The Restaurateur

by Aubrey Parker

  Damon sighs. Of course, I’m right. I know all of the resort’s expenses because Damon gave them to me for due diligence. I’ve been back half a dozen times over a six-month period, and not once have I seen more than ten percent of the homes occupied. Unless Damon is cooking meth up there, there’s no way the resort’s income is covering the cost of staff, grounds maintenance, repairs, and property taxes. It’s a hole in his wallet. He’s kept it open because he has his inheritance and a profitable business away from the mountain. He’s kept it open by sheer will, mostly to keep his daughter happy.

  “Being right doesn’t change anything.”

  “Damon, you need to face facts. You’re not a young man. I think we both know Elizabeth isn’t going to take the place over from you.”

  “She says she has a plan. She wants to run a school or something?” I can almost picture him scratching his head.

  “You don’t even know what it is. A school or something? Even if it is a school, the idea doesn’t make sense. Schools aren’t generally profitable institutions. And atop a mountain?”

  I want to add: She has no idea what it takes to build something in the real world because she’s been spoiled her whole life. But I don’t.

  “She’s smarter than you’d think.”

  I have serious doubts, but I counter in a way Damon can’t argue with. “Smarts don’t pay the bills.”

  “I can make up the shortfall until …” He gropes for a way to end the sentence. I see my opportunity.

  “Until when, Damon? What’s her business plan? Have you seen it? What’s her profit model? A lot of businesses run in the red for a while. How long does she anticipate it taking before she’s in the black?”

  “I don’t know the details.”

  “I doubt she knows the details. She danced around the specifics when I asked her at lunch.”

  Damon laughs. “That’s not necessarily the reason. I just got the impression that she really, really didn’t like you.”

  “Is that a rational way to run a business? I had legitimate questions. As I’m sure you have. But — and no offense to Elizabeth; she’s probably very capable, but it sounds to me like she has a dream more than a plan. She just wants to keep owning the mountain. I don’t think she’s thought much further than that, at least not in any detail.”

  “Well—”

  “Damon. There are a lot of things here we can both guess at. We have a lot of maybes to accompany our ambitions, promises, and vague ideas. But beyond that, there are the facts that no one can deny. You’re losing money every year, and you have no plans or ambition to change that. You have to run it yourself. And you’re tired. It’s just too big a parcel to own, and the resort barely counts as a business. It’s a few nice rentals, but even those are costing you — the property taxes are killer versus what you’d have if you’d just built dinky log cabins. I think you know that you’ll have to sell within five years. Selling to Elizabeth doesn’t count unless she pays full market value because if you give it to her or sell it cheap, the situation isn’t fixed.”

  “Mateo …”

  “I, on the other hand, am willing to pay above market value. You can walk away from this with no worries and a heap of cash. The mountain itself is useless to you. But what could you do with a big payout?” I pause for effect. “What if you used that money — the money you get from me — to fund Elizabeth’s school or whatever?”

  Silence on the line. Perhaps that was unfair. By repeating Damon’s ambivalent phrasing for Elizabeth’s supposed project, I’m reminding him that he, himself, doesn’t believe it’ll ever become a thing of value.

  “These are facts, Damon. Not thoughts or guesses or notions. When we focus on the facts — the things you and I know for certain — the truth is that one day soon, you’ll be forced to sell the property. When the hole gets deep enough, and things get bad enough, and your renters dry up, it won’t be a choice. It won’t be Mateo Saint coming by, and you deciding whether or not you want to let him have it. It’ll be something you have to do. And if we both know that your family can’t hold onto this place forever, then why are we negotiating as if you can?”

  He takes a while before responding. “Elizabeth’s idea—”

  “Might be great. But she can’t even tell you her timeframe. Whatever she wants to create, it doesn’t have to be on this enormous, sprawling mountain. It could be built anywhere. Even on a smaller mountain property, where she doesn’t have to own and maintain the entire thing. And her chances of making this work … are they better if she’s starting with a cushion, which will happen if I pay you what this property is worth? Or if she builds here, on land that’s losing money — starting out with a handicap instead of an advantage?”

