September 29, 1991, Sunday, Morning.
Satsuki was woken up by a headache.
Outside her eyelids was a blinding white light, so bright that she didn't want to open her eyes at all.
Her mouth was dry and astringent, and the root of her tongue still retained a trace of indescribable sourness, mixed with an astringent taste like grape skin, which she couldn't swallow no matter how hard she tried.
...What time is it?
She wanted to turn over, bury her face in the pillow, and avoid that patch of light.
But as soon as she moved her head half an inch, her temples throbbed fiercely, and even the back of her eye sockets swelled with soreness.
Having no other choice, she gave up, covered her forehead, and slowly sat up from the bed.
Her hair was draped messily over her shoulders, with a few strands stuck to her cheeks. Her pajamas had been changed, but she couldn't remember when they were changed at all.
At this moment, the door was gently pushed open, and Chizuru walked in carrying a tray.
"Good morning, Young Mistress."
Satsuki rubbed her eyes and looked toward the door.
That side was facing the window, and against the backlight, only a vague outline could be seen. After looking at it for several seconds, she slowly recognized it.
"...It's Chizuru."
"It's me."
Chizuru walked to the bedside and placed the tray on the nightstand.
"It's 7:40 now, and we still have more than an hour before departure, so you don't need to rush."
On the tray were a cup of warm water, two aspirin tablets, and a small steaming bowl.
Chizuru handed the water glass to her hand.
"Please take the medicine first."
Satsuki squinted her eyes, took the water glass, swallowed the pills with the water, and then lowered her head to glance at the bowl.
It was miso soup. At the bottom of the soup settled a few small clams, with a circle of light brown patterns along the edges of their shells.
"Where did this come from?"
"The miso was brought from Tokyo."
Chizuru pushed the bowl toward her hand.
"The clams were asked from the resort's kitchen. That chef from last night happened to be here this morning, saying they were dug from the southern beach, and the locals call them Pismo clams. He even helped me pick the smallest ones."
Satsuki picked up the bowl and took a sip.
The hot soup flowed down her throat, and the churning feeling in her stomach was finally suppressed a little. She took another sip, and her brain slowly cleared up along with it.
Yesterday's events began to float back one by one.
Straw hat, floral shirt, coconut, bay, red wine...
It seemed everything was going according to plan?
In fact, before climbing out of that car, she had already figured out how to make her entrance.
The trigger was a copy of the Los Angeles Times she flipped through in New York a few days ago.
That was a long article about the plight of Japanese companies in the United States.
The first half was piled with numbers and polls, and at the end, the author left a piece of advice for Japanese companies wanting to operate long-term in the United States:
"Forge partnerships with U.S. firms and develop good relations with American communities."
Form partnerships with American enterprises and get along well with American communities.
When she read this at that time, she even smiled a little.
Everyone understands the reasoning. But among ten Japanese companies, I'm afraid not a single one can actually do it.
Rockefeller Center, Columbia Pictures, plus Pebble Beach, which is only two or three hours' drive from here.
In the past two years, the Japanese in American newspapers were left with almost only one image: carrying a suitcase of yen, buying whatever they saw.
And California happened to be one of the places where Japanese capital entered most deeply.
Big cities were fine.
When it really came to such a small place that had lived on a military base for decades, a Japanese financial group suddenly popped up, saying it was ready to buy land, build factories, and even possibly take over some assets left behind by the U.S. Army in the future, it wouldn't be strange for people to feel uncomfortable.
Of course, these people's discomfort couldn't stop Saionji.
If they really invested a billion or tens of billions of dollars here, as long as the procedures in the county, state, and federal levels all went through, no matter how much the town residents disliked the Japanese, they couldn't stop the capital and factories from entering.
A few local residents disliking Japanese capital couldn't shake anything.
The problem was—
Why bother?
A company was going to stay in a place for ten, twenty years, or even longer, and the people who truly dealt with it every day were never just governors, congressmen, bankers, and county officials.
Landowners could stubbornly refuse to talk, communities could hold protest meetings every few days, planning hearings could be delayed again and again, and construction sites could receive a dozen noise complaints every day.
These people had no way to make a capital-rich large company disappear.
But if they collectively found you disagreeable, things would always be much more troublesome.
