Mica just rubs his belly and shrugs. “I could eat.”
***
We end up at the same pub we went to before and end up sitting at the same table. I order without looking at the menu. Mica orders coffee and something with eggs and opens the quarterly summary on his phone before our drinks arrive.
“The Titan Pantry contract is the one up for renewal,” I explain. “I’m pretty sure it will renew, but I need to go into that negotiation with enough information to prove our worth or they might try to push the rate down. We can’t afford to let that happen.”
“What’s the current rate per delivery?” he asks.
He scrolls through his phone for a moment and then runs numbers through his calculator.
“You’re about eight percent below market rate for a refrigerated route that distance. You could make a case for a rate increase at renewal, based on fuel hikes over the last year and market increases. They’d have a hard time finding comparable service, much less a cheaper alternative.”
A feeling of dread churns in my stomach at the thought of a rate hike. “Vulture never raised the rate on them.”
“Vulture also never had a twelve-month performance clause hanging over his head,” he points out.
I take a sip of my coffee. “He built those contracts through relationships he’d cultivated over thirty years. They don’t know me. I’ve barely talked to anyone at Titan Pantry and have had zero contact with the decision makers there. Asking for a rate increase this early is risky for a woman in my position.”
Mica sets his phone down. “Take it from your new accountant, asking for a fair rate increase during a contract renewal is just business as usual,” he says. “They’ll respect you for asking for what your services are worth. Titan Pantry has had the same vendor for twenty years at below-market rates. They’re not going to walk over eight percent.”
“You can’t know that. I mean, how can you be sure?”
“I can’t, but my business sense and the numbers suggest it. I honestly think you’re taking less of a chance than you think.”
I think over his words as our food arrives. We end the conversation about whether or not to ask for a rate increase, and I pull out my laptop so we can go through the contract, page by page. Come to find out, my new husband is worth his weight in gold when it comes to the financial side of running my businesses. We even discuss the part-time driver situation and the repairs I need to make on the refrigerated truck. He suggests that we finance the repairs, so it doesn’t hit our bottom line when we’re struggling to prove solvency.
He reaches for the check when it comes, but I get there first.
He gestures to the check in my hand. “Your money is yours,” he says. “As long as you’re my wife, I’m paying.”
“I just signed documents giving me account access this morning.”
“And I’m glad for you,” he says. “Give me the check.”
“I have it.”
“Nova.”
There’s something in how he says my name that makes continuing the argument feel like I’m challenging his manhood or something.
“That’s a very traditional position.”
“I went to college for six years and passed my CPA exam so I could support my wife and kids when the time came,” he says dryly.
Something about his words tugs at my emotions. It’s kind of nice that he wants to be a good provider. Some lucky woman is going to admire that quality in him. When I hand him the check, he pays without making a production of it.
We make it back to the clubhouse. There is fire burning in the fireplace and the smell of fresh cut wood burning is amazing. I might not truly belong here, but I’m starting to grow a certain fondness for his club.
Mica walks me through the main room and stops at the hallway that leads to the chapel. Glancing at his watch, he tells me, “I have an officer’s meeting. I shouldn’t be long.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. Mac is handling things at work this morning. He’ll lock up when everyone is on the road.
He holds my gaze for a half second before saying, “Does this mean you have a day off?”
“I’m afraid not. There’s no rest for the wicked. I need to process payroll for the drivers this morning. I’m tired of hanging out in our suite like a hermit, so I’ll just grab a table and work on my laptop.”
He surprises me by leaning over and giving me a chaste little kiss on the lips. I freeze for just a second before realizing this is us acting like a newly married couple in front of his club brothers. When he pulls back, I smile up at him and say playfully, “Don’t be too long. Your wife needs your attention today.”
