Chapter 123: Assistant (1)
TL: Hanguk
Today, Stag's Leap Wine Cellars was gripped by considerable tension as it welcomed some very important guests. The principal parties to the sale had arrived: Brad Cooper, Vice President of Ste. Michelle Wine Estates (MW Estates), and Alessandro Bellini, President of Marchesi Antinori.
On the sofa set up behind the negotiation table, the two sons and Hudson sat with tense faces, watching the negotiation unfold.
These were men who had left the previous meeting with considerable progress made, so judging by how stiff their expressions were now, it was clear they were deeply unhappy with how things were going.
Warren rested his wrinkled hands on the table and spoke in a low voice.
"You'll have heard the story already... I'm sure you're wondering why I'm doing this all of a sudden, and I hope you'll understand. I don't know how much longer I have to live, and the thought of going on with my hands off wine entirely leaves me at a loss."
Brad Cooper, who was already on quite friendly terms with the family, spoke with a troubled expression.
"But sir, if you insist on removing the non-compete clause, the risk becomes far too great for us as the acquiring party."
"It's not that I don't know that. That's why I said I'd put in the condition that I won't acquire a company or start a new one."
"The problem, sir, is the very fact that you could walk into any winery as its winemaker. Whatever winery you end up at, people will start calling it Stag's Leap."
"You're putting things rather extremely. People's palates, the foods they love, those don't change easily. The same goes for the wines they enjoy. Even a restaurant people rave about and visit all the time, they'll turn their backs the moment the taste changes. People know exactly the flavor they want. They might give a wine a try once or twice on the strength of a winemaker's reputation, but if it doesn't meet their standard, they'll go right back to what they were drinking before."
"That's true, but..."
"I believe I've conceded plenty. If your side can't budge even a little, then regrettably, I'll have to accept that there's nothing to be done. What can you do? Our standards simply differ."
From the acquiring side's perspective, that hardly counted as a concession, but the two men knew a blockbuster property like Stag's Leap wouldn't come on the market again anytime soon. They looked at each other and sighed.
This time it was Alessandro Bellini, representing Antinori, who spoke with a grave expression.
"We are not blind to your wishes, sir. Then we will insert a clause prohibiting any and all copies, so that no wine may be made using the exact SLV blend you created."
"Good."
"The same logo is also off-limits."
"Naturally."
"Even if the blend isn't used as is... it would be a problem if the style turned out too similar. We would want a supplementary clause preventing even 'minimal similarity'..."
"I'll accept that as well."
Alessandro Bellini nodded and let out a quiet sigh.
"Whew... Understood. I will accept."
He turned his head to ask for Brad's opinion. Brad gave a shrug of his own and said,
"It can't be helped. I'll accept as well."
It looked as though the decision had been made on the spot, but in truth, much of it had likely been settled in advance through internal meetings at each company. Both firms must have concluded that they could not afford to let Stag's Leap slip away now that it was on the market.
At the two men's decision, the two sons watching the negotiation high-fived each other in celebration.
Once the finer details had been hammered out, Warren excused himself, saying he was tired, leaving behind the two sons and the negotiators representing the two wineries.
"Do you have any idea what's gotten into him?"
Brad asked, puzzled. He had taken Warren for a man losing his passion, someone who had barely shown up at the winery these past few years, so this sudden change of character baffled him.
"We don't know either. It's just... we were startled when he picked out this Redwood Winery from who knows where..."
"Redwood?"
"Turns out Redwood Winery has nothing to do with us at all. We honestly have no idea what our father is thinking. And really, what good would knowing do? Hahaha."
"Well, then it's all settled now."
Andrew and Jonathan smiled with satisfaction. Once the revised contract was drawn up, all that remained was for their father to sign, and it would be done. They had no particular desire to know what their father was thinking. They were simply giddy at the thought of the money coming in so they could buy that building in San Jose.
But Brad and Alessandro couldn't stop wondering what Warren's true intentions really were.
"Brian! Did you see the announcement? They say Stag's Leap Wine Cellars sold for 180 million dollars."
The moment I arrived at the winery, Dad raised his voice, reading the article online.
"Yeah..."
It was something I'd already known since before my regression, so it didn't surprise me. My attention was on something else entirely: the golf membership catalog sitting on Dad's desk.
"Dad, Chloe's father sent you this, didn't he?"
"Huh? Oh... no... he just asked me to go play a round with him sometime."
"Going is fine, but don't let Mr. Frederick sweet-talk you into signing a contract at Deer Ridge Country Club."
The housing market was already growing unstable, dangerously so, enough to feel it firsthand. A few companies had started going bankrupt, and interest rates were swinging wildly.
"Hm? Is this because real estate's been looking a little shaky lately?"
"Exactly. At this rate, it might crash."
"You're right. I'll just go enjoy the round and come home. By the way, I hear Chloe knows how to golf too."
"Chloe does? Hmm... did she learn as a kid?"
"Apparently so. They say she's gooood at it. I mean, just look at Chloe, with those long arms and legs, doesn't she seem like she'd be great at golf?"
Objectively speaking, Chloe was tall and slender enough that she wouldn't have looked out of place as a model.
"Well, I've got no interest in golf."
"Try learning when you have time later. I'm sure Chloe would teach you well."
"Honestly..."
I shook my head at Dad, who was slyly avoiding my eyes. I was about to head to the aging cellar when someone called from outside.
"Brian, someone's here to see you."
"Who is it?"
"Some elderly gentleman, and he's asking for you."
Wondering who could be looking for me out of the blue, I went outside and spotted an old man I'd seen somewhere before, dressed in a red checked shirt and comfortable brown trousers, looking over the farm.