  I let this sink in. Then I drop my last hammer.

  “Look. You know me. I told you my vision, and you said it’s noble. I know you believe I’ll take care of the land. I won’t sell it for condos. To be blunt, I don’t need the money. I’m a billionaire who can afford to throw his money away. I won’t sell logging rights or bring in developers. You want to honor the land? Well, I’m your best bet. It’s a far better choice than continuing to bury your head in the sand, losing money and years of life until you’re forced to sell to someone who will never respect the mountain like I will.”

  “You’re right,” he finally says. “There’s every reason to sell.”

  “It’s what Elizabeth would want, too, if she were willing to admit it.”

  “I don’t know. She really seemed to hate you.” He laughs a little, so I know that while the sentiment is probably true, Damon’s not thinking of derailing this deal because of it.

  I savor this moment because it’s exactly what Taylor was pushing me toward. Talk to Elizabeth through Damon. Convince her through him. It’s what I’ve done, and I’ve done it well.

  Except here comes that bit that Taylor didn’t mention. The unpleasant catch.

  We can’t just sidestep around Elizabeth. Even her father won’t proceed with this “it’s what she wants” scenario without telling her. Without involving her. Without me having to somehow deal with that bitch all over again.

  I shiver, knowing what Damon’s about to say.

  “I agree with everything you said. It’s all true. Logically. So okay. Yes. I will sell you the property. We’re going to do this.”

  But …

  “But I won’t do this behind Elizabeth’s back or have her mad at me forever over it. This mountain means a lot to her. It’s part of our history. I’ll tell Elizabeth that the deal is on, but before we make it official, I need you to do something for me.”

  I close my eyes. “You want me to meet with her again.”

  “Close,” Damon says. “I need you to show her that you’re not … whatever it is she thinks you are. I like you, Mateo. I believe it when you say you’ll honor the land and our legacy. Elizabeth might even come to see that in time, but not right now. Because right now, she’s blind. I don’t know what went wrong when you two met for lunch, but I do know it needs fixing.”

  Eyes still closed, I say, “Okay. How?”

  “Meet her again. After I talk to her and I swear up and down that you two just got off on the wrong foot. I’m going to make some big promises, Mateo. I’m going to talk you up. I need you to honor those promises as much as the land. I need you to be nice when you meet her.”

  Fuck. That’s not going to work. Probably because she’s a sniveling, privileged, spoiled brat.

  “Okay,” is all I can say.

  “But she’s particular. It will be hard to make her like you without some creative positioning.”

  “You want me to lie to her.”

  “I want you to be careful to show her your very best side.”

  “Or in other words, to just suck it up and do whatever she says.” I look at the ceiling. “I’m not comfortable with this, Damon.”

  “You have to be. It’s my only condition. I want her at least a little on board with you as the new owner, Ma
teo. I want my little girl feeling good if this is going to happen. I need your word that you’ll do your best.”

  To what? Be a Ken doll for Elizabeth to pose however she’d like? Become a hollow shell, smiling at whatever elitist, classist, prejudiced things that come out of her mouth?

  “You have my word,” I tell him.

  “Be whatever person she wants you to be,” Damon says, “as long as it makes her happy.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ELIZABETH

  “WHY DOES IT HAVE TO be on a goddamn mountain?” Michael asks. “If you’re serious about building a think tank, can’t it be somewhere less stupid?”

  I look at Michael. He has long brown hair and a salt-and-pepper beard, messy but kept short. It’s nothing compared to Tom’s epic bristles. Michael has hard eyes but a surprisingly cuddly core. Most people never see it, because he’s such an abrasive asshole.

