Chapter 1 Cindy #2
“They just went into the great room to set up Monopoly by the fire,” Gracie assured her, stepping closer to the group as she gathered up some of her hair like the strawberry blond waves were as heavy on her shoulders as this news. “Is it that bad, Aunt Cindy?”
Cindy nodded and put her hand on MJ’s back, softening her voice because she knew this was a tough blow.
“Unless something major changes, we’ll wipe out our working capital paying this tax bill. We can delay and dance around it, but that means we’ll get hit with all kinds of late charges and fees and interest. But if we sold—”
“Stop!” MJ’s eyes flashed like gas flames on her beloved old stove. “No one but a Starling has ever owned Snowberry Lodge, or any of the twenty-five acres it sits on,” she said on a ragged whisper. “Our married last names might be different, but we are Starlings just the same.”
“I know that,” Cindy said, staying steady.
“But the reason we get taxed from here to kingdom come is because we own some of the most valuable real estate in Utah. In the whole country! But the lodge and cabins are…” She winced, stating the obvious truth.
“They just aren’t up to the standards of what guests demand these days.
Everything needs work and improvements. We could do some over the summer, but we’d need cash that we just don’t have. ”
“But we own Snowberry Lodge free and clear!” MJ exclaimed. “How can there be a money problem?”
She loved MJ more than life itself, but her sister focused on the esoteric aspects of the lodge—food, fun, the atmosphere and decorations. And no one did it better.
MJ didn’t really grasp the finances involved in the management of a mountain lodge open for four seasons. The salaries, maintenance, insurance, supplies, overhead, utilities, food and beverage ran many, many thousands a month.
Without full occupancy, they did not make a profit.
Cindy didn’t want to utterly wreck Thanksgiving by whipping out a spreadsheet to walk them through the operating budget. “Believe me when I say we’re in the deep, deep red. And now we have to pay this astronomical tax bill. I really thought the end-of-year reservations would be higher, but—”
MJ just shook her head, making more hair slip over her cheeks, not hearing one word.
“Snowberry Lodge has been in our family since our grandfather built it more than a hundred years ago, and our girls will inherit it,” MJ insisted. “That isn’t going to change, Cindy. It can’t. I…I don’t know how I could ever sleep at night if it did.”
“I’m not worried about my inheritance,” Nicole said. “But I don’t want to give up the ski shed. I’ve killed myself to build that business.”
“I know you have, Nic,” Cindy said. Her daughter had turned the ski sales and rental shop at the front of the property into a fine little retail establishment, like Gracie had done with Sugarfall, her bakery in town. “And if we sold, maybe you could keep that business.”
“And maybe we could just solve the problem another way,” MJ said, crossing her arms. “Nic, you run a fire sale this week. It’s Black Friday tomorrow.
Let’s turn it into ‘Get into the Black’ Friday.
And Gracie?” She turned to her daughter.
“Why don’t you do a month-long bake-a-thon right here at Snowberry?
Or we can run a big promotion for locals that you can advertise in the bakery.
And…and…I’ll…” She looked from one to the other, her whole face falling as they stared at her, silent. “Sell? It’s unthinkable, Cin.”
Cindy pressed her hand into her sister’s narrow, but oh so sturdy, shoulder—the one they all leaned on no matter what was happening.
“I agree with you, and I’m sorry to have to even dance around the idea. But with the Grand Hyatt opening?” Cindy groaned. “We’re doomed.”
“I hate that word,” MJ said.
“Doomed or Hyatt?” Gracie asked dryly.
“Both,” MJ scoffed. “Look, we’ve had thin years before. We always find a way to reinvigorate Snowberry Lodge. From the day Grandpa Owen brilliantly turned a little horse farm in a mining community into a ski lodge.”
“That was the 1960s and he saw the changes coming to Park City,” Cindy said.
“And then twenty years later, Dad built the cabins and turned the barn into a gear shed for sales and rentals,” MJ continued, undaunted. “That put Snowberry on the map.”
Cindy sighed. “The map has changed.”
“And then Dad’s red hair turned white and the man who’d been called ‘Red’ his whole life suddenly became the embodiment of Santa Claus, and we were a Christmas destination.
” She was on a roll now. “And then Jack started the sleigh rides! We literally had a waiting list for this place by June of every year.”
“Well, Jack moved to Vermont,” Cindy said softly, still hating that particular loss in her life. “So, no one is here to do the sleigh rides and, let’s be honest, Red hates being Santa. He won’t admit it, but at eighty-two? Our father has had enough with the kids and their demands.”
