At twelve twenty-one, the numbers were good.
Nella stared at the total.
Her throat moved once. “This is good.”
“It really is.”
“It’s not enough.”
“No.”
“But it’s good.”
“It’s very good.”
She rubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them to the counter. “I hate that your uncle can make good news feel like a trap.”
“I hate that too.”
She held my gaze. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
Neither of us moved.
Uncle Sal’s name filled the screen.
Nella straightened on the stool. “Speaker.”
I answered and set the phone down between us. “Sal.”
“Numbers.”
Nella picked up the top sheet. “Closed card batches matched to the reader. Cash count separated. Food sales were strong, drink sales were stronger, and the payment toward principal is marked on the deposit note.”
“Amounts,” Uncle Sal said.
“You’ll get the written totals in the morning packet,” she said. “Tonight, you get confirmation that the numbers match.”
“Nico.”
“She’s right,” I said. “The batches match. Cash is separated. The payment line is clear.”
Nella slid the top sheet closer to the phone. “And before you ask, no, I’m not giving you a guess I have to correct after the bank deposit posts.”
Uncle Sal went quiet long enough for the fan to click twice.
Then he said, “So the place can earn.”
“Yes,” Nella said. “That was the point.”
“No,” Uncle Sal said. “The point was leverage.”
Nella flattened her fingers on the counter beside the cash drawer.
I leaned toward the phone. “She made a strong payment case tonight.”
