Page 2 of The Last Resort
Following some final onsite checks today at the Green Tree Resort, he’d confirm everything with the model builders back in New York and give them the final go ahead for completion. His highly detailed scale mockup of the site’s new development plans, would surely dazzle both the city planners and the owners of the old ski lodge. By the time he’d finished showing them his proposal they’d be falling over themselves to sign both the approvals and the contract of sale. His grand vision would soon come to life.
He gritted his teeth. But what if they still refused? He didn’t know what he’d do. The mere thought of failure had his jaw locking hard.
I can’t tell the Board of Royal Resorts that after two years of trying to land this deal, I couldn’t close it out. I just can’t. If I do, they’ll lump me in with Jordan. I’ll be another family fuck-up.
A year and a half ago, his older brother had crashed and burned during the launch of the company’s billion-dollar Laguna Beach resort in California. The ripples from the fallout of Jordan’s resort disaster were still being felt within the family. Matthew was determined he wasn’t going to be the next Royal son to make a mess of a major business project.
On the seat next to him, his cell phone pinged. He glanced at it. It was a text from his eldest brother Bryce, theCEO for Royal Resorts USA. The universe must have been listening.
Let me know how things go with the final checks at the site
Just landed. Will let U know if any problems.
You’ve got this, the board and I believe in you
He hesitated before deciding not to answer that last note. He’d prefer that his actions spoke louder than mere words. A signed and sealed deal was what he needed. It would silence any potential critics from the board or Aspen locals alike.
Rising from his seat, Matthew wrapped his olive-green cashmere scarf around his neck, slipped his black woolen beanie on his head, then dropped his cell phone into his jacket pocket. He zipped the jacket all the way up. It paid to be dressed for the elements in Aspen.
Travel bag in hand, he made his way down the steps of the jet, stopping as another small plane taxied to a stop at the top of the runway. Aspen airport was always busy with private aircraft.
While he waited for the plane to take off, Matthew grabbed his phone and tapped out a quick message to Mia, his assistant manager. Mia was based at the company’s head offices in Lower Manhattan, New York.
Landed. Can U check on council meeting date? Need confirm
Confirm coming shortly. Need your final sign off on model ASAP
U R a legend. Thxs
Mia was the most organized person he’d ever met. Tucking his phone back into his jacket, Matthew made his way across the marked out walkway on the windy tarmac and headed toward the main airport building. His usual hire car, a red Jeep Wrangler with its engine and seats pre warmed, would be waiting for him in the parking lot.
The other billionaire and millionaire types who frequented Aspen airport often had private chauffer driven cars waiting on the tarmac to pick them up, but he liked the freedom of having his own vehicle. And the privacy. It paid to keep a low profile while you were in the long game of trying to negotiate a purchase. If anyone from his rival companies in the hotel and resort business happened to catch wind of his secret little project, he might well find himself in the middle of a bidding war.
And we can’t have that.
He’d been to Aspen many times over the past two years. He knew the roads, the stores, and the layout of the town. But few people actually knew who he was, and he intended on keeping it that way. At least until he received formal approval for the new Royal Resorts Aspen project from the city’s planning committee, and he had the vendors signatures on the sale contract. After that, he’d have no issues with everyone knowing that Matthew Royal was in town.
Just a little bit longer. Keep going. Don’t lose sight of what you want.
Wrangling a luggage cart loaded up with three heavy suitcases was worse than trying to get out of Costco with fifty pounds of stuff you didn’t need but had to have. At least at Costcoyou could get a seven-pound peanut butter cake, and that was something everyone needed.
I wonder where the nearest Costco store is? Worst case, I have to find a local bakery that makes yummy, sweet treats.
Her sister Kellie, who lived in Aspen, was due to pick her up. They’d arranged for Rachel to message her once she was outside and waiting at the curb.
Must ask Kellie about cake shops.
As she approached the arrivals doors of the airport, they opened automatically, gifting Rachel with a welcoming blast of icy Colorado mountain air. It took her breath away and brought tears to her eyes.
“Sheesh. Oh boy. That’s cold.”
She wasn’t stupid, she’d expected it to be chilly in Aspen, but not this cold. If this was her version of hell, then it had certainly frozen over.
How did people live in this town? And who in their right mind would pay to come here for their holidays, rather than spending them lying on a warm tropical beach, sipping cocktails from glasses decorated with pretty little umbrellas?
Not me. Not that I can afford a holiday anywhere. I don’t even have a place to live.
Using her pile of luggage as a shield against the biting wind, Rachel pressed on. But once she got outside the main building, things went from bad to worse. The sloped pavement was slick with ice, and the second the wheels of her cart hit the skids, she knew she was in deep trouble.
