I know business is business, but I’ve never had a deal go south. And I’m not going to stand by and let this one fizzle away, costing my company hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost profits and legal expenses. All the contracts we’ve signed. But this deal falling apart won’t just cost hundreds of thousands. At the end of the day, this could be a seven-figure catastrophe for my company—with my name all over it.
I wrap myself in a towel and rage-dry my hair. As I’m brushing my teeth, I grab my phone and think about texting Benny. My gut wants to vent to him. Tell him what’s going on. But if this deal falls apart, I’ll be leaving Star Falls.
The longer I think about it, the more enraged I am. I have to stop myself from stomping all over the condo because I might have downstairs neighbors still at home.
I’m dressed in jeans and eating some yogurt in front of my laptop when I get an instant message on our corporate messaging system from Alex.
Alex: Theresa says yes, keep the grant open.If we go to litigation, we’ll include the grant as damages.
Damages.
Fuck.
I message her back, but my heart’s not feeling very thankful.
Me:Thanks so much, A.
Enraged, I sort through my emails for the contact number I have for the granddaughter of the founder of Pancake Circus.The woman who wanted this deal to go through and who now wants out.
I find not only her email but her personal cell phone. I grab my phone, punch in the number, and without hesitating, hit call.
Theresa may not be able to call her as long as she has an attorney, but I’m the one who met with this woman countless times. I’m the one who listened to her—in our offices back in Chicago—when she changed her mind and decided she wanted to pursue her dreams of owning her own place. I’m the one who championed this deal with Culinary Capital. If she wants out, I’m the one she should be explaining herself to.
It rings once, twice, and then a third time.
“Hello?” A hurried-sounding voice that most definitely does not belong to Audrina Kincade answers.
“Hello, may I speak with Audrina, please?” I try not to sound pissed. I try to sound professional. Pleasant, even.
“She can’t come to the phone right now,” the voice on the other end says. “Can I tell her who’s calling?”
I hesitate, but instead of saying the company, I just give her my name. “This is Willow Watkins.”
“Just a moment, please.” The woman must not even set the phone down because I hear a muffled sound, and then she calls to Audrina.
I can hear the conversation almost as clearly as if I’m on speaker.
“It’s who?”
That’s Audrina. I recognize her voice.
“Willow? Do you have a friend Willow, honey? I don’t know who that is…”
Whoever answered Audrina’s phone is not her mother, and she doesn’t sound old enough to be her grandmother. Where the hell is she, and who is answering her phone?
“Come on,” I beg, whispering my prayer to the heavens. “Just talk to me, Audrina. Just come to the phone.”
But then I hear Audrina’s voice as if she’s right there in the same room with me.
“Willow is the restaurant woman,” she hisses. “From Culinary Capital. Hang up. Just hang up on her.”
And the next thing I know, after a flurry of sounds, the call goes silent.
So much for talking to Audrina.
Just as I’m about to accept defeat, I see an email pop up from Theresa marked confidential and proprietary. I open it immediately and read it out loud.
Kincade family attorney has agreed to give me a demand letter within two weeks. Stand down until then. Slow as much work as you can without alarming the contractors. If we can resolve this, I don’t want to fall too far behind. Stall the grant, but we’ll honor it. Just sit tight. We’ll know more in two weeks.
