Around evening, the sight of the tranquil sunset draping over Chloe’s house at Deer Ridge Country Club looked incredibly beautiful. But unlike that beautiful scenery, the atmosphere inside the house was anything but warm.
A simple meal with a bottle of wine was set on the table, but with Frederick’s face hardened, not only his children Brandon and Chloe, but even his wife Amelia was carefully watching his mood.
"With you sitting like that, the kids are uncomfortable—how can we even eat?"
Unable to stand it any longer, Amelia spoke up, and Frederick relaxed his expression.
"Ah, right. Let’s eat."
Though he said let’s eat, Frederick kept sipping his wine rather than touching the food before him. Thoroughly displeased, Amelia tapped his plate with her fork.
"It’s your favorite lamb. Eat up."
Frederick nodded and chewed the meat listlessly, then soon fixed his gaze on Brandon, who sat at the end of the table with his head bowed, swallowing his food. Carefully, he spoke.
"Brandon, how about just living a normal life?"
Brandon’s head slowly rose.
"Excuse me?"
"No matter how much you’re a farmer’s son, when I look at my friends’ children or the cooperative members’ kids, quite a lot of them work regular jobs. Some follow their parents and farm, but many don’t. Although you didn’t get to go to a good school, if you set your mind to working, you can make a living just fine. If you properly learn a trade, though your body will suffer, you can earn an annual salary of a hundred thousand dollars."
His words were calm but weighed heavily on the air at the table.
"A trade?"
"You know the local plumber? Mr. Yenson, I mean. He has his own business, so he probably makes at least two hundred thousand dollars a year."
"..."
"If we sell the farm, we’d get at least two point five to three million dollars. I’m thinking of inheriting that money to you, so you could learn a trade like Mr. Yenson and start your own business too."
Brandon’s spoon stopped. It was unexpected. He hadn’t said "I’ll give it to you later"—he spoke as if he’d hand over the $2.5 million right away. But strangely, rather than feeling good, Brandon felt his heart plummet.
"The farm... you’re selling it?"
Frederick nodded.
"Dad isn’t getting any younger, is he? When pests spread like this year and the weather turns upside down, farming is as good as ruined. I’m not necessarily blaming you. Even a more seasoned farmer than you could be helpless against something like this, and I’ve had such experiences too. The problem is that these things will keep happening. That’s farming."
"..."
"If farming doesn’t suit you, I was thinking you might work a job like others, or learn a trade. Even a job with a low salary is fine by me. With $2.5 million, if you invest it in dividend stocks and pension assets, you can expect quite high returns."
Unlike Koreans, Americans invest a significant portion of their assets in stocks, funds, pensions, and other financial instruments. Therefore, Frederick’s proposal to his son wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Brandon hung his head. In the past, he would have jumped at that offer immediately. He would have planned to buy a car, hit on women, and have fun with that money right away.
Of course, even now he was very interested in women, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to have fun. In reality, he farmed during the day and often drove to clubs in the evening. Brandon himself had thought this behavior was quite diligent. While others just played around, he was working and playing these days, so he had even looked down on his peers who did nothing but party.
"What do you think?"
Brandon recalled his recent life. The days when he went back and forth to the farm every day, pouring his heart into the walnut trees... Yet when he learned that all this effort had gone to waste and the farm had failed, a sense of emptiness and disappointment had washed over him.
Honestly, receiving $2.5 million and preparing for employment at a leisurely pace was a hundred times better, but those words wouldn’t easily leave his mouth. It was because of his younger sister Chloe, who was casually picking at her salad right beside him.
Chloe, who had seemed interested only in having fun, had devoted herself entirely to farming from dawn till dusk ever since meeting that Asian man, as if she had been born for it, not hitting the clubs even once. Yet somehow he envied that sight. Because her face wasn’t weary and irritated from being buried in farm work; she looked joyful every single day.
He still couldn’t understand why his younger sister enjoyed farming. But she had taken out a loan of over a million dollars and shouldered that burden to farm. As her older brother, showing her a sight of him running away was embarrassing.
After pondering briefly, Brandon took a shallow breath and spoke in a low yet firm voice.
"... Please give me one more chance."
Frederick’s hand stopped at the unexpected words.
"What did you say?"
"This year was my mistake. My preparations were insufficient, and I took the climate too lightly. But next year will be different. Something like this year won’t happen again."
Resolve filled his son’s eyes. They reminded Frederick of the look in Chloe’s eyes when she first opposed pest control with pesticides, insisting the cherry trees would get hurt.
Frederick quietly gazed into those eyes and spoke in a low voice.
"If we sell the farm, you’ll get at least $2.5 million in hand. You’re saying you’d give that up and keep farming?"
"It’s not giving up—we can sell it later, too. Before that, I really want to try."
The mental blow from this year’s failed walnut harvest hadn’t been Brandon’s alone. Frederick had also been deeply affected, which is why he had seriously pondered and asked his son’s opinion, but inwardly he had expected his son to abandon the farm.
Therefore, this answer from his son was completely unexpected.
"... Very well. Eat."
"Yes."
Frederick said no more and picked up his wine again, but his wife Amelia could feel her husband’s mood had improved considerably. His expression had become much more relaxed.
Afterward, when the meal ended and the children had returned to their rooms, Frederick and Amelia were left alone and continued their conversation over wine in the quiet.
"Dear, did you really intend to inherit the money from selling the farm to Brandon?"
"Why? Does it sound like a lie?"
"You don’t usually trust Brandon. Didn’t you say before that giving money to someone at a young age ruins them?"
"That’s true. I still think the same. That’s why what I said earlier was on the condition that a wealth manager handles it. I’d only make about a hundred thousand dollars available for Brandon to use."
