The next day, when I visited Jacob’s farm in Sacramento again, his mood was completely deflated, unlike yesterday.
“Why? Did the estimate come out expensive?”
The reason seemed obvious, so I probed, and Jacob nodded. Then, with a dejected face, he held out the estimate he had received from the company. The amount was written in bold on the document. It was the estimated cost for renting laser leveling equipment and carrying out the work.
“Hmm... Two hundred dollars per acre. Your farm is eighty acres, so that’s sixteen thousand dollars... And with the observation tubes and labor included, it comes to about forty thousand dollars total?”
“Yeah...”
Jacob looked as if he was about to cry, his worries over money written all over his face.
“It’s not like our farm was always this broke, but my dad’s hospital bills cost us a fortune. On top of that, after Dad’s health started getting worse, the harvests weren’t that good either, so the last few years have been rough. At least thanks to you, last year’s harvest was decent.”
I understood. After all, there was a saying that getting sick in America could ruin an entire household.
“Yeah, I get it. But you don’t have to worry too much.”
“Huh? What do you mean, I don’t have to worry?”
“I looked into USDA NRCS—that’s the Natural Resources Conservation Service under the U.S. Department of Agriculture—support programs. If this falls under soil conservation or water-saving measures, you may be able to get a grant. You don’t have to shoulder it all by yourself.”
Jacob, who had been gloomy, brightened up.
“Really? Something like that exists?”
“There are several kinds of support like this if you look carefully. People just don’t get them because they don’t know. For now, apply, and if you get approved, it should help a lot.”
“Got it. I’ll do that.”
A few days later, Jacob, whose face had brightened that day, contacted me. But the news was not good at all.
“My dad... passed away...”
Lucas Miller’s funeral was held.
Instead of the smell of soil from the farm, the gentle sound of the church organ filled the heavy space. The chapel, with its white walls and rows of wooden pews, was filled with people dressed in black.
The coffin was placed in the center, and on top of the polished wooden casket lay a mixture of white chrysanthemums and red roses. Jacob sat in the front row. His face tried to maintain composure, but his hands were trembling faintly.
The pastor leading the funeral opened his mouth with a solemn expression.
“Lucas was... a farmer, a father, and our neighbor. He loved the land, and he loved his family. The seeds he sowed were not only in the fields. They remain in the hearts of his family and in the memories of his neighbors.”
People nodded and wiped at their eyes, and Aunt Maggie quietly dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. Jacob held onto the shoulder of his mother sitting beside him. Watching them, I too felt tears rise to my throat, but I held them back.
The time came to step forward before the coffin and say final goodbyes. Jacob moved with heavy steps. The photograph of his father placed on the coffin greeted him. It held the smile Lucas had given him for the last time in the hospital room.
Jacob clenched his teeth, holding back his tears, and said,
“Dad... don’t worry. Mom, and the farm... I’ll protect them no matter what.”
With his hand resting on the coffin, Jacob stood there for a long time, as if trying not to forget that warmth through his fingertips.
Armando and I quietly watched from the back, and Chloe turned her head away to hide the tears flowing down her face.
That afternoon, after the funeral ended, the farm grew quiet once more. People left one by one, and the sound of the chapel bell ceased.
“It’ll be all right. You’ll be able to get through this.”
“Thank you for coming, everyone...”
We comforted Jacob like that and left. Seeing how composed he had been even at the funeral, I believed he and Aunt Maggie would be able to overcome this together.
---
Time passed, winter quickly went by, and spring arrived.
Jacob’s farm had received funding from USDA NRCS, completed the laser leveling work, and even installed the observation tubes. In other words, they had finished the tasks that absolutely had to be done in winter.
Chloe’s farm was just as busy. As I had told her, after measuring the soil acidity, they applied lime and gypsum, and soon began spring by applying trace amounts of boron and zinc.
On the other hand, I had a little time to spare. Dad, who had already gone through one spring, knew very well what had to be done in winter and spring, even without me telling him.
So I moved to look into something I had been putting off for a while. I needed to expand the winery with the seven hundred thousand dollars I had received from Chloe’s father, Frederick.
The place I headed to early was the Sacramento Convention Center.
At the entrance hung a large banner reading “Unified Wine & Grape Symposium 2005,” and beneath it, industry people in suits and farm owners in casual clothes were mixed together in line.
The name tags hanging around each of their necks made it clear that this was the forefront of the wine industry, and simply participating in it made me feel excited.
“The atmosphere’s nice.”
Even before my regression, fairs like this had made my heart race. New technologies and new equipment raised my expectations just by looking at them and speaking with people.
Once I entered the enormous exhibition hall, it was filled with equipment that was considered state-of-the-art for this era: fermentation tanks, oak barrels, bottling lines, and even the latest agricultural machinery.
“I heard this year’s harvest in Mendocino is down by at least twenty percent compared to usual?”
“That’s right. But Central Valley’s actually increased instead. Market prices are going to fluctuate a bit.”
As I passed by, conversations from consultations naturally reached my ears.
After walking a little farther, a middle-aged man in a suit raised his voice beside a gleaming tank.
“How efficient is the cooling on this tank? The last model couldn’t hold the temperature in midsummer.”
“This one has a double-jacket structure, so it’s much more stable. It can control fermentation temperature within plus or minus one degree.”
I stopped walking without realizing it. Plus or minus one degree... The very fact that people were already talking about something like this in 2005 made it seem impressive.
At the booth right next to it, a young couple was talking in front of oak barrel samples.
“Do you use French oak barrels, by any chance?”
“Yes, medium toast. Last year, we went with light toast, but it was too bland.”
