Chapter 27: Cherry wine (2)

TL: Hanguk

Brentwood Deer Ridge Country Club.

The place Chloe invited me to wasn’t some temporary residence on a farm, but located at Deer Ridge Country Club, with its long name.

A country club, as meant here, referred to a social club at the center of a high-end residential community, equipped with various recreational and social functions such as golf and tennis, a pool, restaurants, and event spaces.

So you could tell how rich Chloe’s family was just by hearing the neighborhood’s name.

It became clear here that it wasn’t only because of her looks that Elaina, who used to strut around with that vast Silver Oak Farm, couldn’t make a peep when Chloe scolded her.

As the pickup truck I was driving slowed down entering the residential complex, the smoothly stretching fairways of the golf course spread out dazzlingly before my eyes. A completely different world from the dusty cherry orchard roads. The lawns were manicured like a painting, and every house seemed to proudly display large marble columns and gardens.

It was late afternoon, when it looked like the sun would soon set, so the view of the mansion bathed in sunset light looked like a painting.

"The neighborhood atmosphere..."

Even before my regression, I hadn’t been to rich neighborhoods like this very often. Back then, I was a salaryman, rents near New York were expensive, and once I fell into agriculture, I threw myself into studying.

Now and then, back when I was an accountant, I’d gone on business trips and met wealthy people, but since I worked in New York, I mostly saw luxury apartments. Being invited to a rich family’s home in a high-end residential community like this was something I could count on one hand even across my whole pre-regression life.

When I arrived and got out, the door opened as if they’d been waiting, and Chloe walked out. Wearing a black dress that came down to her knees, she really was pretty.

“You’re here?”

“... Are we going to an awards ceremony after dinner or something?”

“...... Shut up.”

“I thought maybe...”

“Enough. Anyway, you found it just fine?”

“I followed the map. Nice house. Do you live here?”

“We have this place, and one in Crockett too...”

It wasn’t even just one house.

"You're really a blessed... friend."

“Something like that. Let’s go in.”

When we opened the door and went in, Chloe’s mother greeted us with a bright smile.

“So you’re Brian!”

“Yes, hello.”

When I bowed my head slightly in the Korean way, Chloe’s mother smiled even wider and led us inside.

“I’m cooking, but it isn’t ready yet, so go up to her room first, chat, and come back down in twenty minutes.”

What kind of conversation would I even have in her daughter’s room for twenty whole minutes...

“Hmph!”

Brandon, Chloe’s big, burly older brother who had been sitting in the living room, snorted with his arms crossed and then went inside. Then a man who looked like her father approached and held out his hand. His hand was rough with calluses, but his grip was firm and warm.

“Call me Frederick. I hear you taught Chloe about farming. Thanks to you, my daughter seems to have grown a lot. Thank you.”

“Not at all. I only told her what I know.”

“Like my wife said, go have fun with my daughter. Of course, doing anything excessive is...”

What on earth is this man thinking?

“Ab-so-lute-ly not. There will never be anything like that, never... Chloe and I are just friends.”

When I said “never” twice without leaving even the slightest room for doubt, Frederick made a strange face for a moment, then turned away.

“Follow me.”

Chloe’s room was on the second floor, and it was pink-pink like any other girl’s room. It felt oddly unnatural with her wearing a black dress, yet in a way it also seemed to suit her.

She flopped down on the bed and jerked her chin toward the chair at her desk. When I sat down, Chloe crossed her arms and spoke.

“This is the first time I’ve brought a male friend, not a female friend, to this house, so my parents are reacting a bit over the top. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“It’s fine. I’m not bothered. They seemed like good people.”

At my words that I wasn’t bothered, Chloe’s lips twisted, and she crossed her legs and wiggled her foot.

“They are good people. I’ve never really gotten in big trouble growing up.”

"That's why you're so ill-man..."

“Hm?”

“No, it’s nothing. But what about your brother? Since he lost to you, doesn’t that mean the cherry farm is completely out of the question now?”

“Like I said before, even if I lost, Dad said he’d give me a different farm. That’s what will happen to my brother. We’ve got tomato and olive farms too, not just cherries.”

The farming tycoon I wanted to become was right here.

"That's impressive."

“Well, even so, I’m the one who won. Even if you combine those two farms, they’re not as big as the cherry farm.”

Chloe shrugged her shoulders and bragged, and if her older brother Brandon saw that, he would definitely find it annoying enough to smack her on the head.

“Anyway, thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to beat my brother.”

“... Yeah, okay.”

“You probably think I’m thanking you because I’m happy I got the cherry farm... and it’s not exactly wrong. I like pretty and sophisticated things. To keep that lifestyle, money is essential, and I thought the farm Dad raised would be a good asset.”

“It is a good asset.”

“It’ll be a little different from you. I... thought of it like real estate. Like, if you have a big plot of land and pay the workers, cherries just grow on their own. But when Dad gave me that mission, the world I’d imagined got shattered. That was when I properly realized cherries don’t just grow by themselves.”

“Mm...”

“Catching the bugs I absolutely hate with my own hands to deal with aphids was shocking. At first, catching the bugs was shocking, but later, it was shocking to see those bugs eat the aphids and the sick trees get better. Maybe that’s what Dad is grateful for, too. More than just you teaching me farming knowledge.”

“You’re a person who can actually have a normal conversation, more than I thought?”

“... Just what did you think of me? Did you think I was some dumb, stupid blonde with big boobs?”

It wasn’t something I could help, that my gaze dropped down and came back up in an instant.

“... I never said that.”

“......”

After that, we hurriedly changed the subject and killed time talking about this and that, and about twenty minutes later we went down to the kitchen.

