Chapter 111: Decanter World Wine Awards (2)
TL: Hanguk
"So... a few of California's flagship wineries are going to make a wine commemorating the 30th anniversary retasting of the Judgment of Paris, and the California state government is going to promote it for them? And that's a good opportunity for the wineries?"
"It's more than just a good opportunity. This whole batch is going to be exported overseas. The whole point is to announce America's victory to wine lovers everywhere."
Did wine lovers really not know that America had beaten France? Of course they all knew. They were making it anyway because they wanted to brand this victory into memory and keep it around to boast about for years to come.
I could understand the California state government wanting that, but what I couldn't understand was why Mark was going out of his way to drag me into this golden opportunity.
Before my regression, even among master's and doctoral candidates, it was a given that whenever a good research grant came down from the government, everyone scrambled to win it. So in an industry as cutthroat as wine, someone was just going to readily hand over a chance this good? I wasn't that naive.
"I see. It does seem like a good opportunity. Is there a process or any conditions for taking part?"
Mark gave a sly grin and tapped the bar with his index finger.
"A winery like Redwood can clear the minimum requirements the state's asking for. And once you go through the association certification process in Napa and Sonoma, you'll get the chance to take part in this event."
"Association certification...?"
"The Napa Valley Vintners (NVV) and the Sonoma County Vintners."
"Ah..."
When I really listened, what he meant was that he'd be doing me a favor by letting me in. After all, association certification ultimately came down to a handful of powerful wineries giving their blessing.
"So we just make the wine ourselves and deliver it, then?"
"That's right. Nothing difficult about it."
Something still felt off, so I asked again.
"And the association doesn't touch anything, right up through shipping the wine?"
"Ah, there are a few verification steps for that part. Since it's a wine backed by California state funding, there's a process to confirm there are no problems with the production. Other than that, nothing."
"Verification steps?"
As I pressed him with one question after another, Mark's brow furrowed slightly.
"We need to confirm that the wine was made through the proper process."
I held up a hand right away.
"Ah, I appreciate the thought, but I don't think this is going to work for us."
"You're turning down an opportunity this good?"
"It is a good opportunity, but going that route risks exposing our winemaking know-how. Still, thank you for letting me know about such a great chance."
I kept piling on the thank-yous, but the awkward, stiff look on his face didn't ease. Then again, what could he do if I said no?
"Well, if you're turning down a chance like this, what's there to do. Nothing for it."
"Then I'll go and enjoy the party. This place really is... something to envy. When I buy a house someday, I'll have to build myself a space like this. Thanks for the lovely tour."
I gave a slight bow to him as he watched me with an unreadable look in his eyes, then headed up to the floor above.
"Eeeeeek!"
"Hahahaha!"
When I got upstairs, quite the spectacle was in full swing. Bikini-clad women were flinging around the foam drifting on the pool, and right in the middle of them, dashing about, was Armando.
"Hmm..."
I'll admit, I was a little envious. But then,
"Hey, isn't that your friend over there?"
I turned to look, and a very familiar figure was standing there. It was Matthew Higgins, who was close with Sienna.
"Oh? It's been a while."
The last I'd seen of him had been a passing glimpse after he graduated his senior year. He had the look of a textbook wealthy white man, and maybe that was why the polo shirt he wore suited him so well.
"Why didn't you enter the San Francisco Chronicle this time?"
"Our distributor suggested we try a different competition, so I didn't bother entering."
"There's nothing stopping you from doing both at once, is there?"
"Why? Were you hoping to go head-to-head this time?"
Matthew curled one corner of his mouth at the question.
"Honestly, yeah, I had a bit of that in mind. But since you skipped it this time, almost like you were running away, I started wondering whether the wine you put out last year just wasn't that good."
The truth was, entering both at once wouldn't have been a problem. The real reason I'd sat out the San Francisco Chronicle this time was simple: I didn't want to draw the wrong kind of attention within Napa Valley.
Ever since before my regression, I'd known that Americans were far more racist than they let on outwardly. Taking home two Double Golds at once was already the kind of thing that would bruise their pride, so what would happen if I won Double Gold or better back to back? They might not show it on the surface, but inside they'd surely be grinding their teeth.
If the volume I'd shipped had been impressive enough to top thirty or forty thousand cases, I'd have entered without giving a damn about that kind of resentment. But either way, whether I competed or not, a sellout was a sure thing. Which meant there was no reason to chase publicity just for this year.
That was why Christopher's suggestion, to enter an overseas competition rather than the San Francisco Chronicle, had, in fact, sounded appealing.
"Oh, come on, 'not that good'? If anything, it's better than the year before last's."
This was no exaggeration; it was the truth. After all, it was a wine I'd dialed in to near perfection, measuring precise temperature and oxygen levels in the aging stainless steel tanks.
Matthew gave a shrug, his face full of disbelief.
"It's a decision I can't understand, but if that's how it is, I've got nothing more to say. So this year, I guess we can't expect any official commentary on your wine."
He was implying that wine lovers' assessments were unofficial and therefore not worth discussing... Either he only heard what he wanted to hear, or what I'd said simply hadn't sunk in.
"I told you earlier, didn't I? I said we'd try a different competition. We did enter, it just wasn't San Francisco."
"Oh, did you? Then where...?"
"The DWWA (Decanter World Wine Awards)."
Matthew's eyes narrowed at once.
