Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [45]
“Well, then, that takes care of that,” says Ethan. “I think we can move on. Have you given any consideration to my client’s offer to buy out your client’s share of the restaurant for $950,000? I think you’ll agree $950,000 is a generous offer.”
“Ethan,” Jerry says, shaking his head and clucking at him like an admonishing parent. “Generous? Do you really think so?”
“We don’t just think it, we know it.”
“I’m curious, just how did you arrive at that number? Did you just pull it ‘out of the air’ or was that based on a careful economic review of the financials?” Jerry leans forward and furrows his brow, apparently enjoying himself.
“I can assure you that we did a thorough review of the financials, and that review confirms that this buyout price is more than fair. Quite generous, in fact,” Ethan says, picking up confidence as he hears himself talk.
“Okay, great. Your word is good enough for me. In that case, my client will agree to the price. Only we will suggest just one change. Instead of Mr. Shaw buying Ms. Rinaldi out, Ms. Rinaldi will buy Mr. