Chapter 148: Astra Vale (2)
TL: Hanguk
After word of the Quiet Hill release got out, the atmosphere in the Redwood Winery office had shifted completely. It was nothing dire, just the pleasant sort of headache that came from not having locked down a distributor yet.
"So... could we get some secured right now?"
"I'm sorry, but not yet..."
"Then how much can you allocate to us?"
"That's not settled either... It'll be finalized by this Friday at the latest."
Dad, who had answered politely over the phone, turned to me as I stepped out of the aging cellar and said,
"It's chaos out there. All of them restaurants. Should we just handle the deliveries ourselves? If I ran deliveries for one month straight, think how much money that'd be."
Recalling the days he used to deliver Cerasia himself, Dad gave off the air of a man about to rent a truck and hit the road that very minute.
"Come on, Dad, don't get greedy. There's a mountain of work to do before the Cerasia launch, so where exactly do you think you're going?"
"Haah, I suppose you're right."
The Cerasia we were putting out this time was projected at a hefty volume, more than 7,000 cases. Naturally, safely bottling that much wine, labeling it, and stacking it in the warehouse called for thorough supervision.
Even knowing all that, the reason Dad kept eyeing distribution himself was the enormous profit generated along the way. The Quiet Hill we'd supply at $70 a bottle would clearly fetch over $140 by the time it landed on a restaurant table. So of course it was tempting.
But I had little interest in that sort of distribution revenue. When I put my whole mind into making and selling wine, nothing else held much of a pull on me. And on top of that, when I thought about the profits I stood to receive from my friends' farm, distribution money didn't look all that enticing.
Just then, in the distance, I saw two sedans turn in through the farm entrance at the same time.
"Oh? They're here."
A handful of people climbed out of the cars and strolled up unhurriedly. A staff member showed them into the office.
"You're Woody Choi, the owner, correct? And this is the winemaker, Brian Choi? A pleasure. I'm Michael Hayes with RNDC. I handle California and Nevada."
"So that would be Republic National Distributing Company? RNDC."
"Correct. I'm the sales director for the western region."
After I'd shaken his hand, a woman of about forty standing behind him offered hers, and Dad took it.
"Elina Martinez, Southern Wine & Spirits. I've spent a long time on the on-premise side, restaurants and bars."
"Southern Wine & Spirits? I think I've heard the name."
"If you're doing business in California, there's no way you haven't."
Radiating no small amount of confidence, she went on.
"I hear Warren Winiarski has joined Redwood. Every wine lover out there has their eye on you now. We'd like to sign a formal distribution contract with Redwood. But... you'll want to weigh your options first, won't you?"
She glanced over at Michael Hayes beside her and gave a slight smile.
"Please, have a seat."
The two of them laid out the documents they'd each brought, and Dad and I sat down across from them and skimmed through the pages.
"Let's begin by hearing your proposals."
The instant Dad finished, Michael opened the file he'd brought as if he'd been waiting for the cue.
"We at RNDC can promise you two things. The first is an allocation system that treats your volume as an asset to be managed, rather than something to simply sell off; the second is price protection. Let me start by explaining our drop method."
"The drop method?"
"Yes. Once a month, to a fixed set of accounts only... say, six in San Francisco, eight in LA, three in San Diego. All of them restaurants with influential wine lists... And second, for price protection, we set a 'minimum sales price guide' for each account..."
Dad and I nodded along and listened closely. The moment his explanation ended, Elina picked up.
"RNDC's proposal on retail protection was impressive. That said, our approach is to raise the brand's value through the on-premise channel."
Elina slid a single sheet across to me. Bold type ran across the top.
[Sommelier Program / Chef's Table Pairing Nights / Press & Critics Track]
"The Quiet Hill I've already tasted isn't suited to being a party wine. So where should its value be built? At the sommelier's table."
"Meaning?"
"For instance, there's a restaurant in LA that seats only twelve at the chef's table, right? Get a single bottle in there, and that one bottle travels by word of mouth. The chef tells the kitchen staff, one sommelier tells another, and buyers get on the phone to other buyers."
Then, her gaze moving back and forth between Dad and me, she carried on in a confident tone.
"What we're offering is a strategy that designs your market entry the right way from the very start. Blind tastings aimed at sommeliers, and..."
Both of their impassioned presentations were undeniably impressive. And the one thing they shared was that, to a company, they all demanded exclusivity.
Just then came a knock at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and there stood Christopher White. He wore an impeccable suit as always, but the faint flush on his face laid his impatience bare.
"Brian, I'm not too late, am I?"
"Of course not."
Naturally, I had no intention of hearing offers while leaving out Christopher's White & Company Wine Trading. He may have made a good deal of money through Redwood, but it was equally true that Redwood's image had been lifted considerably by his sharp instincts.
Still, Dad had made the point that endlessly renewing the contract with a single distributor, without so much as a discussion, was never a wise move. And part of it was simply that I hadn't turned away the giant distributors who came racing over one after another, no one having asked them to.
"Thank you, we've heard you out. We'll listen to the other companies' proposals, give it careful thought, and then be in touch."