Listening to the disappointment and expectation carried at the ends of their words, I found myself smiling. I could directly feel that this was a place where people struggled fiercely to protect their own wineries and make better wine.
Just then, a middle-aged salesperson approached me with a smile.
“Welcome! We’re Santa Rosa Stainless Steel. Come take a look at our latest stainless steel fermentation tanks!”
Since I had come to look at fermentation tanks anyway, I naturally stopped. A large silver tank glittered under the exhibition lights and caught my eye. It was a cylindrical tank as tall as two adults stacked on top of each other, with shiny pipes and gauges attached to its side.
“Do you operate a winery? Or are you planning to start one?”
A blond, middle-aged salesperson approached with a bright smile. On his chest was a badge that read, “Mike, Sales Manager.”
“I run a small winery. We have a fifteen-acre vineyard.”
Mike’s eyes sparkled for an instant.
“Ah, that’s the perfect size. This five-thousand-liter tank you’re looking at now was designed precisely for wineries like that. It can hold about seven tons of grapes at once, and in terms of wine bottles, that comes out to six to seven thousand bottles.”
He skillfully tapped the surface of the tank, then continued.
“It’s made of 304 stainless steel, so it’s hygienic and easy to clean. The inside is electropolished, so even when the wine comes into contact with it, no metallic taste will leach into the wine. It can also be used for storage after fermentation is complete. And as you probably know, this here is the temperature control panel. During fermentation, glycol coolant circulates through the pipes inside the tank walls to maintain the desired temperature. You won’t have to worry about fermentation going wrong even on hot summer days.”
I nodded and stroked the surface of the tank with my hand, feeling the cold touch of metal at my fingertips. Like a living heart, it seemed to be waiting for the day when grapes would someday turn into wine inside it.
Mike took one step closer and quickly picked up a brochure from the table, handing it to me.
“If you look here, we have options by size. From three thousand liters to ten thousand liters, you can combine them as needed. If you want, we can arrange a custom design consultation with our engineers right away.”
I slowly opened the brochure in my hand. Beside the densely written specifications was a photo of tanks lined up neatly in a row.
“If you order now, installation is possible before the fall harvest season. Naturally, as a trade show event, we’re offering a special discount. You can receive fifteen percent off the price listed in the brochure.”
I had come to buy tanks anyway, and now they were even offering a discount. There was no reason not to buy here.
“Then, well... are these the only five-thousand-liter and ten-thousand-liter tanks you have?”
“The basic model is around fifteen thousand dollars, and the fermentation model with a cooling jacket included is around twenty thousand dollars. The slightly larger ten-thousand-liter class varies depending on the options, but you can usually think of it as around thirty thousand dollars.”
“Hmm...”
I nodded and quickly ran the numbers in my head. Five five-thousand-liter tanks would be about one hundred thousand dollars. Add two ten-thousand-liter tanks, and that would be sixty thousand dollars. A total of one hundred sixty thousand dollars... I would be able to secure an additional total capacity of forty-five thousand liters.
Considering the budget of seven hundred thousand dollars, it was an amount that didn’t even use half of it, so it was more than manageable.
“Once you bring in the tanks, half the work is practically done. But if you want to maintain consistent fermentation quality, a cooling system is essential. A glycol chiller usually runs between fifty and seventy thousand dollars. You can connect multiple tanks at once, so even in midsummer, you can keep the fermentation temperature within plus or minus one degree.”
“Sounds good. Then I’ll order five five-thousand-liter tanks and two ten-thousand-liter tanks.”
Even when it was the same Cabernet Sauvignon, the flavor differed depending on the vineyard location, soil, and harvest timing. Also, since fermentation was the work of living microorganisms—yeast—the fermentation speed differed from tank to tank, so dividing it among several tanks allowed for flexible temperature control, cooling, and pumping over—the process of mixing the wine from top to bottom. For that reason, it was better to ferment each plot separately to preserve its individuality, then create the optimal combination later during blending. That was why I was dividing it among multiple tanks.
“You’ve made a wise choice.”
To him, who looked utterly delighted, I casually asked,
“By any chance... can you attach things like multipoint temperature sensors, dissolved oxygen, or DO, sensors, and CO₂ sensors during fermentation to the tanks?”
Mike, the salesperson, was startled.
“Pardon? Why would you want to install something like that...?”
“I want to make wine with a little more precision.”
“Hahaha! You have quite an unusual... a rather unique perspective. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can provide that.”
“Hmm. I see... Then if... another company were to add custom options to these tanks, that would be possible, right?”
“Ah... so that’s what you intend to do?”
“Yes. In that case...”
As he pondered for a moment, I spoke firmly.
“If adding options like that means you won’t provide after-sales service later, I’ll cancel the contract.”
“Sir, but... if the company adding those options handles the fermentation tanks incorrectly, it could cause problems.”
It was a perfectly reasonable concern, so I shrugged and said,
“Then if I choose the company and bring them to you... could you collaborate with them and make it the way I want? If you do that much, I won’t take the fifteen percent discount.”
At my proposal, the salesperson blinked.
“Why would you go that far...?”
“If you can’t, I’ll go somewhere else.”
When I was about to leave, he hurriedly grabbed my sleeve.
“Ah, sir! I never said we couldn’t. I didn’t.”
“So it’s possible?”
“Please wait just a moment. Just a moment.”
He immediately made a phone call somewhere. After talking for quite some time and earnestly persuading someone, he wiped his sweat once and smiled brightly.
“It’s settled. In exchange, if you add just five percent to the original price, we’ll specify in the contract that after-sales service won’t be an issue going forward, and we’ll support you so you can realize your dream to your heart’s content.”