Breaking Point

capital to put into the deal. Sheridan was about to start her second year at the University of Wyoming, and both April and Lucy were on deck. Marybeth’s part-time salary at the library was small, and Joe’s game warden salary was hostage to an agency-wide freeze. Because of all that, though, Marybeth was frustrated with their situation—living in the battered state-owned home, scrapping for a better life—and wanted to break out of it. And she wanted to show her daughters that rewards could come by hard work and risk, especially since the only person of wealth they had known was Marybeth’s mother, Missy, who’d acquired a fortune by trading up husbands for richer and richer men.
    She told Donnell she’d consider it, and he said he’d get the paperwork going for the Saddlestring Hotel Development Limited Liability Company.
    Joe and Marybeth stayed up late that night, and the more she thought about it and they talked about it, the more excited she got. Donnell’s role was finance, compliance, permits, and materials, and her role would be restoration, recruiting, and administration. She loved the idea.
    The deal wasn’t in place yet, and Marybeth wanted the advice of her friend before she proceeded, which is why she’d invited Dulcie to tour the building.
    “So do you know what the sirens were about?” she asked Dulcie.
    “Not yet. If it’s something important, they’ll call me.”
    Marybeth slipped a rubber band off a roll of blueprints to show Dulcie the plans.
    Dulcie smiled. “If I was married to Joe Pickett, I’d probably be hyperalert as well.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    —
    “I F WE DO THIS, we’d have to gut all the old rooms and knock down half of the walls between them,” Marybeth said, tracing with her finger on the blueprints, which were spread over an old door propped up by sawhorses.
    “The last owners turned the place into a flophouse for transients and day workers,” she said. “We want to restore it to its old glory.”
    She pointed to one spot on the blueprints. “We’d convert the old lobby into a central reception area,” she said. “That way, we can offer the individual office holders a shared receptionist and secretarial services.”
    Dulcie nodded approvingly. “So you’re thinking of gathering up some of the folks who are doing business in spare rooms and old houses, then? Architects, lawyers, insurance guys?”
    “Exactly,” Marybeth said. “The types who want a turnkey operation in a really cool environment. I know this is the kind of place I wish had been available when I had MBP,” she said, referring to the business consulting firm she’d founded and run for years before the economy sank. “Of course, first we need to get it ready for business.”
    Dulcie put her hands on her hips and looked around, squinting. “It would really do wonders for Saddlestring and revitalize the downtown,” she said. “Right now, this place just sits here like an old drunk on the corner. I’m trying to picture what it could be like.”
    “You really need to use your imagination,” Marybeth said, deadpan.
    There was so much work to be done inside—battered plaster wallboard would have to be replaced, ceilings raised, new plumbing and electricity installed—although they’d recently been encouraged when a structural engineer confirmed that the foundation’s overall structural integrity was solid. In order to keep costs low, Marybeth planned to do as much of the preliminary work herself with help from Joe at night and on weekends. Matt Donnell wasn’t much of a hand when it came to carpentry or renovation, although he certainly put in the hours. Matt was better at dealing with local, state, and federal agencies that required permits and approvals. In fact, Matt was meeting with the building inspector and state fire marshal that afternoon. He’d confided to Marybeth that he had great relationships with the right people who could sign off on the permits.
    Dulcie pointed at a large bouquet of flowers on the mantel of the old fireplace. “Those brighten up the place,” she said. “Who sent them?”
    “Read the card.”
    Dulcie read: “‘Congratulations on your new hotel, Marybeth. I’m proud of you. Love, Joe.’”
    “Awwwww,” she said.
    “I told him we can’t afford flowers right now, but it’s nice.”
    “This is the kind of place where I’d love to work,” Dulcie said, imagining it. “It would be so much better than those cells they give us in the