I’d felt it from the beginning, but people who have managed a farm in one place for a long time inevitably accumulate a considerable amount of know-how of their own. That’s why they don’t make major fertilizer mistakes. So I’d found it strange that such a mistake had happened, but at the time, seeing Brandon’s rough, belligerent behavior, I’d suspected him.
He was throwing a fit because he didn’t want the farm handed over to his younger sister. Wasn’t it only natural to think that bastard must have pulled something?
“Mr. Raymond has worked devotedly on our farm for a very long time, but... if he really used my brother like you said, it would be such a shock. But is there a particular reason you think that?”
Looking at Brandon’s broad backside and back, I said,
“If someone’s managed a farm for a long time, they build up their own experience, so they don’t usually make mistakes unless something’s really off. It’s the same when applying fertilizer. Every year, they apply the same amount at the same time. They know very well that it shouldn’t change.”
“But there are times when you can’t help but do it differently, aren’t there?”
“Right. There are a few cases where you need to vary the amount of fertilizer in a cherry orchard compared to usual—when you judge that the fruit set is low, when the climate has fluctuated a lot, when you think the trees are young in age... things like that. But the cherry trees I saw back then didn’t look that young, and I didn’t feel the fruit set was excessively low either.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Mom said so too. That this year’s harvest seemed like it would be decent. The workers said the same.”
“Then that means it’s likely because of climate change, right? For example, if there was a lot of rain in winter or spring and nutrients were leached out, additional fertilization might be necessary. Or, conversely, in a dry year, the trees undergo growth stress, so you have to reduce fertilizer input to avoid root damage.”
“There really is so much you have to know about farming...”
Chloe seemed more surprised by my explanation than anything else.
“Of course. Anyway, if it had been dry, they should have reduced the fertilizer, so that can be ruled out. But I never heard that there was a lot of rain last winter or this spring. Was there?”
“...No.”
“Right. Then there was no reason to change the amount of fertilizer before spring.”
Unable to keep listening, Chloe suddenly straightened her back.
“What? Then what Mr. Raymond did wasn’t a mistake!”
“Calm down. Do you think your father doesn’t know what I know?”
“...Do you think he knows?”
“......”
Looking at the daughter who had absolutely no faith in her father, I shook my head.
“He probably knows. But it seems like a situation where it’s hard to just blindly press Mr. Raymond. Brandon could have pestered him to teach him how, couldn’t he?”
“That does seem likely.”
Her distrust of her brother was severe too.
“So your father is probably keeping an eye on Mr. Raymond while not being able to openly say anything to him. No, maybe he already met him and talked to him. He might have asked what his intentions were.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Probably? From watching Brandon nearby for a bit, I doubt he has any sense at all when it comes to variations in fertilizer. He didn’t seem to have that much agricultural knowledge. Anyway, if your father knows, then Mr. Raymond will be careful from now on, but still... I don’t really like the idea of someone like that staying on your farm for long...”
“You’re right that it’s not a good thing.”
“Honestly, isn’t it? Let’s say the farm manager was pestered by that... by someone asking him to help ruin the area his younger sister manages. And he actually helps? If your father hasn’t fired Mr. Raymond, it’s probably because of his long history of devotion to the farm, and because there’s no proper evidence. Ah, is Mr. Raymond still helping you now?”
Perhaps feeling disappointed in someone she had trusted, Chloe drooped and shook her head.
“Right now, he mostly helps out at my brother’s walnut farm.”
“Then that’s an even bigger problem.”
“Don’t tell me you think Mr. Raymond might be pulling something at the walnut farm too. That can’t happen. Dad looks through every single record himself.”
“He probably reads all the reports. But what if the record says they used a hundred bags of fertilizer, when in reality they only used ninety? Would he be able to know even that?”
“......”
