Breaking Point

Nazi. He said we need to install a sprinkler system throughout the building, even though it’s historic. We kind of figured on that, and I’d priced it in,” he said, looking to Marybeth for confirmation. She nodded.
    “But he threw me a curve,” he said.
    Marybeth cut in, still angry. “So in order for us to install the sprinkler system we have to make sure none of the old paint contains any lead, which means we have to hire special testing crews to take samples and analyze the old paint before we can do anything.”
    “What a pain,” Joe said. “But weren’t you going to repaint anyway?”
    “Of course,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter that we weren’t going to keep any of the old paint. And it doesn’t matter that in eighty years of people using this building, nobody ate any paint chips and got sick from it.”
    Donnell rolled his eyes and said, “They’re worried flakes of the paint will come off when we strip it and kids will eat them, I guess. So we have to hire guys in hazmat suits and with special certification to strip the walls.”
    Before Joe could speak, Donnell said, “And that’s not the worst of it.”
    “Tell him the worst of it, Matt,” Marybeth said.
    “He’s worried about asbestos in these old buildings. The wallboards and the insulation might have asbestos in them. The shingles, too. And all of the wiring needs to be replaced.”
    Joe said, “So they want you to gut the entire building?”
    “Worse,” Donnell said. “We have to hire a specially certified asbestos-removal company to gut the entire structure down to the bricks and framing. Then we can’t proceed until the fire marshal sends up his own personal inspector from Cheyenne to give us a permit.”
    Joe understood the look of panic in Marybeth’s eyes now.
    “And we can’t do any of the work ourselves,” Marybeth said, “because we don’t have certified training or licenses.” Then, to Matt: “Tell him about these certified asbestos-removal companies.”
    Matt sighed and looked away. “There aren’t any.”
    Joe said, “What?”
    “The closest one is in Salt Lake City,” Donnell said. “They’re backed up for eighteen months. And the cost of getting them up here to all but demolish the hotel . . .”
    “. . . is more than Matt paid for it,” Marybeth finished for her partner. “All these new costs are way beyond what we budgeted to rebuild the hotel.”
    “Oh, man,” Joe said, rubbing his face. He’d forgotten about the gunshot burn on the side of his head, and it stung when he touched it.
    Donnell said, “No bank is going to even talk to us until we have all the permits and sign-offs.”
    He stepped back and raised both of his hands, palms up, toward the old vaulted ceilings.
    Donnell said, “I’ve been buying and selling real estate in this valley for twenty-five years. There have been up and down years, but it was based on free market. It’s just the way it is, and I never bitched about the bad years because the good years made up for them, and I always knew that if I worked hard and didn’t screw anyone, I’d succeed—and I have, up to now.”
    Joe interrupted and asked, “What’s it going to cost, Matt?”
    Donnell made a pained face and said, “If I were to guess, I’d say rebuilding this hotel like we wanted it will cost us four times more than we thought and take three times as long.”
    Joe narrowed his eyes. Marybeth looked stricken. He wanted to knock Matt Donnell’s head off. He said, “You’re supposed to be the expert here. You’re supposed to know this stuff. Marybeth trusted you.”
    “I know,” Donnell said, lowering his arms and listing his head slightly to the side as if defeated already. “This wasn’t my first rodeo. But it’s the first time I ever tried to rebuild a historic building. I thought the bureaucrats would want to
help
us. I honestly thought—and I remember telling your wife this—that removing the blight from the middle of a small town and building a business incubator in its place would be cheered on. I had no idea they’d throw every possible regulation and roadblock in our way.”
    Joe still wanted to punch him.
    “Look,” Donnell said, “thousands of people passed through this hotel over the years. They ate and slept here, and nobody got sick or died. But all of a sudden, when we want to fix it up so people can use it again, it’s considered a goddamned death trap. It’s like it’s painted with poison and infested with