resort.”
“That’s quite a statement, young lady.”
“I know. But it looks perfect, at least the specs do. It’s an area in the northwestern section of Pennsylvania, about an hour from Pittsburgh. Lots of trees, birds, deer, a lake even… the whole nature bit.” She waved a hand in front of her. “The kind of landscape tourists love. And, get this”—she leaned forward, rested her elbows on the top of her cherry desk—“the first snowfall last year was October twenty-second.”
His pale blue eyes lit up. “Mix it with a little powder…”
“And by mid-November the slopes would be ideal.” She swiveled her chair around, pulled a large portfolio off the credenza and spread the contents on the desk. “Here, we’ve got a map of the area. There’s the Allegheny River, running west, which seems to be right in the town’s backyard.” She traced a thin blue line. “And over here”—she pointed to a small, blue shape—“is Sapphire Lake. The water alone is enough to get excited about, but they’ve got mountains, and steep hills, too. I can just picture them with lights and ski lifts.”
Her uncle picked up the map, studied it, rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want another piecemeal project, Alex. This time, I want the whole thing. One deal, period.”
“I agree.” She shifted in her chair. “I know you were disappointed Mr. Oshanski didn’t sell out sooner.” Her voice dipped. “He had a lot of issues to deal with…”
“We can’t afford to fall prey to another person’s sentimental wanderings. If we can’t get the package this time, we don’t do the deal.”
“I’ll get it, Uncle Walter.” She hadn’t missed the flecks of disappointment in his voice. Even though he’d told her he didn’t hold her responsible for Mr. Oshanski’s thirteen-month delayed response, she felt responsible. She should have been able to persuade him to sell off his land and buy a condo in the suburbs. But looking at him, sitting in his rocker on the front porch of the old farmhouse where he and his deceased wife, Lena, had raised seven children, it hadn’t seemed appropriate or plausible to mention. He wasn’t the type who would look forward to central vacuuming or maintenance-free lawns. His children were scattered all over the country, busy with lives of their own and all he had left were memories… and a tree. Uncle Walter would never understand about the tree, or the memories, for that matter.
“What else do you know about the area?”
“Well, it looks like there are two families who run the place.” She scanned her notes. “The Kraziaks… and the Androvichs. A Mr. Norman Kraziak owns a sawmill company and a furniture manufacturing plant. They make specialty rocking chairs. And the Androvichs, looks like a Nicholas, owns five hundred acres and a logging business.”
“Interesting.”
Alex glanced up. “How so?”
Uncle Walter’s lips pulled into a semblance of a smile. “It’s obvious the businesses are interdependent. They may even have relatives on both sides, through marriage and whatnot. One can’t survive without the other. All you have to do is win one of them over...”
“And the other won’t be able to survive.”
“Or at the very least, surviving would prove very difficult. That’s where we come in and offer them a way out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Alex jotted down a few notes. Meet Mr. Kraziak and Mr. Androvich, ASAP. “I thought I’d leave in a couple of days. Get myself settled.” Show you I haven’t lost my touch. I can do this, I can get the whole package.
“What? Not even a buying trip to New York?”
“No.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve got half a closet stuffed with clothes that still have Bloomingdale and NeimanMarcus tags on them. I really think I should pass.”
“Eric said something about Maui.”
Here it comes. “Good. He should take a vacation. He’s been working hard.”
Uncle Walter cleared his throat.
“That’s quite a statement, young lady.”
“I know. But it looks perfect, at least the specs do. It’s an area in the northwestern section of Pennsylvania, about an hour from Pittsburgh. Lots of trees, birds, deer, a lake even… the whole nature bit.” She waved a hand in front of her. “The kind of landscape tourists love. And, get this”—she leaned forward, rested her elbows on the top of her cherry desk—“the first snowfall last year was October twenty-second.”
His pale blue eyes lit up. “Mix it with a little powder…”
“And by mid-November the slopes would be ideal.” She swiveled her chair around, pulled a large portfolio off the credenza and spread the contents on the desk. “Here, we’ve got a map of the area. There’s the Allegheny River, running west, which seems to be right in the town’s backyard.” She traced a thin blue line. “And over here”—she pointed to a small, blue shape—“is Sapphire Lake. The water alone is enough to get excited about, but they’ve got mountains, and steep hills, too. I can just picture them with lights and ski lifts.”
Her uncle picked up the map, studied it, rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want another piecemeal project, Alex. This time, I want the whole thing. One deal, period.”
“I agree.” She shifted in her chair. “I know you were disappointed Mr. Oshanski didn’t sell out sooner.” Her voice dipped. “He had a lot of issues to deal with…”
“We can’t afford to fall prey to another person’s sentimental wanderings. If we can’t get the package this time, we don’t do the deal.”
“I’ll get it, Uncle Walter.” She hadn’t missed the flecks of disappointment in his voice. Even though he’d told her he didn’t hold her responsible for Mr. Oshanski’s thirteen-month delayed response, she felt responsible. She should have been able to persuade him to sell off his land and buy a condo in the suburbs. But looking at him, sitting in his rocker on the front porch of the old farmhouse where he and his deceased wife, Lena, had raised seven children, it hadn’t seemed appropriate or plausible to mention. He wasn’t the type who would look forward to central vacuuming or maintenance-free lawns. His children were scattered all over the country, busy with lives of their own and all he had left were memories… and a tree. Uncle Walter would never understand about the tree, or the memories, for that matter.
“What else do you know about the area?”
“Well, it looks like there are two families who run the place.” She scanned her notes. “The Kraziaks… and the Androvichs. A Mr. Norman Kraziak owns a sawmill company and a furniture manufacturing plant. They make specialty rocking chairs. And the Androvichs, looks like a Nicholas, owns five hundred acres and a logging business.”
“Interesting.”
Alex glanced up. “How so?”
Uncle Walter’s lips pulled into a semblance of a smile. “It’s obvious the businesses are interdependent. They may even have relatives on both sides, through marriage and whatnot. One can’t survive without the other. All you have to do is win one of them over...”
“And the other won’t be able to survive.”
“Or at the very least, surviving would prove very difficult. That’s where we come in and offer them a way out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Alex jotted down a few notes. Meet Mr. Kraziak and Mr. Androvich, ASAP. “I thought I’d leave in a couple of days. Get myself settled.” Show you I haven’t lost my touch. I can do this, I can get the whole package.
“What? Not even a buying trip to New York?”
“No.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve got half a closet stuffed with clothes that still have Bloomingdale and NeimanMarcus tags on them. I really think I should pass.”
“Eric said something about Maui.”
Here it comes. “Good. He should take a vacation. He’s been working hard.”
Uncle Walter cleared his throat.
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