“Enough for me to know that Snowberry Lodge has been in your family for generations,” he said. “And you’d very much like to keep it that way. I can help you.”
She nodded, purposely not adding to that.
“Like I said, I visited yesterday.”
“You should have introduced yourself,” she said, keeping her voice warm so it didn’t sound accusatory. “I would have loved to have shown you around.”
“I’ll come back,” he said easily. “But I wanted to meet you on neutral ground first, and find out what you need, exactly.”
Where did she start? “I need more guests than I have now,” she said, opting for honesty over any witty comebacks. “We’re running at a…lower than normal capacity, and that’s odd for December.”
“Do you know why?”
“Two words: Grand Hyatt.”
He nodded but looked skeptical.
“Doyouknow why?” she countered.
“I invest in high-velocity hospitality zones—locations where space is finite, demand is infinite, and timing is everything.”
She lifted her brows at the smooth description. “My sister and I own a hundred-year-old lodge with more original plumbing than I care to admit. I don’t think it’s the same business model.”
“I do,” he countered. “Park City is high-velocity and Snowberry Lodge is situated on a spot that, well, God’s just not making any more land like that. And you have something very few properties on this mountain or in these canyons have or can ever offer.”
“Unobstructed views?” she guessed, suspecting he didn’t really know how many places had great views.
“Authentic, heartbreaking, impossible-to-findcharm.”
She let out a sigh. “You sound like my sister,” she said. “She believes that’s enough to fill the beds. I’m not sure I agree. Tourism is changing and people want contemporary ambiance and modern conveniences. They want ease and flash and hot tubs with cocktail service. That’s not what Snowberry offers.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully, considering her words. “I look for places with soul, Cindy,” he said. “And I invest in them, and step back, allowing the owners to do whatever it was they’ve always done to maintain that soul.”
“I like the sound of that,” she admitted. “And you saw…soul at Snowberry?”
He chuckled. “Oodles of it. From the rooflines to the stone stairs. The cabins are precious, the stables are quaint, and the lodge itself looks like a Hallmark movie.”
“Well, don’t look too closely. The roof leaks, the stone stairs are cracked, the cabins need insulation, and no one is filming any movies at Snowberry.” She sipped her coffee. “But I like that you see what we love about it.”
He leaned in. “All that needs to be fixed is money,” he said. “And that’s what I can give you. I keep a small portfolio and work closely with the owners. I don’t believe in modernizing a classic—I believe in enhancing it.”
“And you want to invest in Snowberry?” she asked, hating that hope rose in her.
He smiled. “If you’re open to it. I’d be willing to put in two-hundred-fifty thousand for renovations and upgrades in exchange for a small percentage of revenue. Not ownership. Not even partnership. Just a percentage.”
Two hundred and…what? Cindy blinked, not hearing much of anything after that.
She let the number settle on her, suddenly imagining everything fixed, upgraded, and improved. There would be money to spare to pay the yearly tax bills. That wouldn’t get them on the lift line, but if they had a beautiful warm bus instead of an old van…
“How small a percentage?” she asked, her voice thick.
“We’ll work out the details.” He flicked his hand. “Nothing that would impact your life.”
But everything he said would impact her life. In a very good way. Two hundred and fifty thousand? “It would…change my life.”
“I don’twantto change your life, Cindy,” he said with a warm smile. “I want to make it better. You talk to your sister—I understand Gracie’s mother is your partner? No, um, husband to join in the decision-making?”
He sounded a little hopeful, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. Hopeful he didn’t have to contend with another opinion or…something else?
