Free Too Close to the Sun by Diana Dempsey Page B

meeting in the city.
Knowing a bit about Max's history, Will hadn't quite bought into
that line, but couldn't fathom another explanation for his
extraordinary absence.
    So , Will wondered, could it be Max
who wanted this meeting?
    Ava poked a key in the winery's big oak door,
which groaned open as if it were the entry to a medieval castle. "I
thought we'd talk in my office," she murmured, then led them
through the somnolent tank room—filled with enormous stainless
steel tanks that would be abuzz with fermenting activity in the
fall—and up some stairs to an office that Ava called her own but
that clearly had not been redone since her husband's day.
    It had the feel of a club room, Will thought,
and could not be more masculine. It was paneled in cherrywood, with
built-in shelves of the same rich material loaded with sports
trophies, framed photographs, and leather-bound volumes. An
imposing mahogany desk marred by only a few neat stacks of
paperwork sat atop an Oriental carpet, while two tartan sofas ate
up much of the remaining floor space. Roman shades half-drawn on
the large windows blocked the intense afternoon sun.
    The office said more eloquently than Ava
Winsted ever could that she did not intend to continue running
Suncrest. She had made no mark on her late husband's professional
domain, either because she couldn't bear to or because she didn't
expect to be around long enough to make it worthwhile.
    The housekeeper Will recognized from the
party bustled in with tea and scones, which she arranged on the low
table between the tartan sofas. All three sat while she poured. She
had barely exited before Ava got down to business.
    "I asked you here, Will, because I'd like you
to bring Max up to speed on our discussions regarding Suncrest."
Her gaze was steady. "I told him that your firm has made an offer
to buy the winery."
    "I'm certainly interested in hearing what you
have to say." Max smiled broadly. "But I have to tell you that I
agree with my mother on this. I have no interest in selling."
    Will tried to get a read on Max. He seemed
intelligent and charming enough, and certainly looked the part of
the well-bred heir. That didn't jibe, though, with Will's research,
which had produced a different picture—that of a restless,
self-indulgent youth who'd never shown more than mediocre ability
in the classroom or on the athletic field. He'd gotten into some
scrapes both in high school and at USC, where apparently he'd
majored in parties and minored in women.
    That wasn't indicative of much, though. Will
had always been straitlaced but many solid, highly successful
people had wild college careers on their resumes.
    Will launched into his spiel. "I must
compliment both of you on Suncrest," he told them. "It's in an
enviable position. The label is well-known and synonymous with
high-quality, high-end wines."
    Ava nodded. "That was always the niche Porter
envisioned for Suncrest."
    "And he made that vision a reality. It is
quite impressive to have remained competitive in that category for
so long." Will turned to Max, confident that for all his
apprenticing in France, Ava's son had only a rudimentary
understanding of the wine business. "My firm is interested in the
wine sector for a variety of reasons. As you well know, wine sales
have grown at double the rate of the economy since the 1980s."
    Max nodded sagely. "That's certainly
true."
    "In addition, the demographic trends are very
positive for premium wines. Ten thousand baby boomers turn fifty
every day and that will be true for the next dozen years. In short,
we view the wine business as an attractive area for
investment."
    "So do we!" Max laughed again, "That's why we
don't want to sell."
    Will leaned forward and set his elbows on his
knees, gearing up for the core of his pitch. "Your family has built
a tremendously successful winery, thanks to enormous effort,
persistence, and skill." He raised his head to catch Ava's eye.
"Yet I can imagine that you might be in a chapter