"Oh? You've come by again?"
The old man saw me, broke into a grin, and said,
"So you're here today. Last time you were over there."
"You knew I'd be there last time? Is that why you came?"
"Back then, yes."
"Why?"
"I had something to ask you."
I furrowed my brow.
"So when you asked about the land that day, it wasn't just curiosity on the spot?"
"No, that part was. I'd gone there to ask about something else, but I forgot all about it. What was happening at the time was just too intense."
I couldn't make sense of what he meant and simply stared at him, when he said, offhandedly,
"You wouldn't happen to be hiring, would you?"
"Here?"
"Where else would I be asking, if not here?"
"No, I mean... what kind of work can you do?"
"I know how to make a bit of wine."
Come to think of it, I remembered this old gentleman had known a great deal about grapes back then. Anyone who knew that much at his age had to be a veteran who'd spent years making wine somewhere else.
"Then you must have experience. Where did you work?"
"Well, that's why I put one of these together..."
He pulled a sheet of paper, folded over several times, from his back pocket and held it out to me. I looked, and it was a resume.
"I agonized quite a bit over writing that, you know..."
The old man's words weren't reaching my ears. Something about the contents of the resume was very, very off. I stared hard at it and asked,
"This is... a joke, right?"
"Nope."
"So... you're... I mean, you, sir, are Warren Winiarski?"
"That's right. I'm the man."
I blinked, then looked back and forth between his face and the resume.
The career history written on it was nothing short of dazzling.
- Founded Stag's Leap Wine Cellars and ran it for over 50 years.
- Took first place at the 1976 Judgment of Paris with the 1973 S.L.V Cabernet Sauvignon.
- Developed flagship labels including SLV, FAY, and Cask 23.
- Established soil- and block-based Micro-Vinification and blending structures.
- Personally supervised every stage of vineyard management for over 40 years, including irrigation, pruning, and harvest timing decisions.
- Conducted various research collaborations with world-class wineries and universities (including U.C. Davis).
His advisory and teaching activities were just as impressive, and the Technical Skills he'd listed were the textbook fundamentals I'd studied again and again before my regression. And then, written at the very end, his reason for applying:
[I was particularly impressed by your company's pursuit of precise soil composition and target-based grape production (Target Viticulture), and I wish to learn these methods firsthand and experiment alongside you.]
"Could you wait just a moment? Right here, just a moment..."
"I'll do that."
He gave a benevolent smile, and I hurried inside and sat down at the computer.
"Who's here?"
"Just a second."
Brushing off Dad's question, I searched for the man's name right away. Most of the results were text-only articles, and only after a long stretch of clicking did I finally find a photo of a grandfatherly face: white hair, glasses, a kindly expression.
"It's really him?"
"What is?"
"The man on this screen is standing outside right now."
"This guy? Warren... Wini... arski? The man with 180 million dollars?"
"Yeah..."
"Why?"
"He says he wants a job. At our winery."
"... Think he's a con man?"
I left Dad where he was for now and went back outside. He was still looking around our vineyard, touching the soil and examining the vines. As I approached, he pointed at the ground and said,
"The soil here is different somehow. What's in it?"
"You haven't been hired yet, so I can't tell you."
"Ah... right, of course. Then hurry up and get me hired."
He looked at me with a face full of expectation. I truly couldn't understand it, so I asked,
"Couldn't you just make wine at your own winery?"
"You haven't seen the article about my winery's sale? Surely everyone's seen it by now?"
"I saw it... but then couldn't you have just not sold it and kept doing your research there?"
"What are you talking about? It's written right there in my reason for applying."
"Yes, I read it. You want to learn the precise soil composition and target-based grape production we're pursuing. You're seriously joining us because of that?"
"That's what I'm telling you. And selling the winery couldn't be helped. None of my kids wanted to take it over."
The reason he'd had no choice but to sell the winery, it mirrored exactly how Chloe's father, Frederick, felt. If Chloe or Brandon hadn't changed their minds, he probably would have sold everything off just like Warren had.
"But... with a resume this incredible, matching your salary requirements might be a bit..."
"I'll take a hundred thousand dollars. How about it? Honestly, if I went to another winery, I could get another '0' tacked onto that. A man has his pride; you ought to pay me at least this much."
A hundred thousand a year was steep, but for the chance to put Warren Winiarski to work at that price, wineries not just in Napa but all over the world would come charging in, foaming at the mouth. Frankly, even a million wouldn't have been overpriced.
"Fair enough. But if you join my winery, you have to follow my instructions. Can you manage that?"
This part seemed to give him pause. He hesitated a moment, scratching his nose, and pulled a reluctant face.
"Every instruction?"
"Of course."
"Hmm... I'm a bit blunt, you see. If something's wrong, I point it out on the spot."
"You're welcome to point things out. If something's wrong, it should be fixed."
"Right? Well then..."
"But I'm the same way, so if I point out something you've gotten wrong, you have to fix it too."
At the unexpected remark, he pointed his index finger at himself.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"How refreshing. Refreshing indeed..."
His eyes had gone wide with surprise, and then the corners of his mouth curled upward.
"So? Am I hired?"
"Yeah, well... let's make this work."
I held out my hand, and Warren grinned and said playfully,
"Good decision. So, what's my title?"
"Associate Winemaker. It's an assistant position, helping me out. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"
"Not at all. It's a truly fine position. Exactly what I wanted."
He beamed, gazing fondly at a farm that, compared to the one he'd once owned, could only be described as a tiny speck.
*****
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