  “Because she already owns a mountain,” says Rueben. His shoes are untied. The guy is beyond brilliant, but totally A.D.D. Almost like an entrepreneur savant, lacking a lot of basic personal skills. It’s entirely possible he doesn’t even know how to tie his laces.

  They both look at me, waiting. So do Blake, Michelle, and the others. There are fourteen of us here this weekend, bunkered cozily into the main lodge at my father’s resort. It’s warm at the lower altitudes, but cold up here. We’ve got a fire burning in the massive central fireplace. The thing takes half a tree’s worth of wood to get going.

  “It’s more than that,” I say. “There’s a reason I wanted to have this specific session of our mastermind up here, on the same mountain where I want to build The Pike. I wanted you to feel what it’s like.”

  “It feels like a mountain,” says Michael.

  “I meant the sense of freedom. The sense of leaving everything behind.” I look at Tom for support, and he dutifully nods. I knew I could count on Tom. His beard is a mountain man’s beard. He works with three other men with beards as big as his, plus one woman, building software that keeps most of the big carriers’ cellular networks online..

  “But it’s a pain in the ass getting up here,” Michael says.

  “It's necessary to leave it all behind. And it works. Think about it. We’re on our last day here. I haven’t taken a Hot Seat until now so that we could think through ways to 10x all of your businesses first. I wanted you to see what a difference it makes to have one of these sessions off the grid. Do you think you’d have come close to the ideas we brainstormed for you Friday and yesterday if we’d gotten together in a Holiday Inn conference room?”

  Michael grunts.

  “We’ve always held our sessions in hotels,” I continue. “And so far, we’ve had hotel results: good, but hardly groundbreaking. I’ve been in a few masterminds like this. Rooms full of ridiculously smart people, all getting better together. I spent a fortune to be in those groups. The environment always mattered. We usually met in hotels, and that was fine. But one group met in the Appalachian foothills, in a converted lumberjack camp. Everyone had their own little cabins. We met, ate together, even toasted marshmallows over a campfire. That was the session where I came up with Big Blue. The dynamic funnel was also conceived at that event. And Georgia Macy’s idea about partnering with Navril — we all know what happened with that. Three of the attendees published bestsellers the next year and launched their speaking careers. It had everything to do with the environment.”

  “Maybe they got lucky,” Michelle says.

  Michelle’s never been lucky in her life. She was twenty when she landed her first national copywriting contract despite never having written professionally. Then she parlayed that gig into a partnership with the printer who pushed it out into brochures and somehow negotiated a per-mailing commission for herself. When she made her first million from that, she bought a web hosting company, split it into two functionally different companies, and quadrupled the markets of each.

  “No, man,” Tom says, stroking that big mountain beard. “Environment matters. I can’t get phone service or email up here. All I can do is fucking think and work.”

  “It has to be here,” I say. “That’s the premise of this Hot Seat. I don’t want to hear how I can fund and build The Pike; I want to know how I can do it here, on the top of this mountain. I’ve ballparked some figures — what it’ll take to haul the supplies and construct the main hall and a dormitory. I think I can convert much of what’s already here. Use the existing homes for faculty, guests, and VIPs. But it has to be the best. It’s not just a think tank; it’ll be the best think tank in the world. I want the smartest people on the planet dying to come up here.”

  “How will you make money?”

  “Admission, mostly. Maybe hall rental for members. Remember how rich these people are going to be, Tom. We’re not looking for eight-figure entrepreneurs; we want nine-figure plus. They’ll have access to the world’s very best minds so we can charge premium prices.”

  I hand around papers — my initial business plan and back-of-the-napkin budget. Blake is the first to start shaking her head.

  “This is what you showed me before, honey. And it won’t work. You’ll need a lot of money up front to build something that nine-figure entrepreneurs are going to want to spend a fortune to attend.”

  “And that’s what this Hot Seat is for,” I say.

  Rueben is scratching his head. “And you want part of it to be a school, right?”

