Page 13 of The Last Resort
Forty-five. Fifty. Fifty-two. The car shifted toward the middle of the road. He glanced at the speedometer.
Yeah, okay slow down, champ. This isn’t a Formula One track.
He’d just backed off on the gas when a large, green Ford Bronco suddenly appeared coming around the bend on the other side of the road. Matthew touched his foot to the brakes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “That could have been a close call.”
In his rear vision mirror the other vehicle disappeared from view.
Matthew turned the SUV into the side road which led up to the front entrance of the Green Tree Resort. As he did, a worrying thought dropped into his mind. There was nothingelse out here. Had the green SUV been coming out from the ski lodge? And if so, why were they at the abandoned site?
His rational self, told him it was likely just a local out for a quick peek, but his business brain sensed danger. Anyone showing an interest in the Green Tree Resort might pose a threat to his plans. A rival bid at this hour could present him with a whole new set of problems. The owners of the old lodge were hard enough to deal with, but if they had competing buyers …
“No. Don’t start thinking the worst. They were probably just out for a drive.”
The last thing I need is for someone to turn up to the council meeting and present competing plans to mine. I should call Mia and get her to do some checking, just in case.
Cell reception at the lodge site was sketchy at best. Some days he had clear signal, others he may as well have been on the moon. Thank heavens someone on the international board of the Royal family had noted this as a problem for future resort expansions. A couple of months ago the European side of the Royal family had launched a private communications satellite.
He pulled the car up in the parking lot and grabbed his cell. After logging into the satellite feed, he hit dial.Come on Mia answer.Her phone went straight to voicemail.She’s probably in a meeting.
“Hi, Mia. I’m sure I’m jumping at shadows, but I just saw an SUV coming out from the Green Tree Resort Road. The last thing I want is to get into the council meeting and discover that the Brocks have been talking to other parties behind my back. I might need you to do some quiet checking for me. Can you give me a call when you get a spare minute? Thanks.”
The Green Tree Resort. This place was going to either be the making of him or … no. No. He wasn’t going to entertain the idea of failure. But getting his assistant manager to make sure that no other bidders were lurking in the background would certainly help set his mind at ease.
That’s where Jordan went wrong, he refused to ask for help until it was too late.
This Aspen project was going to be the project which saw him take his rightful place as head of design and construction at Royal Resorts. His brother, Bryce, could have the CEO role and all the politics that came with it. Jordan could keep his specially created role of international ambassador for events.
I just want to create fantastic buildings. Build my own lasting legacy.
His gaze took in the main lodge building. It was a stone and wood palace in the wilderness of Colorado. And while the rest of the smaller buildings on the site were also solid—dare he say functional—it was the grand lodge building which shone as the jewel in the crown.
“And yet, I’m going to knock it down,” he muttered. Guilt over the fate of the lodge, nagged at him. Then again, one day in the future, someone would come along and do the exact same thing to his new design. Tear it all down. Hopefully, he wouldn’t still be around when that happened.
He loved the old building, it reminded him of the imposing stone Ahwahnee lodge in Yosemite National Park where his family had often stayed. A grand dame of a bygone era. Something to be treasured and preserved.
But after the accountants and the Royal Resorts board had gone over the numbers in great detail, he’d been told the business case for keeping the lodge couldn’t be supported. If he still wanted to go ahead with the project, he’d have to do it with a cleared development site. It was either that or the board was prepared to walk away.
I’ve no other choice.
Yeah right.
Tell yourself whatever lies you need to sleep at night.
His conscience had been nagging him nonstop since he’d accepted the board’s decision that once he had the contract settled, Royal Resorts would be sending in the bulldozers. Regret was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Alright, let’s get this done,” he muttered.
Grabbing a hard hat and a rolled-up copy of his design plans from the passenger seat, Matthew climbed out of the Jeep and headed toward the front steps of the lodge. The owners of the Green Tree Resort had sent him his own set of keys. At first, he’d been delighted to hear they had no issue with him coming and going, but every time he looked at the Spiderman key tag, he wondered if they were silently sending him shade.
Go play, little boy, but leave the final decision about the resort to the adults.
The Brocks had made it clear via their concisely worded emails that until he had a viable design proposal signed off by both his company board, and the planning committee of the Aspen city council, they had no interest whatsoever in meeting with him.
He was barely thirty, and over the past eighteen months had developed a distinct impression that the vendors viewed him as little more than a time wasting, tire-kicker rather than a serious buyer for the old lodge. His determination to manage this project on his own, without his father or older brother’s direct involvement, was both a blessing and a curse.
No doubt, if either Edward or Bryce Royal knocked on the front door of the Brock family home, they would have a signed contract of sale and a gentleman’s handshake in next to no time.
I have to do this on my own. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to establish my credentials as a capable resort-design executive.
