Aspen Gold (40 page)

"Hello, Sondra."

"J.d."

"Lovely day," he remarked, his glance making an inspecting sweep of the high blue sky overhead. "Did you order it specially for me?"

"I assumed you did, J.d.," she returned.

He chuckled, a smile spreading over his suntanned and vigorous face, a smile that didn't lessen the shrewdness of his eyes. "Very good, Sondra," he murmured, then introduced her to the slim, sandy-haired man at his side, identifying him simply as Rob Hoeugh, but he had the look of an architect to Sondra. She felt a little rush of anticipation, certain the sale was all but consummated. "During the flight, I had an opportunity to again review the video you sent me--as well as projections for a development on the site. The property appears quite promising."

"Once I have a clear understanding of a buyer's requirements, I do my best to locate a property that will fulfill them. I think you will agree, J.d., that this parcel has the potential to become another Aspen or Snowmass."

"If I didn't think so, Sondra, I wouldn't have worked this stop into my schedule to tour the site for myself."

"Then shall we begin? I have a helicopter waiting." With an outward lift of her hand, she indicated the chopper sitting on the pad some distance from the jet, its rotors whirring in a slow chop-chop, its engine idling. "An aerial view will give you an excellent perspective of the property, both the way it lies and its location in relationship to the area."

"Let's go." Lassiter headed directly toward the motorized cart that waited to transport them to the helicopter.

As soon as they were buckled in, the pilot took off, swinging the enclosed chopper up-valley, overflying Aspen. Earlier in the day, Sondra had gone with the pilot and familiarized him with the ranch's property lines and the areas within its boundaries to which she wanted special attention given. The preparation allowed her to speak with authority when she showed the site to Lassiter, never once resorting to a "maybe"

or "I think that's it."

After Lassiter had seen all he wanted from the air, Sondra tapped the pilot on the shoulder and signaled him to set the chopper down in an open area of the pasture where Warren Oakes waited with a Jeep Wagoneer to take him on a

ground-level tour.

An hour later they all stood in the ranch yard, a survey map of the property spread out on the hood of the Wagoneer. Lassiter ignored it, his attention wandering instead to the grove of white-barked aspen nearly stripped bare of leaves.

His glance ran curiously to Sondra. "Who owns this property?"

"Kit Masters."

"Really?" His eyebrows lifted in a faint show of surprise.

"She inherited it following her father's death a few months ago."

"Is she here?" He glanced at the ranch house.

"No. She made some mention of a tennis match with Travis and the man who heads his production company. I expect she's at the club courts," Sondra replied, then added, "I've found it's usually awkward to have owners present when I'm showing their property to a prospective buyer."

"Of course."

For an instant Sondra thought he was going to take advantage of the opening she'd given him to reaffirm his initial interest in purchasing the property, but Rob Hoeugh picked that moment to call to him. "Can I have a word with you, J.d.?"

"Excuse me." Lassiter joined the man with a quickness that suggested he'd been waiting for Hoeugh's opinion of the site.

Sondra watched with sharpened interest while the two men conferred. Hoeugh did most of the talking, Lassiter most of the nodding. By reputation, J.d. Lassiter was a man who made quick, but not rash, decisions. Once he was wholly satisfied with the feasibility of a given venture, he acted. He never mulled anything over for long periods. Knowing that, Sondra tensed in anticipation when he turned back to her.

"According to this survey, this property extends better than halfway up the ridge on the left," he said.

"That's right." She was puzzled that he should seek clarification of that.

"What about the land on the other side?"

"That's Stone Creek Ranch."

"You get that rancher to sell off the ridge and I'll buy both properties. Without it, I'm not interested."

She was stunned, then angry. Somehow she managed to suppress both and bury her balled fists in the pockets of her coat. "May I ask why?"

"Rob tells me that the ridge affords the best skiing. The other slopes are merely adequate.

Ski runs, ski resorts are his area of expertise. That's why I brought him along. If he says we need it, then we need it."

"I certainly wouldn't disagree with Mr.

Hoeugh," Sondra replied carefully.