"Ah... that event with the short history?"
Just as I was wrestling with how to respond to that, Matthew shifted his gaze to the spot beside me and spoke.
"Happy birthday."
I turned to look, and Sienna, in a bikini, was coming toward us, drying her hair with a towel. And beside her, trailing along grinning like a puppy, was Armando...
"Thanks. You're late, aren't you?"
"I was getting your present ready."
Matthew raised his hand with a flourish, and dangling from his fingertips was a paper bag, not especially large, stamped with the luxury Hermès logo. Before my regression I'd have shot a sideways glare at some kid already flashing designer goods, but given the wealth of the Higgins family, this much could be written off as a modest little gift between college students.
"Thanks."
True to form, Sienna took the paper bag without even asking what was inside and plopped it down among the gifts her other friends had given her. But Matthew, as if he'd known she'd react exactly like that, didn't seem to mind and went on:
"My father's sending me on a wine tour of France this time. Want to come along? There's a meeting lined up with the owners of the Premier Cru Classé wineries, the Five First Growths of the Bordeaux Médoc region. You'd learn a ton, and there's nothing wrong with getting acquainted with them ahead of time, right? What do you say?"
It was the kind of remark that, before I knew it, had me worried for Armando. But Sienna, looking thoroughly unmoved, replied with a blank expression.
"Hmm, I'm not really into it... Let me know your thoughts after you've been."
"It'd be a great opportunity, though. And if you're worried about your father, don't be. My father's already spoken to yours about it."
This time, I could feel Armando's expression stiffen a little.
"I've done a similar tour before... and among the Five First Growths, I already know the owners of Lafite Rothschild and Margaux, so..."
When she turned him down yet again, Matthew's face hardened. He seemed to have made the offer in front of us on purpose, for show, and clearly hadn't expected her to shoot him down so flatly.
"...... Suit yourself."
Brushing past her shoulder, Matthew struck up a smiling conversation with some girls who recognized him. It was a truly alpha-male move, as though he were deliberately demonstrating that there were plenty of women out there even without her.
But Sienna didn't so much as glance at Matthew and instead asked me,
"What did my dad say?"
"Huh? Well, your dad asked if I wanted to team up on some wine-support project the California state government's running."
"And?"
"I turned it down."
Her gaze wavered for a moment, then she nodded.
"I see. Then again, I figured you would."
"Hey, can I ask you just one thing?"
"What?"
"Why did he want to recommend me for this project?"
I'd assumed, naturally, that she wouldn't answer. I'd only asked because I was curious what Sienna was thinking. But she opened up more easily than I expected.
"We've got a bit of history with Grendel Hill Vineyard. He probably wanted to send those grapes overseas instead of keeping them in the country."
It was an awfully candid thing to say. And it surprised me that, rather than simply coveting my winemaking methods, there was another reason lurking beneath the surface.
"I see. Nothing to be done about it, then."
"My point exactly. Want some wine?"
Sienna asked it without a care, and Armando cut in between us.
"Me, please."
She deftly opened a new bottle, pulled out a fresh glass, poured, and handed it to Armando. I watched her for a moment, then asked,
"Wasn't that supposed to be a secret? Your dad might feel hurt if he heard you say it."
"I know. You're not going to go tattle that I told you, are you?"
"No, of course not, but..."
"Then it's fine."
She stared straight into my eyes and went on,
"I hate childish stuff. And I can't stand it when people pull moves you can see right through. You know why I turned down Matthew's offer?"
"Because you could see right through him?"
"Yeah. If he'd just come out and said he liked me, I'd have given it serious thought. But he can't manage that, so instead he goes off spouting weird nonsense."
Well, hell... It hit me why Sienna put up with Armando. Someone who barreled in brainlessly, the way Armando did, was actually more her type.
Watching Armando smirk away at her side, I felt a strange surge of anger, even though I didn't have so much as 0.1% of feelings for Sienna. It had to be that I just found those smug, smirking lips of his irritating.
"So you laid it all out for me to keep things from being childish?"
"My dad taught me a lot. About wine, about life... But sometimes the way he acts doesn't line up with what he taught me. I love him, but I just... think we have different styles."
"But right now your dad's the one who owns the winery. Aren't you even considering that what you do could hurt it?"
To my surprise, Sienna let out a soft snort of a laugh and put a hand on her hip as she spoke.
"It's my dad's for now, but in another ten years it'll be mine. So what's the harm if I do things my own way?"
"Wow..."
Truly impressed by her boldness, I brought my hands together in slow, deliberate claps. Clap. Clap. Clap.
"That's impressive. I'll give you that."
"And I respect your skill too, for the record. But I'm always studying, you know. I don't think you'll stay ahead of me forever. Last year I even put a million dollars into starting up extra research... That's exactly why I can afford to turn down Matthew's offer. Everyone says Napa Valley has the best vineyards, but Sonoma's no slouch either. We'll catch up soon enough."
At her spirited declaration, I found myself glancing at Armando. Could Armando, who dreamed of a leisurely, peaceful life alongside a beautiful wife, ever handle a Sienna burning with ambition?
But Armando, apparently smitten by that ambitious side of her, had hearts in his eyes and muttered like a devoted servant,
"You're totally going to make it. One look and I can tell. You could probably even beat Brian, easy."
That bastard. His last line, too, seemed to be completely sincere.
*****
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