“I’m not saying it’s certain, but it’s entirely possible. That’s why, with farming, you need to personally check the soil, apply the fertilizer yourself, and know every corner of the farm like the back of your hand. But the land is this huge... Do you know why your father relied on his children so much? It’s because he can’t trust other people.”
Having trustworthy people or not—whether in a company or on a farm—has an enormous impact on the person running the place.
“Then Dad attaching my brother to you so he can learn from you is also...”
“There’s probably the aim of making it so he can do many things on his own without Mr. Raymond’s help, and he likely has hopes that maybe he can change, like you did.”
“Ah...”
I quietly looked at Chloe as she nodded, then said gently,
“Stop slacking off and hurry up and dig. Yours is the only spot that isn’t done yet.”
Not only Brandon, but dozens of other workers had already moved on to other trees and were digging circles in the same way, burying fertilizer.
“I said I got it, tch...”
Chloe grumbled and started shoveling again, while I leisurely clasped my hands behind my back and began thinking about what I should ask Mom to make for dinner tonight.
---
The next day, around 7:30 in the morning at Redwood Winery.
A white box truck slowly rolled forward out of the winery yard.
“How is it? Pretty cool, right?”
Mom and I looked up at the truck Dad had driven out.
“Drive safely.”
“It is pretty cool.”
Mom and I gave different impressions.
An Isuzu NPR. A fourteen-foot medium refrigerated box truck. It was a vehicle rented through a rental company called Ryder.
Originally, because of the Three-Tier System in alcohol distribution law, it was illegal for a winery to distribute directly to restaurants, but since we had registered with ABC, the Alcoholic Beverage Control, and received a license that allowed direct delivery—a Winegrower License, Type-02—there was no problem.
Mr. John Anderson could have handled distribution on our behalf, but we hadn’t called him because the cherry wine was not wine made from grapes grown at Redwood Farm. Even so, if we used a distributor, the profit margin would plummet, so Dad had deliberately obtained a distribution license, saying there was no need for that.
The temporary “Redwood Reserve Winery” logo attached to the side of the vehicle was quite impressive. It had been made as a stopgap and stuck on with a sheet, but it was subtly stylish.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, Father rolled down the window and said,
“I’ll do a good job and be back.”
“Yes~ Be careful.”
Dad nodded briefly, then stepped on the accelerator. With the low roar unique to a diesel engine, the truck rolled down along the Napa road.
Starting with the first destination, a restaurant in downtown Napa called Codyance, then a wine bar in Sonoma called The Gull, the restaurant Grill & Pasta, and so on... Dad’s refrigerated truck moved without rest.
After grabbing lunch at a hamburger place and moving again, by the time he reached Blaze Bistro in San Francisco, it was already close to six in the evening.
“You’re finally here!”
The owner, Theodore Goodwin, came out personally and checked the goods from Woody Choi.
“I hope they receive good reviews.”
“If the quality is the same as it was at the tasting, there will certainly be good results.”
It was quite impressive to see the staff busily carrying as many as forty cases of wine into such a famous restaurant. And Theodore Goodwin kept smiling, as if certain of success.
After writing and handing Woody Choi, the winery owner, a check for the remaining balance, Theodore Goodwin immediately went inside and called Henry Wilson, the head chef.
“I told you before, didn’t I? This is that cherry wine.”
Henry Wilson looked over the label on the wine bottle with interest, then raised his brows.
“Sera...”
“Ceracia.”
“Ah, Ceracia. May I taste it?”
“Of course.”
Henry immediately called the chefs and a waiter. Then he poured a little wine for each of them.
“It’s a newly arrived wine, so everyone try it once. For reference, the restaurant price is sixty-five dollars.”
Since it was a wine to be paired with food, naturally the chefs had to taste it, and since the waiters had to recommend it to guests, they needed to taste it too. After taking in the aroma and sipping it one by one, the people widened their eyes in surprise.
“This is cherry wine?”
“Wow...”
In particular, Andres, the sous chef who could be called the number two, furrowed his brow with an expression of disbelief.
