Page 71 of The Last Resort
They are not the enemy, just the owners.
That’s her job.
Calm down. You are going to ruin everything with her.
He understood all of it, especially the bit about it being Rachel’s job to represent the Brock family. The thing which hurt the most was knowing Rachel was right. She was right about the need to start again. He was going to have to finally accept that his hotel and resort concept was never going to happen.
I hate it when other people are right, and I’m wrong.
His stubborn ego had seen him hold tightly to the dream of seeing his glass and steel design rise out of the ground. Of that giant glass pyramid glistening in the Colorado sun.
I’ve dreamt about it for such a long time.
Matthew punched the steering wheel one last time just for good measure, before climbing out of the car. He stood leaning against the hood of the Jeep vaguely watching various SUVs and trucks as they drew up or pulled away from the roadside.
People crossed the road and made their way into the old wooden store. When they returned it was usually with coffees and takeout food in hand. Everyone was smiling and laughing. It was obvious to even his angry mind that the local folks loved the place.
The triple storied log fronted building of the WoodyCreek general store gave off the same rustic vibe as the ski lodge. It might not be as old at the Green Tree Resort, but over the years thousands of happy customers must have passed through its doors.
Checking for traffic, Matthew ambled across the road and into the general store. As soon as he stepped inside, he got why this place made people smile. He wished he could bottle the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the place.If I could, I’d make a fortune.
“Good morning, what can I do for you this bright day?” asked the gray haired, craggy faced store keeper. The man looked like he had just stepped out of an old western movie. Though his Denver Broncos cap set him firmly in the modern world.
“A large take-out coffee please.” Matthew spied some freshly baked muffins on a nearby tray. “And two of those as well.”
Two.
“Make that two large take out coffees with cream, no sugar thanks.”
As the man set to work making the coffees, Matthew asked. “How long have you worked here?”
“Owned it for twenty-seven years. Rarely taken a day off in that time, though the wife talked me into a trip to Italy last year. That was pretty special.”
“Italy is a magical place. Does get a bit crowded in summer, mind you.”
He had many Italian cousins and knew the cities of Rome and Milan like the back of his hand. The beautiful family villa on the shores of the stunning Lake Como was where Bryce and Vivian were planning to hold their wedding.
“Yeah, Italy was great, especially Venice, but it was good to get home. They might have all the old buildings and history, but there is nothing like the Colorado mountains. Sowhat brings you all the way out here? You don’t look like you’re headed for the snow fields.”
Would you believe a temper tantrum?
“I’m working up in Aspen.” It would be easy to leave it at that, especially after what Rachel had said about the town not liking him or his plans. But if he was going to move forward with the project, he was going to have to make friends. “Actually, I’m looking to buy the Green Tree Resort and do something with it.”
The storekeeper’s brows furrowed. “Oh, right.”
Matthew held up a hand. “You can tell your friends, the plans to build the Death Star in the middle of the wilderness aren’t going to go ahead. I’m working with the owners to see what else we can do with the site.”
Two coffees and a paper bag were deposited on the counter in front of him. “I’m mighty glad to hear that. The folks around here are pretty keen to see the old building survive. It’s a landmark. Part of Pitkin County history, part of its soul.”
Matthew paid for his drinks and food, then headed back to the car. He turned the Jeep around and started the short drive home to the lodge. It was weird to think of the place as home, but he’d come to realize that’s what it was. Rachel being there made it even more like home.
Her earlier words, and that of the storekeeper had crystalized something which had been rolling around in his mind for some time.
He’d lost the Matthew Royal who’d been so passionate about design at university, and in doing so had become exactly the sort of heartless developer he’d always hated. Too focused on making the numbers work. He was past thirty. Jaded. And in grave danger of burning out.How did I get here?
Slowing the Jeep as he rounded the bend, Matthew took in the magical site of the stone ski lodge. The Woody Creekstorekeeper was right. Rachel was right.He had to come up with a solution that made this future development work, but in doing so allowed the grand old Green Tree Lodge to keep its soul.
“And I get to keep the girl.”
