Page 11 of The Last Resort
Slipping her arm out of her sister’s embrace, Rachel limped a step forward. Her gaze lifted upward as she took in the cavernous space. Above her soared a majestic wooden ceiling, carved with dozens of images depicting native animals and trees. In the center was a life-sized representation of a large bear.
I forgot they had bears in Aspen. That one is huge.
The floor under her boot chains crunched as she moved, and Rachel looked down. Scattered about the lobby were bits of broken plaster and shards of cracked glass. Her attention snapped back to the ceiling overhead, and Rachel scanned for obvious signs of decay. The grand old ski resort was crumbling, but where?
“Where has all this broken stuff come from?” Her question died on her lips as Dan produced a couple of vapes and tossed them casually onto the floor.That’s strange.“I didn’t know you used them, Dan.”
He met her gaze. “I don’t. Horrible things, just as bad as cigarettes, but the empty cases serve a purpose.”
Resting his hands on his hips he stood silent for a moment. When his teeth scraped over his bottom lip, she sensed he was unsure as to what to say next. Unsure whether or not to trust her.That’s ironic.
Dan eventually cleared his throat. “The broken bits and pieces, along with the empty vapes, are designed to make the place look unattractive. To scare potential buyers away.”
“But I thought your parents wanted to sell the resort?”
“They do. But the only people who have shown any sort of interest in the past couple of years are not the kind of people we want taking over this place. One of the big hotel conglomerates keeps sniffing around, but my parents don’twant to meet with them. They’re worried that if they did sell to them, the second those folks got close of escrow, they’d be bringing in the wrecking ball.”
He made a grand sweeping motion with his right arm as he spun on his heel. “We want someone to take this forgotten lady by the hand and lead her to the cocktail hour. My grandfather gave up his vision for this place as his health declined. My parents are not interested in sinking huge sums of time and money into a major renovation. So the Green Tree has to go. But we want it to go to the right people.”
Dan took a step toward Rachel. “The next town-planning meeting is scheduled for early April. If the only people who turn up with a proposal are the fancy pants,bulldozer buyers, we might be forced to let the lodge go. The local council is losing patience with the long delay over the future of the Green Tree Resort. But if someone could come up with a viable proposition that would save the site, we might avoid being pressured into selling to the sort of people who stalk Facebook Marketplace and make low-ball offers.” He nodded at her. “That someone hopefully is you.”
The architect part of Rachel’s brain kicked into high gear. Her thoughts were a flood of possibilities, but all flowed from the one source. Keeping the main lodge building intact.
If she could show the Aspen city council a 3D virtual model of the current building—coupled with a number of suggested re-designs—she might be able to convince them and the local townspeople that it was in their best interests to make the sale of the site, conditional upon keeping as much of the existing ski lodge buildings as possible.
And in doing that, they would be able to see off any potential buyers who didn’t really give a damn about Aspen.
Making sure that only the right people are allowed to take on and redevelop this site. That should be the mission.
Kellie cleared her throat. “Rachel, the lodge is part of ourfamily, which is why we want you involved. Family saving family.”
The word family had her swallowing down a lump of emotion. They were asking a lot, but in return what they were offering her was priceless.
“I can’t make any promises, but let’s take a closer look at the building. Then I’ll let you know whether I think I can do anything to save it.”
For the better part of the next hour, Dan led them on a guided tour of the lobby and most of the first floor. Rachel’s keen eye missed little. It soon became apparent that there was more than just thepretend damageon the surface of the floor. There were real signs of ageing. The boarded-up broken windows hadn’t been able to keep the elements and trespassers out.
There were places where water had got in and caused damage. Brown streaks ran down the cream painted walls and gathered in ringed circles at the bottom.
Rachel squinted up the ceiling. “How bad is the roof? I mean, I can see where water has leaked through sometime in the past, but nothing appears too recent.”
“The ice sitting on the roof hasn’t melted yet, but if last spring was any indication, come late May this entire first floor will be covered with dirty water. I can’t say much about the roof, or whether it needs replacing. The good news is that there are some parts of the resort that are still intact. Habitable,” replied Dan.
“Habitable? Who would want to come and live out here?”
This place was miles from town. Remote. Her cell phone barely had one bar, and that kept flitting in and out.
Kellie pointed upward. “On the second floor, a couple of the grand suites have been declared safe by our construction inspectors. We have a security guard come and live onsiteduring the summer to stop day trippers and tourists from wandering about the place.”
Old, abandoned buildings were always attractive. They were also potential hazards and insurance premium nightmares. One of Rachel’s potential redevelopment projects in Atlanta had come to a halt when squatters had moved in and burned the post-civil war era building to the ground.
She was torn. Dan’s grandfather might have lost his passion for the ski lodge, but Rachel suspected it wasn’t just due to his old age. He’d been right about the place becoming a money pit. Everywhere she looked she saw dollar signs. The Green Tree Resort would cost many millions to bring it back to life.
But should money be the only thing we consider when it comes to saving or condemning a building?
She wasn’t naïve; money usually spoke loudest. But she was still determined to have as many of the facts as she could get at her disposal, before deciding on what to do, on whether to throw her lot in and try to salvage the lodge.
“Just how bad is the rest of the weathering around the building? What about the substructure—are we looking at rotting timbers? And is the lodge sinking in places? I need you to be brutally honest with me. What are the chances that she can be saved?”
