Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The Jeep Wrangler hugged the corners, its snow tires gripping tightly to the road. Matthew put his foot down and applied more pressure to the gas pedal. He was relishing the freedom of not sitting in bumper to bumper New York City traffic. On the road out to the Green Tree Resort it was rare to encounter any other cars.
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 nothing else 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 th e 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 .
The other members of the Royal family were business people, not architects. He didn’t want their fingers all over his work. Group projects were bad enough, but working with people who didn’t understand the basics of architectural function and design was the pits.
Inside the foyer of what had once been the main hotel, he looked for signs of any new damage. Or break ins. Picking up a used vape, he quietly swore. “Someone is going to burn this goddamn place down one day.”
The second he finally got the Brock family to sell the resort, he was going to have a permanent security presence established on site. The locals and tourists would be given polite but firm directions to keep well away. Months from now, this would be a building site. He didn’t need people wandering around the grounds while there was heavy machinery working. There would be dust and loud noise.
But for now, the silence inside the lodge bordered on deafening. A chill ran down his spine. It was strange being out here all alone.
“This place must have been amazing in its heyday.”
He could just imagine the lobby being full of guests all happily mingling with one another after an exhausting day on the nearby ski slopes. Matthew sighed. The ghosts of the past had had the run of the lodge for far too long.
“I’m sorry, folks, but your days of rattling around this abandoned hotel are fast coming to an end. This part of Aspen needs to live again. Which means you’ll have to find a new place to haunt. It’s time to settle up your bills and check out.”
He’d been over the site enough times to know the serious amount of dollars that would have to be pumped into the existing building in order to bring it back to its original condition. Millions upon millions—money which Royal Resorts would never be able to recoup .
Apart from a few salient features like the magnificent wood frame and marble floored lobby, the rest of the Green Tree Resort didn’t have all that much which was worth saving. It all had to go.
Do you really believe that, or is it just easier to go along with what the board wants and start again with a clean slate?
Matthew did his best to ignore his persistent conscience. Knocking down the lodge went against all he’d thought he stood for, which was to save and preserve. He’d marched along with thousands of others to lobby congress on environmental bills, pressed his father into making sizeable donations to Greenpeace. But while guilt over the future of the Green Tree Resort had kept him awake many nights, he’d been forced to admit, the numbers didn’t lie.
“I can’t see how I could save this place and not lose a ton of cash in the process . ”
The appeal of a renovated but still badly outdated resort wasn’t worth the commercial risk. Cashed up visitors to the town already had a smorgasbord of high-end hotels and resorts to choose from. There were more things for them to do in town, and better facilities. A resort situated three miles out of the city center would have to have something mind-blowingly unique in order to get people to venture out into the wilds. To get them to stay and part with their money.
And the only way that was going to happen was if Royal Resorts knocked down the old, tired ski lodge and started over. What this site needed was something spectacular, a unique style of resort which no one else had yet attempted to build in the US.
We need to grab people’s attention. Then they will open their wallets.
Kneeling on the rubble strewn floor, Matthew rolled out a printed copy of his master plan. Design programs were great, but nothing could beat the tactile joy that came with working with old school paper. As he laid out the huge sheet, he collected up some of the heavy pieces of broken plaster, using them as weights to hold the blueprint down flat.
As he worked, he could have sworn the ghosts of the old lodge had gathered and were now peering over his shoulder, whispering their disgust and displeasure at the ultra-modern glass and steel hotel, which was to take the place of their home.
Shame on you, Mister Royal. Shame.