“For now, those remain untapped.”
“Linda-Sue’s wedding. Her mother came with her today, and added or changed or complained about every damn thing. A waste of mimosas,” Bodine muttered.
“You wanted to manage the place.”
“Yeah, and I love it, even on days like this. Besides, the velvet and the harpist and the gold? They’re Jessica’s problem. The fact she didn’t tell Dolly Jackson to shut the hell up proves I was smart to hire her.”
“Never figured she’d last this long.” Happy with his feet up, he studied the snow falling free outside the window. “And she hasn’t gotten through a Montana winter yet.”
“She’ll last. Why wouldn’t she?”
“City girl. East city.”
“And the best events manager we’ve had since Martha retired five years ago. I don’t have to check and recheck everything she does.”
“You do anyway.”
“Not as much as I did.” She looked out the wide window as Chase did, watched the snow fall against the dark. “We’re in for about a foot. I better text Len, make sure we’re getting the roads plowed.”
“Check and recheck.”
“That’s my job.” Bodine shifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Do you really think they’re up there in the tub together?”
“I’d bet money on it.”
“I don’t think I can go up there yet. I think I’m going to need another glass of wine first.”
“Get me another beer while you’re at it.” His gaze followed hers upward. “I’d just as soon give them another half hour before I head up myself.”
*
Bodine spent most of the next day checking the roads that wound through the resort, approving proposals, putting others on the back burner, and fast-tracking a request for new linens for cabins.
She’d just settled in to review the winter promotions—brochures, mailers, website, Facebook, and Twitter—when Rory strolled in.
He dropped into one of her chairs, sprawled out as if he planned to stay there awhile.
“I’m just taking a last pass at the winter promotions,” Bodine began.
“Good, because we’ve got a new one to plug in.”
“A new what?”
“Idea.” He glanced back with a smile when Jessica came in. “Here she is, my partner in crime. Mom’s tied up, but she’ll swing in if she gets loose.”
“What’s this about? The brochures are scheduled for printing tomorrow, and the spread on the website’s due to go live next week.”
“A few days later isn’t going to matter.”
Knowing that was exactly the wrong way to approach Bodine, Jessica gave Rory’s arm a pat—and a pinch—before she sat. “I think we can build on the interest we’ve generated in the last two years on the Cowboy Cookery event and the Bodine Rodeo.”
“The Bodine Rodeo’s our top-selling annual event,” Rory added. “But only about twenty-five percent who participate or buy tickets stay with us, eat in our restaurants, drink at our bar, use our services.”
“I’m aware, Rory. The bulk of the rodeoers have their own campers or RVs, or they bunk in motels. A lot of the ticket sales are for locals. The June Rope ’n Ride doesn’t generate the same ticket revenue, but pulls in more bookings. Some of it’s just the season.”
“Exactly.” He pointed at her. “Winter season, what have you got? You got snow. And more snow. People coming here from out East or California, they want a cowboy experience, the trail rides, the chuck wagon, buffalo burgers, and they want it with a thick coat of luxury.”
At home in a sales pitch, Rory crossed his fancy Frye boots at the ankles.
“You got some who come wintertime, scoot around on snowmobiles or like to snug up in a cabin and have a massage, but three or four feet of snow puts them off, so we lose that potential revenue. Why not use the snow to add revenue?”
Bodine had learned—though she could admit it had taken a while—not to look at Rory as her baby brother when it came to marketing.
“I’m listening.”
“Snow sculpture competition. A weekend event. Broad pictures? We’ll say four categories. Under twelve, twelve to sixteen, adult, and family. We award prizes, get the local media to cover it. And we offer a discount on cabins to participants for a two-day stay.”
“You want people to build snowmen?”
“Not snowmen,” Jessica put in. “Though that would be an option. Snow art, sculptures, like they do with sand sculpture competitions in Florida. You grid off a few acres, have a section for kids, supervised by staff. You serve hot chocolate and soup.”
“Snow cones.”
“Snow cones.” Rory shook his head at his sister. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“We provide tools—shovels, spades, palette knives, that sort of thing,” Jessica continued, “but the competitors have to come up with their own ornamentation, if they want to. We hold a meet and greet Friday night, assign locations, kick it off nine sharp Saturday morning.”
“You’re going to need activities for the younger kids,” Bodine considered. “Short attention spans, right? And they’d need to get out of the cold with something to do, foods, snacks. Adults, too, not planned activities, but a lot of them might want breaks.”
“We set up a buffet in the Feed Bag. Maybe some heated tents for neck and shoulder massages. I can work out activities for kids.” Jessica frowned. “Stick with the winter theme. We could offer sleigh rides for an additional fee. We have a party, with entertainment, Saturday night, announce the winners, award the prizes.”
“I like the concept, but you’re going to have to refine the details, the sales pitch, and the price points pretty quick. Get some photos. Snow Sculpture Extravaganza works better than competition.”
“Damn it, it does,” Rory agreed. “I guess that’s why you’re the boss.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
“Let me start on those details.” Pocketing her phone, Jessica stood up. “Rory, how about we put our heads together in about an hour and nail it all down?”
“I can do that.” He watched her go, turned back to smile at his sister. “She sure smells good.”
“Seriously?”
With his million-dollar smile beaming, Rory wiggled his eyebrows. “Seriously good.”
“She’s too old for you—and too classy.”
“Age is just a state of mind, and I got plenty of class when I need it. Not that I’m looking to go there,” he added. “Just saying what is.” He pushed to his feet. “You know, I can market the hell out of this.”
He could, she thought. And he would. “See that it pays for itself,” she warned him.
“Bean counter.”
“Daydreamer. Get. I’ve got work.”
More of it now, she thought, looking back at her computer screen and the current layout of the brochure.
They’d need to change the layout with this addition to their promotions and events, and do all of that with enough lead time to draw solid bookings.