The moment we went down, the rich smell of food spread. On a long table set along one side of the living room, there was roast chicken, grilled vegetables, cherries and tomatoes marinated in olive oil, and a neatly arranged cheese platter.

More than anything, what stood out was the wine decanter placed in the center of the table. The red liquid glowed softly beneath candlelight, giving off a deep purplish hue.

“Sit down quickly.”

Chloe's mother offered me the head seat where Frederick sat. Chloe sat next to me, and across from us sat Chloe's mother and Brandon.

“Let’s eat.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

Maybe because Chloe’s mother was quite good at cooking, the food was very enjoyable.

“You studied farming very professionally?”

Frederick asked as he speared roast chicken with his fork and brought it to his mouth.

“I studied on my own.”

“To that extent on your own? Impressive. And you got into UC Davis?”

“Yes.”

“When I looked into Redwood Farm, I heard it suffered a major pest and disease outbreak last year... You took it over because you had that much confidence?”

“That’s right. Right now, I’m confident I’m growing them under better conditions than any farm in Napa Valley that grows Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Oh, really? And what are you going to do once you’ve grown it all? From what I hear from my daughter, since you mentioned cherry wine, does that mean you’re planning to make wine at your own winery instead of selling it?”

“Last year, I made vinegar with the leftover grapes that had low market value, and I made a pretty decent profit. Since wine prices aren’t great, I’m thinking of turning half into vinegar and making half into wine.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard. The vinegar is pretty popular?”

“Yes. I made 20,000 liters, supplied it mainly to Bristol Farms, and now my stock has run out, so I told them this year’s supply is closed.”

Frederick, impressed, looked at me with a meaningful gaze, then pointed to the decanter on the table and said,

“Now then, today I’ve prepared something especially good. Have you ever heard the name Château Margaux?”

I looked at the red liquid in the glass, then nodded.

“Yes, it’s a First Growth wine from the Médoc region of Bordeaux. I’ve heard it’s called an elegant wine.”

“Now that you’re an adult, it should be fine for you to have a glass, right?”

“Yes, please.”

Frederick poured the wine very skillfully. Since I was only twenty years old, I didn’t bother to sniff the aroma first or swirl the glass and make a show of it, and just took a sip.

In truth, even before my regression, I drank a lot of wine, but it was more for research than because I enjoyed it.

“It’s good.”

"What do you think?"

It felt like asking what kind of feeling it was, specifically, was close to a test.

“It isn’t heavy on tannins, so it’s smooth. The finish lingers for a long time, too.”

I didn’t go on some showy tangent here about violet aromas and cedar notes and all that. I thought it was enough to answer concisely with the feeling of the wine I’d just tasted.

“You felt it accurately. It’s one I like, but it’s a shame we can’t make it in California.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know why that is, by any chance?”

“A style like Château Margaux needs Bordeaux’s unique conditions: a stable climate, soil with good drainage but still holding minerals. California has strong sunlight and it’s dry, so even if you plant the same variety, the aromas get more intense and the alcohol content rises, so you don’t get this kind of feel.”

He looked at me with a face full of admiration.

“I once asked the exact same question to a wine expert, and that expert’s answer was exactly the same as yours.”

“I see.”

When I answered as if it were nothing special, he gave Chloe a look as if it were newly surprising, then asked me.

“You said you’re going to make cherry wine, right? Is two tons enough?”

"Actually, 20 tons is possible in scale, but there's no reason to be greedy. I was going to make it because it seemed like a waste to leave the winery idle until October."

“Have you decided what kind of wine you’ll make?”

He was asking about the concept of the wine.

“Rather than me deciding, it’s already more or less decided. Basically, Brentwood cherries get strong sun, so the juice concentrates, and at night the temperature drops sharply, so the acidity remains at a good level. So cherries grown in Brentwood have high sugar, but also a balanced acidity and aroma.”

“You know it well.”

“Brentwood cherries have a very bright, vivid aroma. That aroma has tones like red roses or cranberries, so if the fermentation goes well, that scent will carry over into the wine too. The sweetness will naturally drop, but... instead, the acidity will remain, so won’t it become a dry wine that still bursts with fruit aroma? That’s my prediction.”

It really was just a prediction, and I’d have to watch it ferment as I made it, but suddenly Frederick closed his eyes and murmured as if in admiration.

“A wine with a red ruby color... and when you bring the glass close, the scent of cherry blossoms and the juice of well-ripened cherries rises up. When you drink it, it’s refreshing at first, and afterward, a subtle spice-like finish lingers... That’s the kind of wine it’ll become.”

What is with this man?

“...... Th-that’s... probably right?”

“A wine that’s easy to drink, but doesn’t end as something merely light. A wine that makes anyone reach for a second glass.”

For a moment, I almost asked Chloe if her father happened to write poetry when he was young. Where does all this emotion come from...

Then Frederick opened his eyes and said,

“First, I’ll give you ten tons. Let’s try making it with that.”

“Huh? Ah, we aren’t prepared financially to go that far.”

I’d originally had a decent amount of money left from selling vinegar, but since I’d used it to pre-purchase Pinot Noir, the funds weren’t plentiful. Since the cherry wine was just something I was making because I didn’t want the winery sitting idle, I had no intention of pushing myself.

But then,

“Don’t worry. I’ll just give you the cherries.”

“You’ll just give them to me?”

“In return, let’s split the profit from the cherry wine fifty-fifty. If the quality of the wine that comes out this time is good, I’d like to seriously try a long-term deal using our cherries with you... What do you think?”

I stared at his face with a dumbfounded expression, then said,

“Let’s do fifty-fifty on the revenue the farm earns, excluding distribution costs.”

“Good. Deal.”

He lifted his wineglass, tapped it lightly against mine, and grinned.