“But he does it,” MJ said. “All I’m saying is every single time we’ve had to, we’ve reinvented Snowberry Lodge and refused to buckle to change. So, girls…” She looked at Gracie and Nicole. “Let’s put on those thinking caps and come up with something.”
“Nothing’s going to change the situation with the Grand Hyatt,” Cindy said, loving MJ’s enthusiasm but exasperated with her refusal to face facts. “Deer Valley expanded and that hotel opened right smack dab in the middle of the new lift lines.”
“You can see some lifts from here.” MJ pointed out to the window.
“But you can’t get on one unless you fly,” Cindy replied.
“And who is going to choose a weathered, dated lodge that requires a van shuttle to the ski resorts? A Grand Hyatt guest can literally grab a gondola to the summit easier than a taxi in the front lobby. And that’s after you’ve had a massage at their new spa wing. ”
“I’ll tell you who,” MJ said. “People who don’t want to pay twenty bucks for a cup of cocoa and don’t need a massage and don’t mind a nice little shuttle ride.
People who like rustic and real, who come to Park City instead of Aspen.
I know these people.” She gestured to a long open shelf near the mudroom lined with at least a dozen photo albums.
Inside those albums were hundreds of Polaroids of Snowberry’s guests, with notes about what they liked and memories of their stay.
“I remember every person who’s ever stayed here, and I know something about them, so when they come back, they’re family. Do they get that at the Hyatt?”
“They get other things,” Gracie said gently, stepping closer to her mother. “Aunt Cindy’s right, Mom. Every new customer I have at Sugarfall seems to be staying at the Grand Hyatt. Or one of the five zillion new townhouses or those high-end rentals that came on the market this year.”
“We’ve always competed with the big hotels and new builds,” MJ insisted, her voice nearly cracking with frustration. “We just need something to bring people back again.”
“We need it now,” Cindy added. “If we could book this place up from now to January and charge top dollar? I could pay the tax bill. But even then, we’ll just face the same thing next year.”
“Mommy!” Benny shot into the kitchen, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. His sweet ten-year-old face was flushed from the sugary dessert, his glasses askew from the excitement of it all. “We’ve got the Monopoly board set up. Grandpa and I are going to be a team and win!”
“I’m sure you will,” Gracie said to her son, who was never far from his beloved great-grandfather. “Nicole and I will be there in one minute and we will not accept defeat!”
“Are you going to play, Grandma?” he asked MJ. “And Aunt Cindy? Then we’d have three teams.”
“After we clean up, honey,” MJ said. “You play our turns until we get there.”
When he left, Gracie leaned in and reached for MJ’s hands. “Mom, I promise we’ll all put our minds to trying to find a solution. I don’t know what I can do from the bakery, but I talk to a lot of people.”
“And I’ll come up with some way to get more customers in the ski shed and shop,” Nicole added. “I know it’s a separate business, but it helps Snowberry’s bottom line.”
“Honey, you’re going to be in Vermont,” Cindy reminded her.
“I’m not leaving until Saturday, and I won’t be gone long. And Aunt MJ mentioned the sleigh rides. If we can’t do them, why don’t I at least pull the sleigh out of the stables and drape it in lights tomorrow? That’ll definitely attract people from the street.”
“And freak out poor Copper,” Cindy said. “He’s never liked that sleigh.”
“Because he slid off the trail the very first time Dad and I hitched him to it,” Nicole said. “But without Jack Kessler, no one’s giving sleigh rides.”
At the second mention of her ex-husband and Nicole’s father, Cindy gave a sad smile. Certainly no one was giving rides the way he had—with style, grace, and a full Victorian Christmas caroler costume.
She covered the moment of sadness by waving Nicole and Gracie out of the kitchen. “Go play Monopoly, and don’t let those two win. And you’re right,” she said. “We’ll think of ideas and not give up yet.”
“Let us help you clean up,” Gracie said, but MJ nudged her away.
“Don’t mess with tradition,” she said. “Aunt Cindy and I have been the Thanksgiving clean-up crew for fifty years.” She added a playful look at Cindy. “And if I have my way, we’ll be the clean-up crew for…a few more. Not fifty, but a few.”
The girls smiled and blew kisses, heading to the main gathering room at the front of the lodge, where Cindy knew the fire was crackling and the snow could be seen out all the windows.
After a beat, Cindy went back to drying a pan and MJ reached for a crystal wine glass. As she rinsed the stemmed goblet, she exhaled.
“These were Grandma Irene’s,” she said, holding up the cut glass to the light. “They’ve been in the Starling family forever.”