If the efficiency of the project looked ugly due to local emotional issues, Satsuki would be very unhappy.
In her past life, she had seen many such examples.
There were foreign companies building factories in the Midwest, and everything from the governor to congressmen had been negotiated, but as a result, people held up signs outside the construction site every day, dragging out the start of construction for more than a year.
When the factory finally went into production, locals still referred to it as "that foreigner's factory."
To truly take root in a place, it was not enough to just butter up the government and the capital circle.
Why force people to curse you while doing things for you, when you could make them happy to do things for you?
Therefore, from the moment she got off the car yesterday, she was very clear about what kind of first impression she wanted to leave.
Since she was bound to be regarded as "Japanese capital," she had to at least be the most likable Japanese capital they had ever seen.
In the future, when people in the town heard the three words "Saionji," they better first think of that Japanese girl wearing a straw hat, liking the beach here, and eating a whole bowl of pinquito beans down to the bottom.
And only then remember that it was a financial conglomerate from Tokyo.
Facts proved that the effect was very good.
Bud later even dared to speak ill of Winslow right in front of her.
When Doris chatted with her, she also lost the cautiousness she had at the beginning.
Even Glenn, who was obviously somewhat wary of Japanese capital, finally sat there and told her how much beef he had cut when he first ran for county supervisor.
And having said that, those things yesterday couldn't be entirely said to be faked either.
She really sat on that beach for a whole afternoon, and the beans were indeed delicious. She even wanted another bowl at that time, but she was too embarrassed to ask.
Bud's loud voice and Doris's serious jokes all made her find it very interesting.
She simply intentionally put her most approachable side at the very front.
So overall, the plan was still very successful.
It's just...
There was a slight accident.
Satsuki's hand holding the bowl stopped mid-air.
The price of regaining a clear head came, and last night's memories uncontrollably floated into her mind.
The drunk part was definitely not in the plan.
Although she didn't remember the details, she always felt she had done something very embarrassing.
In the end, she was still carried back by Chizuru...
Satsuki's ears turned red little by little.
In fact, last night she just hadn't drank American wine for a long time, and only intended to try it a little bit.
She put the bowl back on the tray, stared at the clams on the soup surface for a good while, and then muttered softly.
"Why on earth did he wave a bottle of wine in front of me for no reason..."
...
Wash up, have breakfast, change clothes.
What Chizuru prepared for her was a light-colored cotton shirt, a pair of khaki trousers, and a pair of flat soft leather loafers, convenient for walking on construction sites and dirt roads.
Satsuki sat in front of the mirror, and Chizuru stood behind her to tie her hair.
"The people coming today are more than Mr. Eden originally arranged."
"Hmm?"
"Mr. Winslow, the chairman of the county board of supervisors, has also come, and is downstairs right now."
Satsuki glanced at her from the mirror.
Winslow.
The culprit who made her drunk.
"In addition, there are people from the Army."
Chizuru wrapped a hair tie twice and tied her hair into a bundle.
"One is a colonel from the base garrison command, and the other is a civilian official from the Army Corps of Engineers, responsible for the real estate and handover after the base closes."
"The Army?"
"Mr. Hale called this morning, at which time you weren't awake yet."
Chizuru tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"He said he mentioned to a friend in Washington that you yourself had arrived here."
Satsuki smiled at the mirror.
"That means he asked the Army to send someone."
"Mr. Hale specifically stated that how the base is arranged is the Army's own decision."
"Hmm... indeed that has to be said."
Satsuki stood up and straightened the cuffs of her shirt.
"After all, logically speaking, Carlyle had no ability to make the Army decide whom to hand the base over to."
"However, when someone is needed, that person will stand right there."
Chizuru put the comb back on the table and thought for a moment.
"This is probably what Mr. Hale wanted you to see."
...
The people downstairs were indeed much more than yesterday evening.
Eden and Ray stood at the very front, both having changed into clothes convenient for walking.
Bud was still wearing that suit jacket from yesterday, the buttons still buttoned quite reluctantly. He stood a bit further away, talking about something with Glenn.
Parked next to them was a dark green military sedan, beside which stood a man and a woman.
The man was wearing the Army service uniform, with a colonel's eagle insignia on his shoulders. The woman was in her forties, wearing glasses, and holding two thick folders in her arms.
