“Now?” Kira asked.
“Yes!” Santi yelled from the kitchen. “I just need to keep my hands moving. Helps me think. Tell me everything.”
Kira quickly took off her shirt and her shorts and threw on the robe (which was also soft and fluffy, and unsurprisingly had the Hotel Villa logo) before padding into the kitchen, where Santi was bringing out little wheels of cheese, crackers, honey, meats, biscuits. In short, the man was stress making a charcuterie board.
Kira’s heart melted.
“Kira,” Santi said, making her look up suddenly. “Talk to me about Gemini.”
“Here’s the thing,” she began. Then she launched into what she understood, in her words. She talked about the process of making chocolate, why her capital expenses had gone mostly into her equipment (because basically no equipment = no chocolate) and the costs of sourcing her beans elsewhere and making sure that those farms get paid right. She talked about the growth potentials of chocolate worldwide, how the chocolate industry in the Philippines was still big enough that a new player like her could enter, and her plan to create her own market while still playing alongside the Altair Chocolates of the world.
She talked about what the chocolate meant to her, how it had allowed her to make connections with people she would have otherwise lost, how people came to Gemini Chocolates looking for that connection. She talked about how much it meant to her that people were happy because of her chocolate.
“But that’s the emotional appeal. I don’t know the serious, non-personal, businessy appeal,” Kira finished. “My family said I had two choices, to lower my costs or to get more sales. So I need to know if I have enough or if I still need to—”
“You’re fine,” Santi said, finally putting down his fancy cheese knife. “Eat.”
She did. The ham was really good, whatever kind of ham it was. It went well with the grapes. “And contrary to what you think, your situation is not as dire as you think. Yes, the tempering machine set you back, but estimates are a guess. An educated stab in the dark. They’re not supposed to be the bottom line.”
“Exactly, that’s what I thought din!” Kira exclaimed, nodding in agreement. “That’s exactly why it’s called a guesstimate!”
“You gave me your average sales, then the number of custom weddings per year. So I have enough to propose the number of chocolates I need for Villa and La Spezia. Per month, in total, we need...”
He took out his phone and typed while Kira nibbled on brie and spicy honey. It wasdivine. Kira felt a tension in her shoulders loosen, felt her body relax. She knew it wasn’t the cheese, the fluffy robe or the warmth coming back into her toes. It was this, him understanding what she meant when she said that she needed something. His seeing that she knew what she was doing. His speaking business in a way that she fully understood.
Maybe that was what made him so effective at his work. He made things understandable, broke them down into simpler parts. For the first time, Kira felt like someone actually had her back. Someone believed in her.
When he showed her the final number of kilos on the calculator, she nearly dropped the cheese.
“Santi.” She shook her head and waved a pretzel at him. “Are you serious?”
“You know, I’ve never been asked that.” He thoughtfully popped a grape into his mouth. “Ever.”
Kira would not be deterred, though, and was ready to disagree until Santi launched into his explanation.
“Sunday Bakery is having its Grand Opening. They will need at least twice the amount of chocolate they usually need. Villa is going to need thirty percent more than we originally discussed. Gabriel came up with a recipe for this cake for the lobby lounge that is selling out faster than we can make it.” He picked up a slice of cheese. “I’ve talked to Gabriel, the chef at La Spezia, my accountant and my purchasing manager. They said this was what they needed. And before you can say that I’m only saying all of that to help you, I’m telling you, it would be much easier for me to just give you the money to cover that capital expense. It’s not a lot.”
“Santi,” she told him, because somehow she knew he wasn’t kidding. “What are you going to do with all that chocolate?”
“Eat it all if I could,” Santi admitted, chuckling before he pulled the bar of the 60% dark milk chocolate from the pocket of his jeans, and Kira would never be as touched by anything as she was when she realized Santi was carrying around her chocolate in his pants. The thing looked half-empty already. “Villa is launching a breakfast buffet at the Azotea ballroom. A full Pinoy breakfast. The chocolate for tsokolate and champorado alone is a lot. Then there’s the Valentine’s desserts for La Spezia. I predict the tartufo will be a big hit.”
“This isn’t much of a negotiation.”
“I was just trying to illustrate that I needed you. I’m not getting the short end of this deal.” Santi smiled. He pushed the phone toward her. “Now negotiate with me. Price or amount, that’s up to you.”
Kira gave it some thought. She knew the number she needed to make back her capital expenses, and knew how she priced her chocolate to suppliers. She did a little math of her own, and the calculator gave her a monthly addition in sales that made her eyes widen.
“This is...acceptable,” she said, turning the calculator to him. Santi didn’t laugh, didn’t comment how adorable she was when confronted with numbers (because she was). “But specialty orders will have a different price.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “I’ve been hearing things about a white chocolate.”
“That is confidential information, sir.” Kira narrowed her eyes at him and grinned, and he grinned back. Then he took back his phone, and opened his contacts. “What are you doing?”
“Calling my purchasing manager and my lawyer,” he told her. “They have the sales agreements on standby. I want us to be able to sign everything by tomorrow morning.”
Let it be said that Anton Santillan was not the kind of man who believed in waiting. Kira also called up her accountant (Mikaela’s boss) and explained the situation. The rest of their afternoon was spent clarifying details, getting into specific terms of the contract. Anton spoke to his staff, and they narrowed down the numbers, at one point setting a conference call between all the parties. Kira wanted to laugh at the near absurdity of her making a business deal in a bathrobe and tsinelas, but Santi had taken her seriously, argued when he needed to, negotiated when she was asking for too much.
He made her feel like she was his equal. And they were.
