2. Miles
2
MILES
D reary, late winter clouds hung low over the city, obscuring my view. Instead of sparkling diamond walls of glass towers, all I saw was bleakness and gray and dead. I didn’t expect the weather to reflect my mood so perfectly, but it did. Any minute, I anticipated storm clouds to roll in. My temper was rising, and my mood was not improving.
I spun on my heel and turned my attention to the small team of men sitting around in my office. I let my disappointed glare rest on each of them, one by one, not saying anything until I was certain they felt the weight of my wrath before shifting my vitriol to the next victim.
I let my glare burn into Jackson Philips the longest of all.
“Explain to me like I’m four. How was it that you were unable to secure even a meeting with the owner of the hotel? What the hell was it called?” I paused and checked the notes scattered across my desk. “Sweet Mountain Inn. That should have been a no-brainer.”
Jackson shrugged. “She’s a viper, Miles. She attacked me before I even got a word out.”
“I thought you reviewed public records on that property. The owner just died, right?”
He nodded.
“And you said it’s in bad shape?”
“The whole town is in bad shape,” Diego offered.
I shot him a second glare. His information wasn’t lending any assistance to this situation.
“We have a run-down hotel in an economically struggling town, and you let some kid intimidate you?” I tapped the notes on my desk. “It says here the property was inherited by a twenty-four-year-old. Did you do a background check on the kid?”
Jackson released a long breath. “She’s not exactly a kid, and yes, I had her checked out. Just like I had the library checked out. The library is private property leased to the city for something ridiculous like a dollar a year. I’m not sure what the legal technicalities are there. The best I could find is that the librarian is the owner in name only, family property, but the city runs and maintains it. It’s an old house with some expansion work on it. These properties are in the hands of the next generation.”
“Exactly!” I held my hand out, fingers wide, palm up. He hit the nail on the head with that call. “Show me a kid who isn’t itching to get some money in their pocket and a ticket out of the podunk town they grew up in.”
“These young people aren’t letting go of the properties. Maybe if they were townies with nothing going for them, but these young women aren’t what you’re picturing,” Jackson said. “They are smart. They have determination.”
“Are you saying I don’t understand the need to escape the backward-thinking restraints of a small town?”
“No, Miles, we all know you came from a small Midwest town,” he said.
“Damn straight, I did. Day after high school graduation, I got on a Greyhound bus out of town and never looked back. Towns like that suffocate young adults.” I knew I hadn’t felt like I could properly breathe until I had gotten out of the clutches of that crossroads locals called a town. I hadn’t felt like I belonged in my own skin until I stepped foot in a proper city. I didn’t understand why anyone would want to get out of the city and head into the wilds, or near wilds, for rest and relaxation.
It never made sense to me. The city had art and music and things to keep a person busy. Maybe I had spent more than enough time in my youth with idle hands to not see the appeal. I didn’t have to understand the why to know it was a lucrative market.
“Offer them more money,” I said.
“Can’t offer money if they aren’t willing to speak with any of us,” Jackson muttered.
“We get it, you failed,” I said. “How about the rest of you? Diego?”
He showed his teeth in a grimace. “It’s a tough town. I canvassed the neighborhood to the east of the downtown area. That’s our target area. There isn’t much neighborhood in that area. Mostly abandoned industrial from way back. There is some housing, a blend of retirees and older families with kids in high school or college. I didn’t meet with the same hostility as Jackson, but no one seemed interested—or at least they hadn’t thought about the prospect of selling. I think I made some decent contacts.” He finished with a tilt of his head.
A growl of frustration parked itself in my throat. “Somebody give me better news. I need something we can work with.”
“County records are going to be easy. Once we get titles on the properties, as long as we are not going in for mineral rights, rezoning for hospitality should be a breeze. The clerk I was dealing with” —Harris checked something on his phone— “Crystal Collier, said that the area was a tourist hotspot a long time ago. Lots of trails and skiing in the winter. So the location is prime.”
“How old is this contact in county records? Could you potentially seduce some title changes and zoning records out of her?”
Harris groaned. “Definitely not. She’s my grandmother’s age.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of a MILF? Let her bake you some cookies, let her know you’re interested in more than baked goods,” I said. “We need more wins with this one. Thus far, I am far from impressed with what you’ve been telling me.”
He let out a half-assed chuckle. “MILF, yes, but not a granny. And that’s a hard no from me. If you want to seduce the older women of Brookdale, have at it.”
“Have you checked the place out?” Diego asked.
“No, why?” I didn’t need to see the town to know what it was going to be like. The downtown area would be half empty, most stores having been replaced with one of those super center box stores closer to the freeway. What businesses that were left would either be perpetually going out of business or be old mom- and pop-run services that no one really used anymore, a drycleaners or shoe repair shop.
There would be one of those grocery stores where the food always looked questionable and probably expired. The inn was probably one of those nineteen sixties’ cinderblock constructions with rotting out stairs. I could picture the owner, some skinny, drugged out loser without any business sense. She should be jumping at the chance to sell off. She could buy more drugs.
“Once the locals realize how beneficial this resort will be for the town, I expect a complete change of attitude. Make sure you are selling them on the benefits of bringing in tourist dollars every time you talk to them. The sooner we can break ground, the sooner they’ll have jobs for their kids and people for their restaurants. There are restaurants in this town, right?” I scanned the group looking for answers.
“The diner is passable,” Harris said.
“You ate there? That place looked like it was held together with roaches and stale smoke,” Jackson said with a chuckle.
“It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even get indigestion. The coffee was decent.”
“You call that decent? It was the only coffee in town. It was barely better than motor oil,” Diego said.
“I want actual results the next time you head back there. Diego, secure those abandoned industrial properties. Jackson, stop running away from little girls. Harris, screw your county records grandma or don’t, but get me results. I want to know we can get demolition equipment up there and get started sooner rather than later. I want to break ground before this summer rolls around. Brookdale doesn’t know it yet, but they are about to get a major facelift and become the poster child for Upstate tourist destinations.” With a clap of my hands, I ended the meeting and then I shooed everyone out of my office.
Diego and Jackson gave Harris a hard time about the diner. It sounded to me as if this town was almost too small for our new property. Of course, we would also be bringing in several destination restaurants. I had plans on a Michelin Star within the first year of opening our doors, and that meant attracting a renowned chef. A celebrity chef would be better from a marketing perspective, but those were conversations to start having once I had the land under contract.
Securing the purchase of a bunch of falling down buildings shouldn’t be this difficult. It felt almost as if my team wasn’t even trying. I would have gotten a meeting about, if not closed on, at least one property by now.
I hit the intercom to my assistant. “How far away is Brookdale?”
“According to the internet, it says it’s a four- to five-hour drive. So with traffic, make that six hours.”
I grumbled.
“The closest airport is Albany, and you could get a rental from there.“
“Do it. I want to go see what’s so challenging about this little town for myself,” I said.
“Sure thing. Did you have a timeline in mind? You have meetings on Thursday, but next Tuesday is clear, and your Wednesday is virtual, so you can take that call from anywhere.”
“Next week is soon enough.” I ended the call. Next week was more than soon enough. I was not a fan of small towns and avoided them as a point of principle. This was not a pleasure trip. The sooner I could get there and back, the better.