"However, if you'll look over some of the proposed development schemes, I think you will see that the ridge area can be much more valuable to you if it's used for an exclusive subdivision, similar in scope. to Starwood."

"Possibly," Rob Hoeugh conceded. "But why would anyone want to buy a

multimillion-dollar second home in a winter resort that can't offer world-class ski trails? Without that, you have nothing to attract them to come in the first place."

"Fortunately that can be corrected by convincing the neighboring rancher to sell me that ridge,"

Lassiter inserted. "It can't be of much use to him anyway."

"Convincing him of that will be difficult, J.d."

She tried to keep the grimness out of her voice without much success. "I can tell you right now he won't sell."

"That's your problem."

"You don't understand. Bannon owns it. I have a better chance of moving that mountain than I do persuading him to sell that ridge."

"Bannon," Lassiter repeated thoughtfully. "He will be a hard nut to crack."

"To put it mildly." She could see the sale slipping away. Her plans. Her dreams. She vibrated with resentment, with anger.

"Tell you what, Sondra. I want this property. I want this project. You talk Bannon into selling off that ridge and I'll make it worth your while. Not only will I give your agency a five-year exclusive contract to sell the various condominium, residential, and commercial sites, but I'll also give you an ownership interest in the whole development. Say

--seven percent?"

A small part of her leapt at the offer that would be a realization of so many of her dreams. Yet she knew, too well, what an immovable object she faced. "That's a very generous incentive, J.d."

"It was meant to be."

She sensed the challenge in his voice and in his look. But it was the faintly superior gleam in his eyes that goaded her.

"I accept your offer." Sondra extended a hand to shake on it.

He gripped it, returning the firm pressure of her fingers. "I have every confidence in your persuasive abilities, Sondra. We both know there are ways to convince someone it's in their best interests to sell."

"True." But how? How could she convince Bannon? How could she reach him? There had to be a way. But what was it?

The same questions still raced through her mind two hours later when she drove into the ranch yard at Stone Creek. She stopped in front of the massive long ranch house, staring at its solidness and thinking bitterly of Bannon, his deep affinity for the land, his implacable will, his quiet strength and blind loyalty. Qualities she'd always admired in him. Qualities that were now her biggest obstacle.

She stepped out of the heated car into the crispening air, her glance running automatically to the rustic log porch, shadowed by the gathering dusk.

The lowing of cattle and the soft whicker of a horse drifted from the outbuildings and pens, background noises to be ignored as she started for the steps, only to stop when she heard her name shouted.

Turning, she saw a small, lumpy figure in a boy's heavy jacket and clumsy rubber boots standing in front of the barn. Laura.

The corners of her mouth curved upward in the smallest of smiles. If Bannon had any vulnerable point, it was his daughter. With eyes darkly gleaming, Sondra raised her hand, returning Laura's wave, and set off to meet her.

With the penned cattle fed, Bannon climbed the pole fence and vaulted lightly to the ground on the other side, feeling the stretch of muscles in his back, arms, and shoulders, the stretch that came from being used. He headed for the barn to see if Laura had finished graining the horses yet. Halfway there, he spotted her standing in the middle of the yard, talking to Sondra. He altered his course to join them.

"Did you get the horses fed?" He dragged off his heavy leather work gloves and rumpled the top of Laura's hair in playful affection, then sent a smile at Sondra, acknowledging her presence.

"Yeah." Laura ducked out from beneath his hand.

"Aunt Sondra's been telling me about all the decorations and music and games she's going to have at her Halloween party next week. Her costume's going to be really neat, too. She wanted to know what yours is. What kind of costume are you going to wear, Dad?"

"It's a surprise." He smiled, then lifted an amused glance to Sondra, catching the watchful stillness of her gaze on him before she tipped her head toward Laura.

"As soon as you find out what he's wearing, you can tell me."

"Okay." Laura grinned with ready conspiracy, then sighed wistfully. "It's going to be so much fun. I wish I was going. I'll be glad when I'm finally grown up and I can go to parties."

