Chapter 101: Soaring Fame (3)
TL: Hanguk
In mid-November, while Sylphide was causing a stir in the wine industry, I was busier than I'd ever been.
It was because this was the season when we had to ship out Echelon, and then Cerasia right after it, so no matter how well Sylphide was doing, it didn't really move me much. From the winery's standpoint, the release price had already been set at 70 dollars, and we wouldn't be able to renegotiate it until sometime next year.
But Echelon was a different story.
My expectations for this Echelon, which had come out even more flawless than last year's Double Gold winner, were enormous. The Echelon I'd made while monitoring the temperature, the CO₂, and the dissolved oxygen levels was clearly different from last year's, which I'd made on instinct.
"Hmm... this is going to need at least another year of aging..."
The work I was so ambitiously pursuing for the cult wine in particular required me to check the state of each barrel with precision. The 2004 Merlot Barrel from Kenaz Vineyards that I'd bought at auction had now been aged for over an additional year, and it was ready to serve as the perfect blending partner.
So while I was deep in thought over which barrel to select, a guest showed up at the winery.
None other than John Anderson.
He came in with both hands weighed down by paper bags, wearing a peculiar smile.
"What's all this?"
At Dad's question, he answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"The hero of Napa Valley. A gift for Redwood. And please, I'd rather you didn't feel any pressure about it. Some of this was sent over by Macy's Department Store as a token of their gratitude, too."
"Haha, even if you put it that way, it's hard not to feel some pressure."
Dad gave an awkward laugh. He knew exactly what the man was after.
When we'd first signed with John Anderson, we'd contracted the distribution rights for the 2005 and 2006 grape harvests, and now we'd entered the final year of that contract. With the original two years coming to an end, he was making no secret of his desire to extend it.
"Do you know what the situation is right now? People are flocking to Macy's Department Store just to get their hands on Echelon."
"Only wine lovers, surely."
Dad was making a deliberate effort not to feed into his excitement.
"Hahaha, why think of it so narrowly? Here, have a seat first."
Once Dad and I had sat down, he started pulling things out one by one from the paper bags he'd brought, and when I looked to see what they were, they turned out to be all sorts of luxury-brand goods.
There was a bag for Mom, a suit and a wallet and a pair of dress shoes Dad could wear, and a suit and dress shoes for me, too.
It was true before my regression and it was true now: I'd never been close with luxury goods. Whenever I had a bit of money, expanding the equipment or securing more vineyard land had always mattered more to me.
"You really shouldn't have..."
"It's a token of our appreciation, that's all..."
He pressed a wallet into the hand of my Dad who was trying to refuse it, then said, "It brings back memories. Back when I'd ruined the farm and was about to give up on everything, the moment your son and you, Woody Choi, asked me to sell you the farm, I think now that it was the moment that saved my life."
"No, well..."
"Do you know why the farm went under?"
"What? Well, that was..."
"Pest and disease damage spread badly, we couldn't manage the spraying properly, and a good portion of the grapes that year lost their marketability. But we'd been farming for decades. Do you really think I'd sell the farm just because of a few rough years?"
It seemed there had been another reason all along.
"Then?"
When Dad narrowed his eyes and asked, the man answered with a bitter smile.
"My son kept getting into trouble. He fell in with bad kids and caused trouble I can hardly put into words. I'd never had much interest in farming to begin with, and it got even harder for me to focus on it. No, I just stopped wanting to care at all. Honestly, whether I paid attention or not, a steady income kept coming in, and even when pests or other problems cropped up, my father, who'd handed the farm down to me, said the income kept flowing in steadily, so I didn't worry."
"My goodness..."
"That's why I only realized later that the farm was failing. By then there was nothing I could do. There was even a man who came to me claiming he'd solve the farm's problems, then ran off with my money... In the end I couldn't hold out, so I took on investment, and that investor wanted his money back even if it meant selling the farm, so I had no choice but to sell it cheap."
"I understand."
"But look at me. Don't I look like a proper human being now?"
He spread his arms and laughed, and his expression alone was certainly different from the old days. The man who used to walk around looking miserable now had an air of ease about him, even dressed in comfortable clothes for driving his truck.
"You do."
"And it's all thanks to you and your son, Mr. Choi."
Dad, who'd been wearing an awkward smile, glanced at me. It was a smile that carried a question: what do you want to do?
"How are Echelon sales going?" I asked.
At my question, he pulled a folder out of his bag as if he'd been waiting for it, and opened it up.
At the very front was a department store promotional catalog titled [Macy's Echelon 2006 Exclusive Launch].
"For now, the Echelon we put out to retailers last year is being distributed mainly through Macy's Department Store. The price point is high, but I'd say it's actually worth every bit of it."
"What's it selling for?"
"320 dollars."
I frowned right away. The price was far too high, and at that rate there was no reason to keep the supply price at 70 dollars.
Sensing this, John spoke up at once.
"If you raise the supply price, Macy's will raise the retail price. It's being sold through a wine shop within the department store, so when you factor in their store commission, it's not really that expensive."
"And how much is the department store commission?"
"Thirty percent."
It was a steeper commission than I'd expected, but even so I wasn't satisfied.
"Hmm... it still feels pricey, though."
