I knock on 412, and Mrs. Bruce opens the door immediately, already mid-complaint. “Mr. Hale, finally. I’ve been freezing for two days?—”
“Mrs. Bruce.” I give her my most charming smile. “I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been uncomfortable. May I come in?”
She steps aside, and I enter the suite. It’s warm. Actually, it’s bordering on hot with the space heater running.
“I assure you, we’ve checked the heating system multiple times?—”
“The heating is fine.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But I’m seventy-three years old. My circulation isn’t what it used to be.”
I bite back a smile. “I understand completely. What if we moved you to a suite with a fireplace? The Presidential Suite just became available. No extra charge, of course.”
Her eyes light up. “The Presidential Suite?”
“It has a wood-burning fireplace, heated floors, and a spectacular view. I think you’d be much more comfortable there.”
“Well.” She tries to look reluctant but fails. “If you think that’s best.”
“I do. I’ll have your things moved within the hour.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back in the lobby. Thomas is grinning. “The Presidential Suite, sir? That’s a fifteen-hundred-dollar-per-night upgrade.”
“Mrs. Bruce spends thirty thousand a season here and brings her entire extended family.” I adjust my watch. “Fifteen hundred to keep her happy is a bargain.”
“You’re good at this.”
“It’s what years of experience teach you.”
I continue my walk-through. Check the restaurant kitchen. Inspect the spa facilities. Stop by the ski lodge to make sure equipment rentals are running smoothly.
This resort is my legacy.
The smell of pine from the massive Christmas tree in the lobby hits me as I pass, and suddenly I’m twenty-five again. Standing in an empty field with an architect’s rendering and a dream that everyone said was impossible.
“You can’t build a luxury resort in the middle of nowhere,” they said. “Nobody will come.”
But I knew better. I knew that people with money don’t want crowds. They want privacy. Exclusivity. A place where they can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a few weeks.
I built it anyway. Nearly lost everything three times before the resort finally turned a profit.
Catherine thought I was insane. My wife never understood why I needed this. Why legitimate success mattered when we had plenty of money from less legitimate sources.
“You’re going to work yourself to death,” she used to say. “For what? So you can tell people you own a resort?”
She never got it. Never understood that I was building something for our sons. Something they could point to with pride instead of shame. She died before she could see it succeed.
I’ve spent the last fifteen years making sure her fears don’t come true. Making sure this empire is solid enough to protect our family from anything.
Even from ourselves.
I shake off the memory and head back to my private wing. Nostalgia is useless. The present is what matters. And right now, the present involves closing a deal worth forty million dollars.
My office is quiet when I return. I pour coffee and settle behind my desk, pulling up the files for today’s conference call.
The hospitality company we’re acquiring has been playing hard to get for three months. But I’ve worn them down. Today, they’ll accept my offer.
They always do.
A knock at my door pulls my attention.
