makes me wonder, ‘Why cherry wine, of all things?’ If it’s similar to any other cherry wine already out there, then it doesn’t matter. But if something about it is different, we need to watch it carefully.”
“And what changes if we watch carefully?”
“Haha, sometimes I wonder who you got that cynical streak from. Your mother isn’t like that.”
“Someone above you must have been.”
“Well, it would be good if you developed it into a business mindset, but that sort of cynicism isn’t constructive.”
“I understand. I’ll try to fix it.”
“Good. That’s the right attitude. To answer your question first, a large place like ours has a lot of capital. And smaller but powerful places may have plenty of potential, but they don’t have much money. The driving force behind our farm’s steady growth for nearly a hundred years has been valuing land above all else and continuously absorbing wineries with excellent techniques. You know that too, don’t you? There’s no place in Sonoma that puts out a wider variety of wine than we do.”
“I know.”
That fact made Sienna’s shoulders lift with pride. In truth, that was exactly the point she felt most proud of.
“That goes for your grandfather and your grandfather before him. Of course, your grandfathers were skilled, but whenever they discovered good techniques, they brought them into the family somehow, even if it meant paying a great deal of money. Doing that has two advantages. One is that the family’s technical strength rises, and the other is that the number of competitors decreases.”
“Then if Redwood Winery’s techniques are good, you’re thinking of acquiring them too? That’s... not fair competition, is it?”
Seeing his daughter’s slightly stiff expression, Mark reached over with his other hand and stroked her hair.
“Sienna, there’s nothing in this world that’s perfectly fair. Just as the fact that you were born as my daughter isn’t fair compared to children born into poor families.”
“That’s true, but...”
“And you need to understand this. At first glance, it may look like we’re the bad ones for trying to buy their techniques with a large sum of money, but if you get closer and look carefully, you’ll find that the side being offered money is actually happier. Small farms struggle with loans, living expenses, and labor costs. And they dream of a jackpot that might come someday. We give them the jackpot they want so badly. Of course, it’s a little less than that jackpot, but they’re fully satisfied with the large amount of money placed in their hands right now.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t thought it through.”
“Yes, you’re smart enough that you don’t make your father worry.”
But Sienna turned to look out the window with a deliberately sulky expression.
“Hmph, even though you only like my brother.”
“What are you talking about? I love your brother and you equally. It’s just that your brother is much older, so he does more work. Things will change once you graduate.”
“Really?”
“I mean it.”
Only then did Sienna’s face brighten a little.
---
The entrance to Redwood Farm.
The small gravel parking lot was already packed with black SUVs and silver sedans. There were far more cars than expected.
“This way, please. The tasting begins in twenty minutes, so you’re welcome to look around the farm.”
Quick-witted and amiable, Armando stood at the farm entrance, guiding restaurant owners, sommeliers, and the like.
“How many glasses will we need? If I’d known it would be like this, should we have prepared more?”
“We bought plenty. If you go inside over there, there are unopened boxes of glasses.”
“Oh, right. Got it. I should let your mother know.”
Seeing the buyers arrive in such numbers, Dad hurried to prepare for the guests with an excited look on his face.
“More came than I expected.”
I had contacted all sorts of places, but most of the restaurants I reached had mainly answered, “We’ll think about it.” Usually, “We’ll think about it” meant refusal, so I hadn’t expected much. For some reason, however, more places than anticipated had shown up.
Outside the winery facility, the temporary tables we had prepared several days ago were neatly arranged on both sides. They were covered with white linen, and in the center, small glass vases were decorated with wild roses and olive leaves.
“Good day. I’m Woody Choi, the owner of Redwood Farm.”
Naturally, the one formally receiving the guests was Dad.
“I’m Theodore Goodwin of Blaise Bistro. I drove two hours after hearing it was top-quality cherry wine unlike anything we’ve tasted before. I’m looking forward to it.”
Regardless of the result, the visit from Blaise, a Michelin one-star seafood restaurant in San Francisco, was meaningful enough simply for making Redwood Winery known.
I thought that if it had been another wine, it might not have drawn this much attention. It was clear that the curiosity of a cherry wine unlike existing ones had brought him all the way here.
“I’m sure the two-hour drive won’t feel wasted.”
After that, the owner of La Fiorentina, known in downtown Napa for Italian fine dining and especially well-regarded pairing menus, and the owner of a natural wine bar popular among the younger generation in Sonoma County called The Wine Gallery Bar also joined.
In addition, restaurant representatives whose names alone were recognizable—Le Jardin, specializing in French cuisine; the high-end steakhouse chain Highland Grill; and Vineyard Table, which operated wine tour courses in Santa Rosa—shook hands with Dad one by one and took their seats.
And then...
“Nice to meet you. I hear my child and this family’s child go to the same school. I’m Mark Harrington of Harrington Winery.”