"Well, the reviews have just been that good. Macy's was the one that raised the price on their end, so even I didn't realize it would get this high. What's even more surprising is that despite jacking the price up like this, they've capped it as a 'one bottle per customer' limited sale. And that actually created a waiting list of people wanting to reserve it. A few stores sold their entire stock on the first day."
There was excitement bleeding into John's voice.
"I want to keep the contract going with Redwood. What do the two of you think?"
Whether to make this year the last or to extend it into next year was extremely important. Depending on which distributor we went with, everything, from the brand image to the price, could change drastically.
Looking at it from that angle, John Anderson had clear strengths and clear weaknesses. He was in the early days of running his distribution company, so he still had little experience, the territory he could cover was small, and his marketing power was low.
The upside, though, was that because it was a small company, my wishes carried a lot of weight, his influence over the winery was weak, and he could run a more aggressive sales operation.
"You must have a contract drawn up to bring over. Could we take a look?"
When Dad asked, he flipped right to the back of the folder and showed us.
[Contract Term: 2 years + 1-year option]
[Territory: U.S. West (CA·NV·AZ)]
[Exclusivity: Limited to large retail channels]
[Payment: Net 60, quarterly advance payment]
[No Return]
John leaned his upper body forward and spoke earnestly.
"I don't think the spike in Macy's sales is just a passing fad. Sylphide has blown up in the East right now, and in the West, Echelon is climbing to the same position. The contract with Redwood accounts for 45 percent of our company's revenue. We absolutely want to sign with Redwood."
There was Echelon, of course, but right now the Redwood Vinegar that Armando was running was generating considerable revenue. Armando now held the ambition that once he'd posted three more years of stable vinegar revenue and cleared off a good chunk of his loan, he'd cut the vinegar in half and try his hand at making wine.
Dad studied the contract carefully, then said, "All right. We'll think about it."
John, who knew there was no way to decide in a single day anyhow, answered readily.
"Of course. I can wait as long as it takes."
Since we were contracting next year's distribution rather than this year's, there was nothing for us to rush about.
John smiled, held out his hand for a handshake, and left the winery. Dad, who'd been quietly watching his retreating figure, spoke.
"What do you want to do?"
"The department store's selling it for more than I expected. At that rate there's no need for us to keep it at 70 dollars, so if Mr. Anderson would take on distribution at around the 120 mark, I don't think we'd really need to look for somewhere else."
"That's true. John Anderson is basically just the middleman to Macy's Department Store anyway. How easy is that for him? He takes it from us, hands it over to the department store, and pockets a few hundred dollars a case."
"Putting it that way makes me a little jealous, you know?"
Dad laughed and ruffled my hair.
"Let's not get too greedy. Even just this much makes your dad incredibly happy."
"Me too. It's nice when people make money off our wine."
"...Should we just start a distribution company of our own?"
"Dad..."
"All right, all right... your dad's truly happy."
"Really?"
"I'm telling you. So what should we do with the money we made this time? I looked into it, and apparently a few AVAs for grape-growing have come up?"
At Dad's question, I let out a small sigh and said, "Hm, no. This time let's save up a little."
We'd taken on a substantial loan for the Silveroak wildfire disaster site, the Ironwood Cellars farm site, and expanding the winery equipment, but we'd paid off a good portion of it with the money we'd earned so far. Quite a lot had gone out in interest, but a comparable amount had come in, so there was nothing much to regret.
So the 2.5 million dollars from Sylphide selling out all at once this time was sitting untouched in the account, the Echelon revenue would be deposited bit by bit, and counting Cerasia on top of that, at least 3.5 million dollars was on its way in.
Six million dollars. It was, truly, a staggering amount of money.
Dad might be going on about a distribution company, but just running a winery with annual revenue over six million dollars was a position to be envied. By rights, then, even half of that should go toward buying farmland, but there was a reason I'd made up my mind to take it easy this year.
It was the subprime mortgage crisis coming next year.
The reason that memory was so vivid, as it would be for anyone, was the experience of watching home prices collapse. The horrifying experience of the house I'd bought with the money I'd worked so hard to earn, plus a loan, plummeting in value.
I couldn't remember exactly, but I'd heard that Napa Valley's AVAs had suffered considerable price drops back then too. During the subprime crisis, credit froze up and loan interest rates skyrocketed, so the people who'd been running their farms on loans had surely put them up for sale, even at a loss.
So rather than buying now, the right move was to stockpile funds and buy farmland once things played out later.
"Then how about we look at moving somewhere better?"
Dad, with no idea what was on my mind, was already showing his appetite for a house, since six million dollars was on its way into our hands. The truth was that the house we lived in was a rental, and not a particularly nice one at that. About the only saving grace was that, being out in the countryside, it had a fair amount of square footage.
Wanting a nice house was only natural for anyone.
"The house is a no."
I knew full well what was going to happen next year, and whatever else we did, the house was off-limits.
"Then stocks..."
"Stocks are a no too."
Stocks were included.
"What the heck. So you're saying we just park that money in the bank?"
Honestly, objectively speaking, I knew it made no sense, but right now was a time when neither real estate nor stocks were options.
"How about... a car?"
"A car?"
Dad's eyes lit up, and he gave a sheepish grin before quietly slipping into the office. He was no doubt searching the internet for what new cars were out there.
"Then I'll get one too..."
To be fair, that pickup truck really was too old. The thought of taking this chance to change my car brought a smile to my lips without my even realizing it.
*****
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