would be bringing to the board in a few days, he wondered if those traits should also make him nervous.
BOARD MEETINGS WERE usually held in the conference room at the Faraway Inn and this one was no exception. Hannah’s sister Shay, who owned the inn, always saw to it that the necessary equipment was carefully and meticulously arranged; monitors, cameras and audio so even members participating long-distance were able to converse. The result was a modern, professional, yet comfortable atmosphere and usually she enjoyed the gatherings.
But not today, because now Hannah stared at Tate and listened to his comments and suggestions—and to his recommendations to completely and thoroughly unravel her ski resort.
He wanted to change everything.
He proposed turning nearly all of the runs under chairlift two—her prime intermediate ski runs—into snowboard terrain.
“I feel strongly that the construction of a half-pipe right here—” he stopped to point and she felt it like a jab in the chest “—would be the perfect location. Eventually the addition of a second half-pipe here...”
Was he joking? Two half-pipes? One would cost a lot—way more than they could afford at this point. Not to mention the continual maintenance. She looked down at the estimates he’d passed out before he started speaking. Two would be excessive to the nth degree.
“A snowboard-cross course or some slope-style components would also help to draw competitive boarders.” He met her eyes for a few seconds before adding, “And skiers. Snowy Sky could hold competitions and I guarantee you would get some professionals coming here to train. I’ve already talked to...”
Rattling off names she guessed were supposed to impress them all, he went on to add credence to his economic points with more numbers and statistics. Then he mentioned that while the lodge’s overall theme was “quaint and charming,” the design should be “upgraded” and the layout “altered” for a more modern feel, and it should also include high-end penthouse suites.
According to Tate, even the restaurant should serve different food.
She glanced around the room, and at the faces peering back from the monitors, and was struck with the feeling that she was the only one who hadn’t been hypnotized by this magician. The one possible exception was her friend Edith Milner whose expression Hannah thought held some skepticism.
As one of Snowy Sky’s largest investors, Edith had been instrumental in helping Hannah throughout this whole process—from permits to securing funding. Hannah had received a large settlement after the accident but not nearly enough to open the resort on her own. Edith had made it all possible, investing heavily and bringing others on board through her vast business connections, including her friend and fellow koi enthusiast Tiger Takagi.
But the other board members seemed riveted by Tate’s commentary and suggestions.
Hannah felt like screaming.
She’d been ready for the subject of snowboarding to be addressed, had even thought about the places where she might defer—or at the very least compromise. But never once had he said he intended to recommend an overhaul of the entire resort.
He had ambushed her plain and simple.
She forced herself to remain calm, though, because in spite of his failure to disclose his intentions, she felt confident she had the votes to reject any proposals based on Tate’s recommendations. Between her, Edith and Mr. Takagi, their block was strong enough.
Upon his closing remarks, Hannah sought permission from the chairman to speak.
“Thank you, Tate, for that informative report and those interesting facts. However, I believe I have explained to you that Snowy Sky’s focus will be a family-oriented, vacation-destination type of ski resort. Skiing is not a cheap endeavor for most families and a huge part of our draw is the large amount of beginner and intermediate ski runs, affordable rentals, lodging and food. We’re not interested in attracting professional snowboarders and competitions, or replacing our prime ski runs with snowboard terrain. One half-pipe is at best cost prohibitive. Two half-pipes feels disproportionate. How would we pay for one? And where would this influx of snowboarders come from that we could possibly justify two?”
“Skiers use half-pipes now, too,” he returned.
“Not the average skier.”
“The practice is growing in popularity.” He sounded completely confident and a little dismissive as he shifted his focus back to the screen. “If you look at these numbers I’ve compiled, you’ll see...”
After he finished his rebuttal, the board began discussing his various recommendations and asking questions. The level of excitement in the air reminded Hannah of a high school pep rally.
Over the din, Tate flashed another smile at her. But this was a smile she hadn’t seen before. One of satisfaction? She should have known he wasn’t taking her seriously. She’d thought they were becoming friends, had even found herself pondering whether they could be more than that. Something she hadn’t considered about anyone in nearly three years—not since the accident. Not since Spencer.
Park was beaming. He tried to catch her eye; she ignored him. But she couldn’t ignore the enthusiastic sounds of the board members discussing the additional revenue competitions could bring. Yes, it would bring in revenue, she wanted to shout above the noise, but it would also add untold, unsound expense.
Tamping down her frustration, she reasonably pointed out, “Please keep in mind that accommodating competitions and snowboarders in this manner would be expensive and also result in keeping families and recreational skiers away.”
“I don’t agree,” Park countered. “The expense would be offset by the revenue. It’s pretty clear that we need these half-pipes.” He referenced some of Tate’s statistics and then went on in his annoyingly superior tone, “As board members, it should be our job to focus on ensuring the economic success of Snowy Sky in any way possible.”
Edith chimed in from one of the monitors, “That does not include reckless spending, Mr. Lowell. In my opinion, Hannah and the board’s existing and more conservative approach has a much better cost-to-benefit ratio.”
Tate diplomatically added that implementing his recommendations would still leave more than adequate space for the “run-of-the-mill skier.”
Run-of-the-mill? Hannah felt a spike of annoyance. “These run-of-the-mill skiers you’re disparaging are going to be our bread and butter,” she countered smoothly.
He lifted his hands, palms up. “That’s fine. That’s great. I’m not trying to insult anyone here. All I’m asking is why not aspire to more than just bread and butter?”
“I know I would,” Park chimed in. “I’d like some steak and lobster every now and then.” An overly loud guffaw made him sound like the jerk she knew him to be.
More discussion ensued until Terry, the board’s chairman, suggested a special meeting be held in the near future to address Tate’s report. This would give everyone time to read and fully digest the material. Any proposals to take Snowy Sky in a “different direction” could be presented at that time. They voted to hold it the week after Christmas.
As
