Chapter 5 Cindy #2
Gracie came right back with his coffee, her eyes bright. “I really hope you two hit it off,” she said. “Henry might have some good ideas, Aunt Cindy. I hope it…well, I hope you agree.”
When she left, they looked at each other, both laughing at the awkward moment.
“I take it you’re not thinking about an investor?” he guessed.
“Not really.”
He smiled, lifting his mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to new solutions to old problems.”
He held her gaze with a glimmer in his eyes and, she couldn’t help noticing, no ring on his left hand.
Cindy just answered with her own smile, sipping her coffee and letting him lead the conversation.
“So,” he said, bracing his elbows on the tabletop. “You need money.”
She laughed. “That’s an auspicious opening.”
“Not for me,” he replied. “I’m an investor. And I invest in properties exactly like yours.”
Easing back, she took a slow breath, sensing she’d need her wits about her for this conversation. “How much has Gracie told you?” she asked.
“Enough for me to know that Snowberry Lodge has been in your family for generations,” he said. “And you’d very much like to keep it that way. I can help you.”
She nodded, purposely not adding to that.
“Like I said, I visited yesterday.”
“You should have introduced yourself,” she said, keeping her voice warm so it didn’t sound accusatory. “I would have loved to have shown you around.”
“I’ll come back,” he said easily. “But I wanted to meet you on neutral ground first, and find out what you need, exactly.”
Where did she start? “I need more guests than I have now,” she said, opting for honesty over any witty comebacks. “We’re running at a…lower than normal capacity, and that’s odd for December.”
“Do you know why?”
“Two words: Grand Hyatt.”
He nodded but looked skeptical.
“Do you know why?” she countered.
“I invest in high-velocity hospitality zones—locations where space is finite, demand is infinite, and timing is everything.”
She lifted her brows at the smooth description. “My sister and I own a hundred-year-old lodge with more original plumbing than I care to admit. I don’t think it’s the same business model.”
“I do,” he countered. “Park City is high-velocity and Snowberry Lodge is situated on a spot that, well, God’s just not making any more land like that. And you have something very few properties on this mountain or in these canyons have or can ever offer.”
“Unobstructed views?” she guessed, suspecting he didn’t really know how many places had great views.
“Authentic, heartbreaking, impossible-to-find charm.”
She let out a sigh. “You sound like my sister,” she said.
“She believes that’s enough to fill the beds.
I’m not sure I agree. Tourism is changing and people want contemporary ambiance and modern conveniences.
They want ease and flash and hot tubs with cocktail service. That’s not what Snowberry offers.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully, considering her words. “I look for places with soul, Cindy,” he said. “And I invest in them, and step back, allowing the owners to do whatever it was they’ve always done to maintain that soul.”
“I like the sound of that,” she admitted. “And you saw…soul at Snowberry?”
He chuckled. “Oodles of it. From the rooflines to the stone stairs. The cabins are precious, the stables are quaint, and the lodge itself looks like a Hallmark movie.”
“Well, don’t look too closely. The roof leaks, the stone stairs are cracked, the cabins need insulation, and no one is filming any movies at Snowberry.” She sipped her coffee. “But I like that you see what we love about it.”
He leaned in. “All that needs to be fixed is money,” he said. “And that’s what I can give you. I keep a small portfolio and work closely with the owners. I don’t believe in modernizing a classic—I believe in enhancing it.”
“And you want to invest in Snowberry?” she asked, hating that hope rose in her.
He smiled. “If you’re open to it. I’d be willing to put in two-hundred-fifty thousand for renovations and upgrades in exchange for a small percentage of revenue. Not ownership. Not even partnership. Just a percentage.”
Two hundred and…what? Cindy blinked, not hearing much of anything after that.
She let the number settle on her, suddenly imagining everything fixed, upgraded, and improved. There would be money to spare to pay the yearly tax bills. That wouldn’t get them on the lift line, but if they had a beautiful warm bus instead of an old van…
“How small a percentage?” she asked, her voice thick.
“We’ll work out the details.” He flicked his hand. “Nothing that would impact your life.”
But everything he said would impact her life. In a very good way. Two hundred and fifty thousand? “It would…change my life.”
“I don’t want to change your life, Cindy,” he said with a warm smile. “I want to make it better. You talk to your sister—I understand Gracie’s mother is your partner? No, um, husband to join in the decision-making?”
He sounded a little hopeful, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. Hopeful he didn’t have to contend with another opinion or…something else?
“I’m divorced,” she said.
“Same,” he replied. “Eight years. How many for you?”
“Ten.” She searched his face, wondering about the woman he’d married…and divorced.
“It’s hard,” he said softly. “People talk about divorce so casually, but it’s like a death. Grief lasts a long time. At least it did for me,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if it was the same for you.”
The same? She was still grieving the loss of Jack Kessler. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted.
“You ever consider remarrying?” he asked.
“Too busy,” she replied. “Also, too old.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You are not. But I get the busy. Sometimes I think I just worked really hard to fill the dead space.”