There was also an old man standing beside Ray.
Early sixties, not tall, tanned dark, wearing an old tweed jacket, with dried mud still on the edges of his boots. He gestured constantly when talking to Ray, and there was a circle of unwashable dark purple in the gaps of his fingernails.
Satsuki knew at a glance what that was.
Late September, exactly the grape harvesting season.
Seeing her come down, Ray hurried to welcome her by a couple of steps.
"Good morning, Miss Saionji. This is Harold Winslow, chairman of the county board of supervisors."
The old man stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Miss Saionji, welcome to San Luis Obispo County. On behalf of the county board of supervisors, I thank you for coming here in person."
"Mr. Winslow."
Satsuki shook his hand, followed by reciting his name, with a bit more smile in her eyes.
"Last night, I heard everyone mention you several times."
"Then I guess, not many good words."
Winslow glanced toward Bud's direction.
"Most likely that kid's good deeds at my sixtieth birthday party?"
"And the matter of him singing."
A few steps away, Bud was talking to Glenn. Hearing this sentence, his whole body stiffened, and he turned around and waved frantically toward this side.
Winslow ignored him completely, turned back, and the smile on his face deepened a bit more.
"By the way, Ray called me this morning, saying that after you finish looking at the land, you want to go to the vineyard for a stroll, and also want to order two boxes of wine to take back to your father."
Satsuki's smile stiffened for a moment, but she quickly recovered her naturalness relying on her profound thick-skinned skills.
"Yes, if it doesn't disturb your harvesting."
"Not at all, not at all."
The old man waved his hand, with undisguised pride in his tone, and then sighed.
"It's just a pity that you are not yet of age to drink. Those few barrels of wine of mine, I can only let you take a look."
"...Yeah, what a pity."
Satsuki nodded, with an expression of sincere regret.
Chizuru stood behind her, not saying a word.
Ray lowered his head and turned the folder in his hand back another page.
Winslow didn't notice these, patted his jacket pocket, where a section of a folded document was exposed.
The smile on his face slowly faded, and his tone also became solemn.
"However, Miss Saionji, I came over today not just for the vineyard."
"When Ray called me on Friday, I told him that things within his authority could be handled by himself, and whatever went beyond that would wait until the board of supervisors meeting next Tuesday."
"As a result, yesterday noon, a call from Sacramento hit my vineyard."
He glanced toward the military sedan.
"The governor's office asked me whether the people your county is entertaining this weekend are here to buy a few plots of land, or to move an entire set of industries over. I couldn't answer."
"An hour later, the base also called, saying someone from Washington had greeted them, wanting to send people to cooperate with the inspection."
"Only then did I realize that the little authority in Ray's hands probably wouldn't even last through this morning."
"So yesterday evening, I called back the other supervisors and held a special meeting."
Satsuki looked at him.
"And the result?"
"The result is that starting today, the county talking to you and Thomas about this project won't have to wait until next Tuesday."
Winslow patted his jacket pocket, where a section of a folded document was exposed.
"As for how to discuss it specifically, after looking at the land in a moment, I will explain it to you in detail."
At this time, that colonel also walked over.
"Miss Saionji, I am Colonel Daniel Reeves, belonging to the base garrison command."
He turned sideways to yield the person beside him.
"This is Ms. Carol Benson, belonging to the Real Estate Division of the Sacramento District of the Army Corps of Engineers. The disposal and handover of facilities after the base closes are handled by her side."
Ms. Benson freed one hand to shake hands with Satsuki, while her other hand still firmly held the two folders.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Saionji."
"As for the base facility conditions you want to understand today, within the scope of authority, we will try our best to answer."
"Railway branch lines, docks, warehousing, maintenance shops, and public facility interfaces—I have brought some of the materials."
"However, there is one thing I must make clear first."
Colonel Reeves took over the conversation with a very steady tone.
"How the base is ultimately disposed of must go through the procedures set by the Department of Defense and Congress. Anything Ms. Benson and I say here today does not represent a commitment."
"I understand."
Satsuki nodded.
"I just want to know what those things look like right now today."
The colonel glanced at her, and his expression relaxed a bit.
"Then we won't let you make this trip in vain."