"You'll grow up soon enough." Bannon gave her a little push toward the house. "Go wash up and help Sadie get supper on the table."

She swung around, hands on hips. "How come I get all the grown-up work and none of the grown-up fun? It's not fair."

"You'll have fun at Buffy's party."

"It's not the same."

"Then stay home with your granddad."

Laura whirled around, flinging her arms in the air. "Fathers," she muttered in disgust and stalked off toward the house.

"Kids," he murmured to Sondra, more amused by Laura's protest than anything else.

But Sondra didn't respond in kind; instead she gazed thoughtfully after Laura.

"Remember how Diana loved parties and fun, bright lights and laughter. Laura's starting to sound just like her."

"All kids go through that," he said, no longer amused as he struck out for the house, then shortened his brisk stride so Sondra could keep pace.

"What brings you out this way?"

"Business, I'm afraid."

"Afraid?" He shot her a side-glance, curious at her choice of words.

"Yes." Her eyes measured him briefly.

"You aren't going to like this."

"What?"

"I have a client who wants me to find out if you're willing to sell that ridge area that adjoins Silverwood."

"I'm not."

"You haven't even heard his offer, Bannon,"

she reproved mildly.

"It doesn't matter. It isn't for sale at any price."

His tone was flat and final.

"I told him you'd say that."

"Good. Then we can consider the subject closed."

Covertly she studied the sharp angles of his profile, so unyielding and hard. "I wish you'd think about the offer, Bannon."

"There's nothing to think about." The curtness was expected.

"There's Laura."

He stopped and came around, cutting a high shape against the violet eddies of twilight.

"What does Laura have to do with this?"

"She's growing up, Bannon. She's already worrying about clothes and fixing her hair. That's just the beginning. It won't be long before she'll want her own car to drive back and forth to school.

There'll be boys and prom dresses and college

..." Sondra paused deliberately. "All expensive, Bannon."

"I'll manage."

"Maybe." She read the telltale signs in his expression that warned of quiet anger behind the terseness--the tightness at the edges of his mouth, the way his eyes showed darkness below the straight black line of his brows. "But wouldn't it be a lot better if you didn't have to manage?

If you already had the money tucked away? How much land would that ridge area encompass, Bannon?

One hundred acres? Two hundred? What's two hundred acres when you have four thousand? What good is it to you? You can't graze cattle on it, and you don't run sheep. What could be the harm in selling that one chunk?"

"One chunk. That's the way the ranchers down-valley started, by selling their land off one chunk at a time. No thanks."

Just for an instant, impatience broke through.

"You could practically name your own price, Bannon. One million. Two. Think what you could do with that much money. And I don't just mean for Laura. Look at the improvements you could make in the rest of the ranch--the new barns, better breeding stock. You could finally afford to fix up that drafty old house. Or better yet, tear it down and build a new one."

"With a swimming pool and a tennis court?" His challenge was cool and hard.

Sondra realized she'd pushed too much. She waited a beat, then said quietly, "Laura would like that. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth." She went on, without giving him a chance to respond. "Think about the offer, Bannon.

That's all I'm saying. I know how much this land means to you. I admire that. But--be realistic.

What will happen to the ranch when you're gone? Do you think Laura will keep it? Do you think she'll be able to afford to keep it? Isn't it more likely she'll sell it--just as Kit Masters is selling her father's ranch?"

Her words had unsettled him. For now that was enough. With a soft "Good night," she kissed him and left, eyes gleaming.

Giant jack-o'-lanterns carved in gap-toothed grins and grotesque smiles lined the driveway and sidewalks of the house on Red Mountain, sharing the paths with black cats peering out of shocks of cornstalks and scarecrows perched on bales of straw. Holographic ghosts haunted the lawn and shrubbery, materializing and dematerializing at preset intervals.

Near the pool pavilion, glow-in-the-dark skeletons danced to the rhythm of the night wind while a five-piece band pounded out a calypso beat by torchlight and a blonde in a Cat-Woman suit arched low to make it under a limbo pole held by a vampire and a cowboy in wool chaps and a ten-gallon hat.