“I’m saying…” She swallowed. “Maybe it would be in our best interest to think seriously about selling Snowberry Lodge.”
“What?” The question was fired by Gracie, MJ’s daughter, as she walked in and froze in shock.
MJ grabbed the edge of the counter and stared at Cindy. “You cannot be serious,” she managed to say, then pointed to the dining room behind Gracie. “Benny and Dad can’t hear this, can they? Dad would…” She grunted. “His heart couldn’t take it.”
“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 inthe 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.”