The handsome white man was a head taller than Dad.
“I’m Woody Choi. Every restaurant you introduced, Mr. Mark, has arrived. I don’t know how to properly thank you.”
But Mark looked over the lively scene in front of the winery and gave a subtle smile.
“No need to thank me this much. It seems you asked many places besides me as well?”
This time, I answered from beside Dad.
“I reached out separately. I wanted to speak with as many potential clients as possible at this tasting.”
“Yes, you were the one who gave advice to my child, weren’t you? It was very impressive. Thanks to that, Sienna learned what she was lacking about winemaking. Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. Please go on in.”
When I gestured inside, he gave an unreadable smile and walked with Sienna toward the tables set up inside.
There were more guests.
“Brian! This is amazing. This many people came to the tasting?”
Chloe came up with a bright smile, wearing a radiant white dress, and behind her, the massive Frederick followed.
“Hello.”
“To think this many people gathered for a tasting. This is going to be quite nerve-racking. I’m really looking forward to today.”
“Thank you for coming again.”
Dad and Frederick embraced and began talking about something. Then Chloe lightly jabbed me in the side and said,
“You’re not even going to answer me?”
“In the East, it’s proper manners to greet your elders first. You mannerless Westerner.”
“Hmph, they say when in Rome, do as the Romans do.”
“Well said. At Redwood Winery, you should follow Redwood Winery’s rules. Welcome.”
Chloe made a strange expression, as if she knew she couldn’t beat me in words, and followed behind me. Since Frederick and Chloe, the owners of the cherries, had prearranged seats, they sat in the reserved seats at the very front.
Since the tasting had not yet begun, people looked around the inside of the winery. One side lined with stainless-steel fermentation tanks, oak barrels arranged in a semicircle, and even the winery walls newly cleaned for today. Though the facilities were simple, to those interested in wine, each and every thing drew attention.
A few chefs took out notebooks and wrote something down, while people who appeared to be shop owners or managers conversed in low voices.
“Then, since it’s time...”
When Dad brought wine from the oak barrel into a large stainless-steel decanter, everyone’s eyes focused on it at once.
“Thank you once again for coming all this way. This is Redwood Winery.”
Clap, clap, clap!
Applause broke out, and Dad bowed his head with a bright smile. Then he raised his head again, pointed to the stainless-steel decanter, and said,
“What we will be serving you today is a slightly special wine. It is the first cherry wine we have made. Usually, when people think of wine, they think only of grapes. But Brentwood cherries have an excellent balance of sweetness and acidity, and when their juice is concentrated through fermentation, they show an aroma and flavor no less than grapes... no, in some ways, even more original.”
Dad lifted the red liquid poured into a clear glass. Its ruby color sparkled in the sunlight.
“This wine is not a sweet dessert liquor. Rather, it is dry, while carrying the distinct aroma unique to cherries, along with subtle nuances of rose and red fruit. Oak aging has added structure, so it should be perfectly suitable as a light aperitif, or paired with dishes such as meat and cheese.”
If a mere twenty-year-old came forward in a place like this and said he had made the wine, it would raise doubts, so I had intentionally put Dad forward. People were already focused on Dad’s explanation, drawn in.
I stood at one side of the prepared table and served the cherry wine with Dad. The moment it was carefully poured from the stainless-steel decanter, the red liquid flowed into the glasses and glittered beneath the sunlight. Ruby and crimson overlapped and spread.
“Please try a glass.”
People brought the wine to the tips of their noses with a touch of curiosity. Naturally, the aroma spread through the air, filling the space with scents of ripe cherry, faint rose, and soft vanilla and spice that seemed to have seeped in from the oak.
“Ohhh—.”
Someone’s astonished exclamation did not feel out of place. Then came sips of tasting, one after another, and words of admiration.
“Wow... this is cherry wine?”
“Incredible.”
Every single one of them failed to hide the surprise on their faces, and someone even drank it all at once and asked for more. Mark and Sienna in particular were visibly shocked by the taste of a cherry wine unlike anything they had ever tried before.
“It’s definitely different...”
Sensing that the ability of that Asian father and son was anything but ordinary, Mark decided he would make his move once the tasting was over.
Before the people’s astonishment had even faded, someone suddenly sprang to his feet. Startled, I looked over and saw that it was Frederick, the owner of the cherries.
As everyone watched in surprise, he abruptly approached me, where I stood beside Dad, and placed his thick hand on my shoulder as if he were a school bully extorting money. Then he spoke in a low voice.
“Can we... talk for a moment? Quietly.”
And so, without getting to watch any more of the owners’ dopamine-fueled reactions, I was quietly dragged into the winery like an innocent student caught by a delinquent. From a distance, Mark watched the scene in bewilderment.