  “Maybe. If it fits.”

  “And you’d charge tuition? High tuition?”

  “Of course.”

  Michael shakes his head, then puts the paperwork down. “It’s an interesting idea, Elizabeth. And I know you’re smart enough to pull it off. But Blake is right. You need a hell of a lot more money than you have to build something worth attending without needing years to earn a reputation.”

  “Maybe you’d like to invest.”

  Rueben laughs. “We have our hands full enough as it is.”

  “And your whole model is flawed. Flip this budget around so that you have a chance at making money and maybe I’d consider backing you. Maybe. But not as it stands.” Michelle shrugs. “Ballpark, I’d say you either need to project five times as much income in year one, or build the resort for a lot less.”

  “How much less?”

  Michelle considers the numbers. “Free.”

  Rueben barks laughter, smiling like a kid.

  I don’t like what I’m hearing. I know this will work, and The Pike could be the best private learning institution of its kind in the world. The problem is getting it up and running. I know that, but it's disheartening to see my successful, outside-the-box friends telling me I can’t make it happen.

  Isn’t this mastermind supposed to be about finding creative ways around obstacles? Rueben’s software company originally built a killer module for another company’s product, but when the other company didn’t want to do business, Rueben started a new division of his own company to build a competing product. Then he drove the other out of business and dominated the market. That’s how this group is supposed to get things done. And now they’re telling me I can’t do this? It feels like they’re stepping on my chest.

  “I know how to make it work,” Michael says.

  I look up with hope. He raises his eyes from my paper, looking over the top of his glasses, and fixes me with a stare.

  “How?”

  “Build it somewhere else. Somewhere you won’t have to ship all the building materials or pay to have them lugged up the mountain. Somewhere with much lower maintenance costs.”

  “That just lowers her overhead,” Michelle says. “It doesn’t solve the problem.”

  “I’m not finished.” Michael looks at me. “And you should sell the mountain.”

  I feel like I’ve been punched.

  “She doesn’t want to sell the mountain,” Blake says.

  “Then she’s not building her academy.” Michael shakes the paper. “I believe in miracles, but they need to be sm
aller. Blake told me that your father already has an interested buyer. Sell the mountain, and you’ll have what you need to build the dream.”

  I glare. “Blake!”

  “Was that a secret?”

  “Let your dad sell it. He doesn’t need the money; I’m sure he’d loan it to you. Or, hell, give it to you.”

  I turn. Not this again. They don’t see the vision. These are my smartest friends — people I’ve collected because of their brilliant minds — and they just don’t get it this time.

  “It has to be here,” I say. “Right here, on this mountain.”

  “Why?” Michelle sounds exasperated.

  I don’t feel like giving all the details. I just know it’s right. I’ve mapped it all out, the entire academy’s master floor plan. If I’m going to build the world’s best think tank, alongside an academy for the development of brilliant minds, I can’t do the Holiday Inn version. This needs to be elite. A destination in and of itself. I want an estate, accessible by limo, helicopter, private jet. The best of the best, in a one-of-a-kind location. My return-on-investment wouldn’t even need to come in cash. I’d be here to learn from geniuses. Payment by knowledge infusion. Here, in the most scenic spot I know.

  Besides, the “most scenic spot” version offers another huge benefit: It keeps the mountain in my family. It makes my father proud while getting him out of his day to day. And it lets my mother, still new to her grave, stay home where she belongs.

  The thought that I might not do it here is heartbreaking. I meant what I said to Daddy, a hundred times over. If he sells this place, it will break me. I have a plan that will work if time will just stand still long enough to let me get it rolling. I need someone big enough to see the light. A powerful advocate. One true believer.

  With my back turned to the room, I feel my eyes water. I shouldn’t let this affect me. It’s just business. I won’t show weakness.

  There’s a way to do it, whether they believe me or not.

  I sniff. I blink. Then I turn to face them.

  “What if I—?”