“Do you have kids?” She didn’t know why she was asking personal questions, but she was curious.
“I have two sons,” he said. “One is close and does a lot of business with me. The other is…estranged.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That has to be difficult.”
He gave a tight smile. “I keep hoping, but…we’ll see.” He shifted in his seat. “Tell me more about the lodge.”
“I suppose you want to know fixed operating expenses, overhead, variable per room costs. That kind of thing.”
“Someday I will,” he said. “But now, I’d like to know the history, and how it got so charming. Tell me about your grandparents, and your father. The reason people come and why they stay. The legends, the ghost stories, the famous guests, and what makes the place…sticky.”
“Sticky?” She drew back, not expecting to be asked about any of that. “My sister’s overuse of bacon fat makes it sticky.”
He laughed. “I mean what keeps people coming back. Obviously, the food’s good.”
“The food’s amazing,” she said. “The staff is small—just Nina and Pedro, a wonderful couple who have worked for us for seven or eight years. They keep the place clean and running in tip-top shape. I think they’ll want to retire soon, so there’s that issue.
What else did you ask? Legends? Well, during the 2002 Olympics, Bode Miller stayed at Snowberry Lodge, but he and my ex-husband were friends. ”
He lifted a brow. “Really?”
“Jack, my ex, was an Olympic-level skier. Bode was probably our most famous guest. Ghosts? None that I know of, but lots of folks who stay in Cabin Four say they hear singing in the middle of the night.” She gave a conspiratorial smile. “I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s the water heater.”
He chuckled, and with each passing moment, she grew more relaxed. Could this guy be for real? Could he truly have that kind of cash to give Snowberry?
Well, not give. Invest. She couldn’t forget that this money wasn’t free.
He asked more questions, told her a little bit about himself and where some of his other investments were in Utah and other places in the West, talking until their coffee grew cold.
Finally, they both leaned back for a mutual and comfortable goodbye.
“I’d love to visit the lodge again,” he said as they stood. “Can I call you?” He handed her his cell phone. “Just type in your number.”
She looked down, forced her aging eyes to focus, and saw “Cindy at Snowberry” on a white screen. It seemed harmless and sweet, plus Gracie knew him. She could show him the lodge again, couldn’t she? That wasn’t…committing.
She typed in her number and handed the phone back to him, their hands brushing.
The reaction that Cindy felt was all too real and, once again, familiar.
“You remind me of someone,” she confessed, now comfortable enough to say that to him. “Are you sure we’ve never met?”
“I would remember,” he said with just a sweet enough smile to make her feel…seen. “I’ll call you, Cindy.”
When was the last time a man said those words to her? Well, probably after her last fight with the county inspector over that roofing permit. The roof that would have to be replaced…with money she didn’t have.
But Henry Lassiter did.
They said goodbye, but she lingered, hoping to talk to Gracie. Looking in the back, she saw her niece was meeting with a couple about a wedding cake.
When she caught her eye, she gave Gracie a wave and a thumb’s up, then headed out with a bounce in her step. Maybe things were turning around. Maybe they wouldn’t have to sell, just…get an investor. And a good-looking one at that.
On the drive home, she got a call from her bedding supplier—prices were going up in January—and another from a travel agent who was supposed to bring in a ski tour but had to pull out.
Dang it all, she thought as she turned into the long drive at Snowberry Lodge. She’d never needed that two hundred and fifty more than right now.
Stepping inside the back kitchen door, she got a whiff of that very bacon her sister loved as she kicked off her boots in the mudroom.
“Hello?” she called.
Benny came running into the kitchen, sock-sliding at the mudroom door. “Did you know I have an Uncle Jack?”
She looked up from her boot, a little surprised that would be news to Benny, who picked up every nuance of every conversation. “Yes. Why?”
“He’s here!”
Cindy froze. “What?”
She looked right over Benny’s shoulder, and there stood the man she’d once promised to love, honor, and cherish till death parted them. She blinked, her head suddenly light, her heart dropping to the floor, and her brain registering one insane thought.
Jack. That’s who Henry Lassiter reminded her of. Confident, handsome, look-right-into-your-soul Flying Jack Kessler.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked.
“Nicole convinced me to come back for a month and run the sleigh rides.”
She stared at him, nothing making sense or registering. Nicole…did…what?
He took a step closer. “I know you’re in a bind, Cin. And I’m here to help.”
For a moment, she couldn’t hear or think or breathe. All she could do was look up at a man she’d once loved so much it physically hurt.
“I can run the sleigh rides and we’ll pack this place with happy guests and paying passengers, enough to save your December and cover that tax bill.” After a beat of silence, he dipped a little lower and she could have sworn he was going to kiss her. “Is that okay?”
What could she say? No? And why did every cell in her body just melt like a snowflake on sun-warmed stone? “That’s…that’s…”
“A great idea, right, Mom?” Nicole swept in, her dark eyes glinting with hope and…mostly just hope. Hope that she would agree to this wild and wrong and…wonderful idea.
Cindy nodded and managed a deep breath. “It really is,” she whispered.
And, oddly enough, she meant it.