Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [42]
“Jake’s settlement offer? Settlement meeting tomorrow?” I’m trying to be helpful without sounding snide.
“Yes, yes,” he says, focusing. “I got their proposal, and it seems they want to wrap this up as quickly as possible, which we can use, by the way. Yup. They are in a big hurry. Okay, let’s see . . .” I can hear him flipping through pages. “Well, the biggest development is that they’ve made us an offer, and a serious one, I think, to buy your share of Grappa: $950,000, with $250,000 up front and the rest over four years.”
“The nerve of him! He won’t buy me out—I’ll buy him out! And anyway, Jake doesn’t have that kind of money. What kind of game is he playing?”
“Mira, you own a successful restaurant in the heart of Manhattan that is grossing over three million per year. Even allowing reasonable salaries for you and Jake, at least ten percent of that is pure profit. We have a consultant, a CPA, on retainer in the office. I showed him Grappa’s financials, and he’s sure Jake can borrow that much, even more, based on the restaurant receipts alone. The offer is too low, but at least it’s a serious opening. Anyway, there’s more. They propose you take over the lease on the apartment; all outstanding credit card debt is to be split jointly; you get the Italian poster collection; he wants the season tickets to the Met. Add the price from the buyout, plus child support, and you are sitting pretty. In terms of a counteroffer, here’s what I propose—”
“Hold on a minute, Jerry. I’m not selling the restaurant. I don’t want to be bought out. And even if I did consider selling my share, I wouldn’t sell it to Jake. No way. Selling out, particularly to Jake, means the end of everything. No, I want Grappa, Jerry. Make it happen.”
Jerry doesn’t say anything right away. After a pause, he says, “Look, Mira, I’ll do whatever you want, but have you really thought about what this means? After all, you’ve got a baby to raise, and the money from a buyout could give you time to be at home with her. You could take a breather, figure out what you want to do, and still have capital to invest in a new venture if you want. I don’t know, but if I were you, I’d at least consider it.”
A new venture? Starting up a new restaurant? “No way, Jerry. I can’t do another restaurant. It is a tough market; the start-up costs are prohibitive, not to mention the hours, the personal investment. Not while Chloe is a child. Grappa is well established, is operating in the black, and unless we keep screwing it up, we’ve got a loyal following. I’d be a fool to let it go.”
“Jake will never agree to work for you. You’d lose him as chef.”
“Just like he’d lose me if I sold to him. And with the extra hundred thousand or so Jake won’t be taking out of the profits, I can look for someone really great. Or, better yet, promote Tony. He’s been practically running the place as it is.”
Quite frankly, I am offended by Jerry’s attitude. I’m Grappa, not Jake. Why doesn’t he see this? Sure, Jake can cook; sure, he’s great under pressure in the kitchen, but great chefs do not necessarily make great business people. From the first, I’ve been the one to attend to the thousands of details, to run the business, to make sure we got some publicity, to schmooze with regular clients, and to add, I think, my own innovative approach to the preparation and delivery of the food.
Could it be because I’m a woman? I should be willing to cut Jerry some slack—he doesn’t know much about the industry, and his comments may just be a knee-jerk reaction from a lawyer accustomed to representing the wives of wealthy executives. But this is my future we’re talking about. I’m impatient and in no mood to walk him, a relative outsider, through the complicated inner workings of the restaurant world.
“Look, Jerry, this isn’t just a whim of mine. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I had just hoped that Jake and I would be able to work it out . . .” I say, suddenly embarrassed, “with Grappa.”
I can hear him exhale into