“Good for you, Grandfather!” muttered Sara under her breath.
The two men pretended not to hear. Mr. Maxwell took a folded document from his pocket and spread it out on the kitchen table.
“Will you just read this, please, Mr. Jasko? You’ll find our terms are more than generous.”
“I ain’t interested in your terms,” he snapped. “I’m aimin’ to keep every acre of my land.”
“We’re not asking you to sell, only to lease,” Mr. Fergus interposed smoothly. “Now we understand that your deal with Mrs. Downey has fallen through, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t lease the ski slopes to us. We are prepared to offer you twice the amount she proposed to give you.”
Mr. Jasko stubbornly shook his head.
“You’re taking a very short-sighted attitude,” said Ralph Fergus, beginning to lose patience. “At least read the paper.”
“No.”
“Think what this would mean to your granddaughter,” interposed Harvey Maxwell. “Pretty clothes, school in the city perhaps—”
“Don’t listen to them, Grandfather,” spoke Sara quickly. “I have enough clothes. And Pine Top school suits me.”