“Nice to meet you,” said Karsten.
“That’s a hell of a long time to keep a business in the family.”
Karsten chuckled. “Some would say I’m a slow learner. Should have ditched the place decades ago.”
“So why are you ditching it now?”
Logan had explained the situation to his father numerous times over the phone. But his father didn’t believe Logan should make a financial move without checking out every angle—repeatedly. Saddle Mountain had been teetering on the brink of closure for several years. Karsten was ready to retire, and hadn’t put as much money into the place as he probably should have. He’d told Logan he had interest from a big corporation that was in the real estate development business. The downside was that the developer would simply do a cookie-cutter rehabilitation, creating mediocre ski terrain in order to drive condo sales.
The alternative was for someone local to take over the resort and focus on its best and most unique assets. That was where Logan came in.
“I’m older than these hills you see around us,” said Karsten. “None of my kids or grandkids wants to take it on.”
“I know what that’s like,” said Al. “You spend your life building something to last, but there’s nobody to carry on.”
“Hell, Dad, why be subtle when you can make your point with a sledgehammer?” asked Logan. He was already starting to regret inviting his father up for the day. “Tell you what. Let’s take a look around.”
It was a cozy resort complex designed like an old Tyrolean place in the Alps of Austria. The centerpiece was the big brown-and-orange Austrian-style chalet, set squarely in the middle of everything. Five chairlifts radiated up the mountain in different directions.
Some of Logan’s best memories with Charlie had been made right here on the mountain. They came here together every year, reveling in the snow and the scenery, savoring the rush of speed as they rode down the mountain on their snowboards. It was the one time Logan could simply be with his kid and escape everything else—the tedium of running his firm, a marriage that wasn’t working, the everyday challenges of parenthood.
“It’s a diamond in the rough,” said Logan.
“Emphasis on rough,” said Al, shading his eyes and checking out the old lodge.
“It’s got the second-highest vertical drop in the state,” said Logan. “Three thousand three hundred feet.”
“Could be this is one of those ideas that’s just crazy enough to work,” said Adam, never one to hold back his opinion.
“How’s that?” Logan’s father’s scowl darkened.
Logan used to be afraid of that scowl. Not anymore. “The idea’s not crazy at all. This resort is just a few hours from the city. The financials are going to be a challenge, but I can make it work.” Looking out over the vast property, he could picture a vibrant family place, alive with skiers and snowboarders in winter, mountain bikers, hikers and climbers in summer. With or without his father’s approval, he’d find a way to bring his vision to life.
“Why this?” Al demanded. “Why now?”
“This place means something to me. It’s unique in the world, and I know exactly what I want to do. I practically raise Charlie here in the winter.”
“I didn’t know you were so keen on skiing,” said Al.
You wouldn’t, thought Logan. As a kid, when he wasn’t playing soccer, Logan had barely been a blip on his father’s radar. “I used to come up here with friends all through school,” he reminded him. “I learned to snowboard on this hill when I was younger than Charlie.”
In high school, his knee injury from soccer had sidelined Logan from everything—except partying and painkillers. That had been the start of a crazy, headlong descent down the wrong path. Then the reality that he’d gotten a girl pregnant had smacked him sober, and he’d put his life back together again. The knee had taken longer to heal, and sometimes still ached, but nothing could keep him from doing sports with his son. He never wanted to be a sideline dad. He wanted to be right in it with Charlie.
He and Karsten led the tour through the hotel, showing off its signature rooms with their tree branch bed frames and birch-clad furnishings. There was a spa at one end of the complex, an oddly appealing combination of Nordic traditions and Asian innovations. It looked like a hunting lodge with gongs in place of the trophy heads.
The bar was called the Powder Room and featured furniture and fixtures made from recycled chairlift parts, the walls decorated with vintage wooden skis. The restaurant offered the kind of food you wanted to stuff yourself with after a day on the slopes—mac and cheese, chili, poutine, hot chocolate.
Logan went out on the deck of the restaurant, which faced an expansive view of the slopes. His father came out with him. “This would be a perfect spot to build the zip line course,” Logan said. “It would be a big draw in summer and winter both.”
“You’re determined to do this,” said Al.
“Correction. I am doing it.”
“Son, I applaud your sense of enterprise. The business plan you drew up is an impressive piece of work. But the fact is, resorts are notoriously risky. You’re choosing a hard path.”
“If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
“I just don’t understand,” his father said. “You’ve built a rock-solid business in town. You’re doing well in the insurance field—”
“Underwriting other people’s risks while taking none of my own,” said Logan.
“And it’s worked out well for you,” his father pointed out.
“Has it?” Logan asked. “How so?”
“You’ve got a beautiful home, your own business to take care of, the respect of the community.”
Those were the things that mattered most to his father. Logan knew then he’d never make Al understand. He tried to explain, anyway. “I played it safe. I tried to be responsible. I was a good husband, and the marriage still didn’t work out. I’m a good father, and now my son is moving to Japan. I’ve been a good businessman, and I’m so bored some days I want to hit myself in the head with a hammer.”
“It’s the ebb and flow of life,” said Al, a hint of his Irish heritage coming out.
“Not my life. I’m done playing it safe all the time. I’ve decided to live the way I want to, taking risks, doing something that matters to me, creating something.”
“Creating what?” His father seemed genuinely baffled. “A glorified playground?”
“This is a project I’m passionate about. I have big plans for Saddle Mountain. More mountain-biking in the summer. The zip line. A climbing course. Ice-climbing in winter.”
“You’ll lose your shirt.”
“I’ve lost more than that and survived.”
Al paced the deck, casting dubious glances at the green and gold hills, the grand view of Willow Lake in the valley with the town of Avalon hugging its shore. “I understand that restless feeling,” Al said. “I was young once, too. But it’s a cockamamie scheme. It’s not that I don’t trust you or think you’re a good businessman. I simply can’t give my approval to your financial downfall.”
“The plan is to succeed, not fail,” Logan said, struggling to keep his voice even. A decade of anger and resentment simmered just beneath the surface. “And I don’t need your approval.”
“You haven’t thought this out,” his father said. “You’re panicking because Charlie is going to be moving so far away. You miss him and you’re trying to fill the void.”
Ah, so now Al was the armchair psychologist. “And what if I am?” asked Logan.
“Never make a decision driven by panic. It won’t work.”
“I’m not panicking, and it’s going to work.”