would be nice if there wasn’t a public road on the north end,” Phillip said.
Zack kicked a clod of dirt from his shoe. “True, but I’ve examined similar issues at other resorts. It doesn’t seem to be a problem if the atmosphere is right, and the situation here is better than most because the road only leads to the public beach.”
“What about the section north of the road? I noticed the old for-sale-by-owner sign is still there. That strip of land is too narrow for the main resort, but the view is spectacular and your guests would love exclusive access to the water.”
Zack suppressed a laugh. Phillip “noticed” that for-sale sign whenever he came to Warrington. “Actually, my real-estate agent is contacting the owner with an offer.”
“Wonderful.”
Zack saw the wheels turning in his architect’s eyes. “Don’t get busy with blueprints,” he warned. “Even if the seller accepts, I can’t afford to develop for at least two years.” If it wasn’t for a recent investment in his portfolio panning out better than expected, he wouldn’t have been able to consider buying the property in the first place.
“What if the owner decides not to sell and builds something that clashes with Mar Vista?” asked Phillip.
Zack grimaced. “My landscape architect and I have a contingency plan. We’re leaving green space with trees where we can plant one of those tall evergreen hedges as a buffer if necessary. It isn’t a great solution, but it would help.”
Phillip whistled. “That’s expensive, particularly if you put in mature bushes.”
“Less expensive than losing the right atmosphere.”
“Can’t argue with that. Well, best of luck. I’ll be back regularly to meet with the contractor and monitor the progress.”
They shook hands, and Zack watched the architect drive away. The roar of the bulldozer drowned out the roar and crash of the ocean, but it was sweet music. In due time Mar Vista would be open for business. He already had stacks of prospective reservations from people who knew him through his years of management at other resorts.
His cell phone rang and he checked the caller ID. It was his real-estate agent.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Zack, it’s Janet Trent,” she said. “I met with George Jenkins, and he’s willing to sell. I floated the lower figure by him so we’d have leeway for bargaining, but he accepted without countering.”
“That’s terrific,” Zack exclaimed.
“George wants the deal to close fast. As I told you, he’s a nutty old coot. Not stupid, though. I tried to convince him to list the property with me several years ago, only he didn’t want to pay the commissions. Now to speed things up he said he won’t ask for a reduction of the agent’s commission for representing the buyer. So, are you sure you want to go ahead?”
Zack rubbed the back of his neck. Spending the majority of his financial reserve was a huge risk. “Will he sell to someone else if I don’t?”
“There’s no telling. The resort is going to raise property values. George hasn’t been well and obviously wants to sell, so he could decide to cash in with another developer.”
Zack winced. A motel or subdivision might be tolerable, but what if it was worse? Images of a cheap trailer park filled his imagination, complete with neon signs and rusty, single-wide trailers crowded too close together. It wasn’t impossible, and something like that could destroy the five-star rating he hoped to earn. He couldn’t risk it happening, even if buying the land left him with little financial cushion.
“Let’s do it,” he told Janet. “Get the documents to me as soon as possible. It’s interesting that he didn’t quibble over the lower offer.”
“Yes. As we discussed, I started at fifty thousand under your top number. I expected to dicker with him for a while, but he just wrote out the parcel numbers and signed the papers.”
An extra fifty thousand in his pocket wasn’t much when it came to a project as big as Mar Vista, but every bit helped.
Zack ended the conversation and switched off the phone with a satisfied smile.
Nothing stood in his way now.
CHAPTER ONE
ZACK CROSSED THE golf course in a loping stride. Now that the resort was open for business, he was too busy for the lengthy runs he liked, so he fit in exercise whenever he could.
The rising sun shot gold rays across the landscape. It was a favorable time of day to take promotional pictures, and he made a mental note to mention it to the photographer. A webcam on the website might also be worthwhile—a long-view camera that showcased the elegant sweep to the Pacific Ocean.
“Hey, boss,” Rick Lopez, the senior groundskeeper, said as Zack got to the seventeenth hole and surveyed the yellow blotches of dying turf, glaring against the surrounding green.
“Have you figured out the issue?”
“Too much fertilizer and it burned the grass. We’ll lay fresh sod immediately. We’re lucky this happened toward the end of the course or the early players would catch us working.”
Zack scanned the nearby scenery. “Are you positive this is the only site?”
“Yep. All clear.”
“Find the idiot responsible and send me a memo.”
Rick bent and pulled at the grass, examining a few blades. “Two of my guys were out here Monday night. The equipment could have malfunctioned. It’s hard to see in the dark and the burns aren’t critical. In most cases I’d let the grass come back on its own. But I’ll follow up.”
Zack nodded and sprinted to his SUV. He knew there wouldn’t be an idiot report. Rick hired his own crew and was loyal to them. He also came as a package—his wife, Trudy, was a top-notch office manager. Zack had lured the duo from a prestigious golf course on the East Coast. It wasn’t easy persuading Rick to make the move, but a hike in salary and the chance to build his reputation at a new California resort had finally won him over. As for Trudy, she was happy as long as she could work in the same location as her husband.
Sliding behind the wheel of his Mercedes SUV, Zack seized the radio microphone.
“Base,” he snapped.
“Good morning, boss,” Trudy answered.
“Has anyone teed off yet?”
“Several went a quarter of an hour ago.”
Zack tensed, despite the situation being under control. “Rick says he’ll resod before they get that far.”
“I can delay them with my Lady Godiva impression,” she offered.
“We don’t have a horse available,” Zack told her, trying to choke down his annoyance. Trudy’s lighthearted approach usually made him smile; lately it was wearing on his nerves. Didn’t anyone else understand how critical it was that the resort run perfectly? It wasn’t just his money on the line—his parents had invested their retirement savings in Mar Vista.
“I’ll take the riding mower. My alabaster skin will look fabulous in the rising sun.”
For a moment Zack wondered what people would think if they overheard this conversation. “Uh...your husband might object.”
“Yeah, he’s a real killjoy. He insists on full safety gear when you roll that shiny machinery out for a spin. I keep telling him that he shouldn’t fuss—I’ve driven everything from an 18-wheeler to a baby carriage.”
Baby carriage...?
Jeez.
Were babies on her mind? The Lopezes didn’t have any kids and had never mentioned starting a family in the years