After seeing the two companies off that way, I sat Christopher down on the sofa. He gulped down a glass of cold water, steadied himself, then looked me straight in the eye and said,
"Quiet Hill... I'll take it."
He spoke as if it had already been set aside for him, yet the eagerness brimming in his eyes made it clear this was no forced pitch.
"All of it?"
"As much as you'll give me... The companies that already came and went, those would be RNDC and Southern Wine & Spirits, I take it?"
It seemed he'd worked out which companies they were from our faces alone.
"That's right."
"I'm sure they made you all sorts of offers. Among them there was probably something like the value-maintenance strategy we ran with Sylphide on the East Coast. Frankly, in terms of sheer scale, the gap between us and them is plain. So if we played the same game, objectively speaking, I don't think White & Company would have much of an edge."
"...And?"
"We don't want to be a plain distributor that simply moves Redwood's wines; we want to take on the role of your brand agency. That's why, rather than fixing the one-time distribution proceeds as our own profit, we'd like to propose a Pay Back system that returns a set portion of the sales proceeds to the winery."
"A Pay Back system?"
The term alone stirred my curiosity. Seeing that same curiosity settle over Dad's face and mine, Christopher spoke with a touch more confidence.
"In most standard wine distribution structures, the distributor buys from the winery at the wholesale price and then passes through the retail stage. As a rule, in return for shouldering the inventory burden and the sales risk, the distributor keeps one hundred percent of the sales margin. So there's a real sense in which they walk away with a sizable profit. I've heard you've set Quiet Hill's wholesale price at the same level as Sylphide, $70 a bottle, $840 a case. Is that so?"
"That's right."
"If you give us only a portion of Quiet Hill's output, we intend to handle distribution exactly as usual. But if you grant us exclusivity, then out of the profit we'd normally make, over $800 a case, we'll return twenty percent to you."
"So... you're saying you'd pay us at least $160 a case?"
He nodded firmly.
"Precisely. That way, Redwood may have sold at a wholesale price of $840 a case on paper, but in real terms you'd be earning as though you'd sold each case for a thousand dollars."
"......"
"If your total shipment came to 3,500 cases, the winery's income would climb by $560,000 over what it is now."
It was, without question, a more powerful offer than anything else on the table. At this, Dad asked,
"A brand agency, so you mean to do this with most of the wines we have?"
"That's right."
"But if you paid back on Sylphide too, wouldn't that actually leave you worse off than you are now?"
"In the short term, it would look that way. But you don't have only one wine coming out, do you? From what I hear, a cult-level blended wine is on its way soon..."
He'd been in and out of our winery so many times already that something like this hardly counted as inside information.
"Yes, that's true. So that one as well...?"
"Included."
"Hmm..."
As Dad folded his arms and turned it over in his mind, Christopher leaned in and spoke with a fierce look in his eyes.
"Think about it. Unlike the other distributors, we're obliged to return part of our profit to the winery. So if we want to maximize the company's revenue, we have to raise the wine's value. We can't just dump stock the moment it piles up in the warehouse. Which means we have no choice but to be more serious about marketing than any other company out there."
"I can see the sense in that."
"White & Company would essentially be in the same boat as Redwood. The better Redwood does, the more White & Company grows; and should Redwood's reputation fall, our company's fortunes go down with it. But would the other companies be able to say the same?"
"......"
"They'd probably be different."
As if he'd said everything he'd come to say, Christopher drew himself up straight and looked at the two of us.
"Would you give us a little time to think it over?"
"Of course."
"Good. Then we'll reach a decision and get back to you within two days."
"Thank you. Well then..."
The moment he left, Dad turned to me and said,
"That man's dead set on this, isn't he? He's staked everything on Redwood. He's treating our company like a winning lottery ticket."
"I'd guess Warren coming on board played the deciding role in that."
In truth, the wine Warren's arrival had actually improved was the blended wine soon to come out, so he'd contributed nothing at all to Quiet Hill. Still, there was no denying that, seen from the outside, it could be read as solid proof that Redwood was destined to grow even bigger from here on.
"Warren really is a treasure. Just coming on board once, and he's already producing results like this."
"That's part of it... and he did give us crucial help with the blended wine."
"Yeah? I tried them both, the one you made and the one Warren adjusted, and I couldn't really tell much of a difference."
"Hmm... it's not that there's no difference."
Ever since we'd started making wine, Dad had been studying hard too, but only two years had gone by. Among wine lovers, someone entering their third year was well past taking their very first steps, and yet still nowhere near a level that could be called rich in experience.
"Still a long way to go, then."
"A long way, yeah. Even at a bottle a day, you'd have to keep drinking at least three more years before any of it starts to make sense."
"So how is it that you know it all so well?"
"...... I do have... a bit of a knack for it."
Leaving Dad in the office, I stepped out and stood quietly watching Warren, who was in the aging cellar experimenting to make brandy, and then I asked,
"That thing, is it actually going to work?"
"Quiet, you! Just wait!"
Warren let out a snort of a laugh and glared at the beaker where the Cabernet Sauvignon and Cerasia had been blended together.
"So this one's finally started to speak up..."
*****
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