“Yes.”
“And you want to build a beautiful new hotel?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“Were you interested in building or acquiring something in the inner city area, Miss Cameron?”
“Of course not,” Lara said. “What I have in mind is exactly the opposite. I want to build an exclusive boutique hotel in a nice area that…”
“With an equity of three million dollars?” Parker chuckled. “I’ m afraid we’re not going to be able to help you.”
“Thank you,” Lara said. She replaced the receiver. She had obviously called the wrong broker.
She went back to the yellow pages again and made half a dozen more calls. By the end of the afternoon Lara was forced to face reality. None of the brokers was interested in trying to find a prime location where she could build a hotel with a down payment of three million dollars. They had offered Lara a variety of suggestions, and they had all come down to the same thing: a cheap hotel in an inner city area.
Never, Lara thought. I’ll go back to Glace Bay first.
She had dreamed for months about the hotel she wanted to build, and in her mind it was already a reality—beautiful, vivid, three-dimensional. Her plan was to turn a hotel into a real home away from home. It would have mostly suites, and each suite would have a living room and a library with a fireplace in each room, and be furnished with comfortable couches, easy chairs, and a grand piano. There would be two large bedrooms and an outside terrace running the length of the apartment. There would be a Jacuzzi and a minibar. Lara knew exactly what she wanted. The question was how she was going to get it.
Lara walked into a printshop on Lake Street. “I would like to have a hundred business cards printed up, please.”
“Certainly. And how will the cards read?”
“ ‘Miss Lara Cameron,’ and at the bottom, ‘Real Estate Developer.’ ”
“Yes, Miss Cameron. I can have them for you in two days.”
“No. I would like them this afternoon, please.”
The next step was to get acquainted with the city.
Lara walked along Michigan Avenue and State Street and La Salle, strolled along Lake Shore Drive and wandered through Lincoln Park with its zoo and golf course and lagoon. She visited the Merchandise Mart and went to Kroch-Brentano’s and bought books about Chicago. She read about the famous who had made Chicago their home: Carl Sandburg, Frank Lloyd Wright, Louis Sullivan, Saul Bellow. She read about the pioneer families of Chicago—the John Bairds and Gaylord Donnelleys, the Marshall Fields and Potter Palmers, and Walgreens—and she passed by their homes on Lake Shore Drive and their huge estates in suburban Lake Forest. Lara visited the South Side, and she felt at home there because of all the ethnic groups: Swedes, Poles, Irish, Lithuanians. It reminded her of Glace Bay.
She took to the streets again, looking at buildings with For Sale signs, and she went to see the listed brokers. “What’s the price of that building?”
“Eighty million dollars…”
“Sixty million dollars…”
“ A hundred million dollars…”
Her three million dollars was becoming more and more insignificant. Lara sat in her hotel room considering her options. Either she could go to one of the slum sections of the city and put up a little hotel there, or she could return home. Neither choice appealed to her.
I’ve too much at stake to give up now, Lara thought.
The following morning Lara stopped in at a bank on La Salle Street. She walked up to a clerk behind the counter. “I would like to speak to your vice-president, please.”
She handed the clerk her card.
Five minutes later she was in the office of Tom Peterson, a flaccid middle-aged man, with a nervous tic. He was studying her card.
“What can I do for you, Miss Cameron?”
“I’m planning to put up a hotel in Chicago. I’ll need to borrow some money.”
He gave her a genial smile. “That’s what we’re here for. What kind of hotel were you planning to build?”
“A beautiful boutique hotel in a nice area.”
“Sounds interesting.”