«You’re not allowed at our vacation home,» Mom texted. A week later, they got a notice: the resort had a new owner. Their access cards stopped working…

How quickly can I liquidate 3 million in stocks? I asked without preamble. A couple of days. But why would you want to? The tech sector is performing well right now and your portfolio.

What about 15 million? Silence. Then, Harper, what’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble? Just the opposite. I think I found an investment opportunity.

How soon can you meet? Monday morning, Garrett sat across from me in his midtown office reviewing property prospectus materials I’d gathered overnight. A resort? Harper, hospitality is completely outside your expertise. The maintenance costs alone on a property this size.

The current owner has kept detailed financial records. I interrupted, sliding a spreadsheet across the desk. The property is undervalued because he hasn’t modernized or maximized revenue streams.

There’s huge potential for expanded shoulder season bookings with the right marketing approach. Garrett studied the numbers, frowning. Even so, this would be committing a significant portion of your net worth to a single illiquid asset.

After taxes on your acquisition payout, 20 million isn’t as much as it sounds for someone your age. I don’t need to buy it outright. I can leverage financing for part of it.

And this has nothing to do with your family vacationing there next week. Garrett raised an eyebrow. Zoe must have told her husband who played golf with Garrett monthly.

I met his gaze steadily. It’s a sound business decision with personal benefits. By that afternoon, I had approval to liquidate enough stocks to make a competitive offer.

I chartered a private flight to Portland, Maine for that evening. The next morning, I met Frank Williams at Blue Water Cove. He was in his 70s with weathered skin from decades of coastal living and kind eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

Miss Johnson, your family has been coming here for years. Your mother always insists on Villa Serenity. He chuckled.

I didn’t realize you were the same Johnson from that tech company sale. Impressive achievement for someone so young. We walked the grounds as he shared the resort’s history from its origins as a small into the luxury destination it had become under his stewardship.

My wife passed three years ago. He explained as we toured the main lodge. She was the heart of this place.

Without her, it doesn’t feel right continuing. But I’ve been waiting for the right buyer, someone who understands the soul of Blue Water Cove. Frank showed me everything, not just the pristine public areas, but the aging infrastructure behind the scenes.

The kitchen equipment needing updates, the staff quarters requiring renovation, the booking system still partially managed on paper. Why not sell to a hotel chain? I asked as we walked along the private beach. They’d certainly pay premium.

Frank remaced. Had offers. Hilton, Four Seasons.

They’d gut the character, standardize everything. Our repeat guests come for the unique experience. Like your family, 20 years of memories in the same villa.

I felt a pang at that. 20 years of memories I was now excluded from. As the sun set, we sat on the deck of the main restaurant overlooking the harbor.

Frank shared the resort’s financials, the summer season profitability, the winter struggles, the untapped potential for weddings and corporate retreats. The asking price is $18.5 million, he said finally. But for the right buyer, someone who’ll preserve what matters while bringing fresh ideas.

I might be flexible. That night, I stayed in Villa Serenity, the same villa my family would occupy in just five days. I walked the familiar rooms, running my fingers along the weathered wooden furniture, standing on the porch where we’d taken 20 years of family photos.

Instead of feeling sad, I felt a growing sense of determination. This place had always represented the brief moments when my family functioned as a unit. What if I could transform it into something that represented my independence instead? I called my lawyer, Diane, from the villa’s porch, the sound of waves crashing below…