“Ralph Fergus is trying to buy up the entire mountainside,” Mrs. Downey declared bitterly. “He purchased the site of the old mine, and I can’t see what good it will ever do the hotel.”
“You don’t suppose there’s valuable mineral—”
“No,” Mrs. Downey broke in with an amused laugh. “The mine played out years ago.”
“Has Mr. Fergus tried to buy your lodge?”
“He’s made me two different offers. Both were hardly worth considering. If he comes through with any reasonable proposition I may sell. My future plans depend a great deal upon whether or not Peter Jasko is willing to renew a lease on the ski slopes.”
“When does the lease expire, Mrs. Downey?”
“The end of next month. I’ve asked Mr. Jasko to come and see me as soon as he can. However, I have almost no hope he’ll sign a new lease.”
Mrs. Downey carried the tray to the door. There she paused to inquire: “Anything I can bring you, Penny? A book or a magazine?”
“No, thank you. But you might give me my portable typewriter. I think I’ll write a letter to Dad just to remind him he still has a daughter.”
Pulling a table to the bedside, Mrs. Downey placed the typewriter and paper on it before going away. Penny propped herself up with pillows and rolled a blank sheet into the machine.