"So you’d only give him enough to feel good, and the rest would be untouchable money? Our son would probably buy the nice car he’s always wanted, and that would be the end of it."
"Still, I was going to let him use the dividends and such. That alone would be enough for him to spend by himself without working and just playing around, wouldn’t it?"
"I suppose so..."
"The problem is..."
Frederick’s hand, turning the wine glass, suddenly stopped. He continued with a deeply settled gaze.
"It’s a walnut farm now... The weather is so erratic that the cultivar itself can’t endure. No matter how well you do, there’s no profit left. Cherries are a collaboration with Brian, so we can maximize profits through the earnings from winemaking, but walnuts don’t have that. That’s why Brian doesn’t particularly want to collaborate either."
"So even if Brandon succeeds at walnut farming alone, there’s nothing left? Come on, we still made quite decent profits from walnuts every year."
"Have my expectations gotten too high?"
"That’s exactly it. Brian has raised your standards too high. Cherry prices have gone up a lot compared to before—you know you don’t calculate prices the way you used to these days, don’t you?"
"Hmm... But I don’t try to charge more without reason. Our cherries are special, that’s all."
"I know that too. But it’s true that because of that, walnut farming looks even more insignificant, isn’t it?"
"..."
His wife was right. In the past, the profits from walnut farming alone would have been enough to satisfy him, but now it seemed too meager.
"Still, I’m proud of Brandon. He only looks intimidated by you, but these days he’s working so hard."
"You think I don’t know that?"
"If you know, why don’t you show it?"
"..."
"Anyway, that’s why you proposed selling the farm, isn’t it? Since even you can see the work is hard but the profits aren’t great, you were going to sell it, pretending it would be a good thing if Brandon agreed?"
Frederick nodded honestly.
"That’s right. I naturally thought Brandon would agree, but the kid has changed. It’s good, and yet also a pity... Waiting one more year isn’t the problem, but I am worried."
"Instead of that, why don’t you ask Brian again?"
Amelia set down her glass and smiled softly.
"He suggested pear farming instead of tomatoes. I don’t know how that result will turn out, but if you actively reach out and ask, don’t you think he might suggest another alternative?"
"You’re saying to change the cultivar? Like choosing pears instead of tomatoes?"
"If Brandon agrees, wouldn’t that be good in the long term?"
Changing cultivars is more difficult than changing professions. You have to tear up all the foundational infrastructure you’ve invested in and cultivated, and bring in additional funds to alter the environment to suit the new crop.
That is why Chloe’s choice was not one just anyone could make.
"Hmm, I see. I’ll do that."
Would Brian be able to provide an answer this time too? Frederick’s worries only deepened.
---
A vineyard on the verge of August must be tended to with the same nervous care as a high school senior facing college entrance exams. Now that it had grown quite large, inspecting everything—including Redwood and the newly acquired Ironwood Celas site—required eating lunch quickly as well, so waking early in the morning was only natural.
Especially for me, as someone for whom crafting wine was also important, thinking about preparations in the aging room to create a new cult-class wine made each day feel even shorter.
"Taste is one thing, but how to construct the story..."
What determines a wine’s price is taste, certainly, but also scarcity and story. Therefore, how to construct the story was my greatest concern these days.
As I was worrying over this in front of the massive stainless steel tanks in the aging room, I received a call from Frederick.
"Yes, sir."
"I have something weighing on my mind, you see. Actually..."
After hearing the gist, I gave a bitter smile. I could tell how deeply he was troubled.
"Understood. I’ll head over now."
I was busy, but it wasn’t to the point that I couldn’t offer advice to Frederick, with whom I had a strategic business alliance. Thus, I arrived at Deer Ridge Country Club and spoke with Frederick while looking out at the golf course in front of his house.
"So you’re saying you could grow a different crop instead of walnuts?"
"That’s right. Just as you recommended pears instead of tomatoes."
"Hmm... And this would be for Brandon?"
Frederick made a slightly troubled expression, then spoke hurriedly as if making an excuse.
"Don’t worry, I’ll help as well."
"Haah..."
"Why? Is it difficult? I understand it could be."
"The crop itself doesn’t seem like it would be that difficult..."
His question wasn’t so difficult for me. Based on it being 2006, I knew of a few crops that, if we prepared now, wouldn’t necessarily be a jackpot but could certainly yield sufficient profits.
The problem would be various environmental conditions.
"Then?"
"Two come to mind. One is blueberries."
"Blueberries? Can those make money?"
At this point in time, blueberries weren’t a crop that received much spotlight. So if we entered now and captured the blueberry market, we could obtain profits differentiated from walnut farming.
"Possibly? That’s what I think."
But since it wasn’t a crop commonly seen in the market, Frederick couldn’t readily show a positive reaction. When choosing a crop, there naturally had to be visible numbers, and blueberries still lacked in that regard; above all, they were clearly perceived as unfamiliar.
"Hmm... What’s the other?"
"Almonds."
His eyes showed surprise.
"Almonds?"
"Yes, almonds."
"Almonds, almonds..."
Curiosity gradually settled in his eyes. He couldn’t be unaware that almonds were slowly drawing attention in the market. What was peculiar was that 2006 was right before the gold rush for almonds, when prices were beginning to stir in the market.
"But almonds require large initial capital, and the first harvest is too far off. It takes at least four to five years."
"True."
"So what if... you sold the walnut farm and bought an almond farm instead?"
His eyes widened at my question.
"So... you’re saying to switch farms?"
"Shingo pears didn’t have large-scale established orchards in California, so we had to start from scratch, but almonds are different."
He had been bewildered at first by the idea of selling the farm, but soon his eyes began to change.
"Sell and buy again...?"