“How can cherry wine have such a complex structure? It feels completely different from any cherry wine I’ve had so far.”
Sophia, the restaurant’s sommelier, also looked impressed.
“This really is special. At this price, it will definitely leave a deep impression on customers.”
Theodore Goodwin, who had watched the staff tasting, smiled contentedly and said,
“Make Ceracia this year’s Christmas low-priced recommended wine.”
He had bought it at eighteen dollars per bottle, but the restaurant’s selling price was sixty-five dollars. Even so, it was classified as a low-priced wine. Just as ordinary eateries make money from alcohol rather than food, in restaurants too, wine is what leaves a large margin.
Since it was still the height of the busy dinner hour, the brief moment of leisure ended, and the staff immediately returned to their places and focused on their work. Then, to a customer who asked for a wine recommendation, Sophia the sommelier said,
“If your main course is lobster and grilled scallops with cherry gastrique sauce, I would recommend the cherry wine that arrived today. You won’t regret it.”
At Sophia’s answer, the guest who had asked for the recommendation, Christopher White, frowned slightly.
“Ah, today is an important day, so please recommend a good wine.”
He politely tried to receive a recommendation for another wine. But the young woman sitting in front of him leaned her upper body forward and said,
“I like it, though? If you’re going to show off again with that ridiculous wine knowledge of yours, I’m going home, so keep that in mind.”
Christopher, in his mid-thirties, looked slightly troubled, then raised his hand as if telling her to do as she liked.
“We’ll take it. The lady across from me wants it.”
It seemed like a situation where she might have made some kind of mistake, but Sophia trusted the impression she had gotten when she tasted it earlier.
“You probably won’t regret it.”
When the sommelier left, Christopher was about to say something, but at the sight of the woman glaring, he simply closed his mouth. Satisfied that she had shut him up, the woman said,
“I want you to understand that I’m here to date you, not to be taught. Save that kind of thing for the devoted readers of the wine journalist columns you write.”
“I just want to share a lot of knowledge about wine.”
“Sometimes that knowledge ruins a good mood. Look at what just happened. The sommelier recommended it with good intentions. It was even reasonably priced.”
“You don’t know this, but cherry wine isn’t even really treated as wine. It’s just... a fruit liquor pretending to be one. Since today is an important day, I just...”
But the woman sliced a hand down firmly.
“Enough. An important day doesn’t mean I necessarily want to drink expensive wine. And I’m curious about that pretend liquor, all right?”
“Whew, fine. I get it.”
The couple, who had seemed to argue for a moment, soon changed the topic to something else and smiled lovingly at each other as if they had never fought. Then the wine came out. Sophia first showed the wine to Christopher.
“Cera...cia?”
“Oh, the name is pretty.”
Unlike Christopher, who frowned, the woman’s expression brightened, saying she liked the name. Then Sophia poured the wine into the glasses placed before each of them. The sound of the purple liquid falling clearly. Perhaps finding it visually satisfying as well, the woman wore a deep smile at the corners of her mouth.
“To our fifth anniversary.”
“You’ve worked hard all this time.”
The glasses met with a clear clink, and each brought theirs to their lips. And then,
“Wow~ I’m completely satisfied. Thank you so much. I was so sick of that man in front of me showing off, but you really gave him a blow.”
Sophia smiled with her eyes at the woman’s praise. And Christopher, who had swallowed the wine he’d held in his mouth, stared at the purple liquid with a strange expression, then said to Sophia,
“Could you hand me that bottle again for a moment?”
Taking the bottle, Christopher looked at what was written on the label and tilted his head.
[Redwood Winery Napa Valley, California]
“Redwood... But Napa Valley?”
Having first been surprised by the taste of cherry wine, unlike anything he had felt before, he was surprised a second time by the fact that they were making wine from cherries instead of grapes on land that expensive.
He gazed intently at the name of the winery.