Vintage Sterling
Mary Beth Walsh and Charles A. Witschorik
Vintage Sterling
Copyright © 2018 Mary Beth Walsh and Charles A. Witschorik. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.
Resource Publications
An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers
199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3
Eugene, OR 97401
www.wipfandstock.com
paperback isbn: 978-1-5326-4781-9
hardcover isbn: 978-1-5326-4782-6
ebook isbn: 978-1-5326-4783-3
Manufactured in the U.S.A.
This book is lovingly dedicated to our family and friends, who have inspired us, supported us, and walked alongside us on the journey.
Chapter 1
Sterling Sánchez knew he had this one in the bag. The night was cool and misty, and he’d had his usual round of drinks downtown. It was late and the alcohol was starting to work its magic. In others, it might have induced drowsiness or stupor, but not so for Sterling. He was a happy drunk, even a courageous one. Nothing like a couple drinks to take away the few inhibitions he had and send him headlong, laughing, into danger.
Tonight was no exception. Feeling no pain while barreling down the deserted, slippery road that lead from L.A. to his secluded rural estate, Sterling was in a mood to kick some ass! His wine-exporting business had never had such a year. A recession may have been gripping most of the country, but people still needed something to console them—a sentiment Sterling himself had affirmed that very day with the new luxury car he’d just bought with cash. Speeding him along the highway at ever greater speeds, it was a new acquisition—a proud addition to his collection of rare, classic BMWs. And now here he was tooling along in his new black beauty, without a care in the world. It seemed like everything he touched these days turned to gold. And he just couldn’t allow himself to even think about the bottom dropping out, even though his sixth sense was telling him something was off and doom was just around the corner. Ha, who gives a damn, he thought. I’m on top of the world. Really, who could possibly stop me?
Best of all, Sterling had all the women—and the woman- that he wanted. He was considered hot, he thought, by everyone he met. Standing just over six feet tall, with a trim, athletic build from years as an award-winning competitive swimmer, he was more than willing and able to hold his own in all areas of romantic warfare. His girlfriend, Tess, was a perfect physical match for him, with her raven hair and sleek, slender body. She was a safe bet, and he didn’t mind the security that their relationship brought. He could play around plenty and yet still head home to the safe haven of Tess’s arms. She’d been with him since they met in college and had continued with her career in physical therapy even after he’d made his first million. In many ways, Sterling didn’t understand why she stayed with him. His trips home were increasingly brief and he knew he wasn’t giving her the attention she longed for, and probably deserved. She said she loved him and would never leave him, but really he wasn’t too concerned even after what had transpired at tonight’s meeting. If she felt like staying, it was fine, but there certainly were others to turn to. Though he occasionally felt an ever-so-slight pang of remorse over Tess, Sterling enjoyed the thrill of the conquest. At work. On the road. And especially when it came to the ladies. There were many occasions and ample opportunities for adventure in the life of an unstoppable young impresario.
That night, in fact, Sterling had just come from a meeting with Tess and other important members of the board of his company, the eponymously named Sterling Enterprises, Inc. Having built the company from the ground up, Sterling was very proud of his achievement and of all the successes he had accumulated as CEO. The meeting that night had been typical of Sterling’s freewheeling-yet-focused approach. Gathering together a group of several dozen important stockholders, donors, and their entourages, Sterling had called the meeting to celebrate the company’s latest acquisition. Sterling, Inc. was by now a globally recognized brand, and as its chief executive, Sterling had important clout in the world of the most important vintners, restaurant entrepreneurs, and beverage companies. And yet for the longest time there had been one business he had set his sights on which had not been so easy to win over.
Belonging to his parents, the small-scale, local vineyard called Sánchez Vintage, located in northern California in the fertile, secluded hills of the Santa Cruz Mountains, just south of San Francisco, was a plum target. Sitting in a remote mountain valley, where he’d grown up, and enjoying some of the most favorable wine-making land and climate conditions, the Sánchez business had so much potential in Sterling’s mind. His parents, who had inherited the land from his father’s family, going back many generations in his Mexican-California family roots, had always seen their business on a local scale—more as a part of the community than as an enterprise with national or international ambitions. Sterling, at least at this new point in his career, saw things very differently. Here was a chance, he thought, to seize an amazing opportunity and incorporate the family business into a company he had already grown at a phenomenal pace. His parents had been against the idea from the beginning, not objecting to the choices he made with his own company, but wanting to stay true to their own approach to the life they’d always known. The “big bucks” and all that goes with that lifestyle was not something they ever wanted. They were simple folks with simple needs. Family and friends were more important to them than the things that money can buy. Certainly they appreciated making a good income that afforded them a comfortable way of life, but beyond that they didn’t want the hassle of what comes along with too much fortune.
Still, Sterling wasn’t one to take no for an answer. He’d begged and pleaded with them for long enough, and had finally decided to move things along in a way that would secure his objective. Maybe he would have preferred a different method, but he had to do what he had to do. At least that’s what had passed through Sterling’s mind once again earlier that evening as he surveyed the room back at work, taking in the sight of the guests at the party he had decided to throw, mingling, toasting, and congratulating him and the other board members at their newest acquisition. Cracking a smile with a clever smugness Sterling felt sure he’d earned, he was astonished as he looked out the window at the night sky and the parade of city lights below to see reflected in the glass panes the sight of the elevator door at the rear of the room open, and Tess walk out, staring him down with an expression he could detect, even through the dark reflection of the glass, was anything but happy or approving.
Turning around, Sterling barely had time to start uttering Tess’ name before she had made her way toward him, barely containing her unmistakable rage.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you selfish, self-centered jackass?” Tess managed to get out with an intensity that, though not yelling, telegraphed to all present that something was terribly wrong.
“I don’t know . . .” Sterling tried to get out a few words, but Tess was having none of it.
“Oh don’t even go there. Don’t even think about denying what’s going on. I mean, how could you take such advantage of them and of their trust in you? You know what that land, that place, and that business, mean to them. You know it’s
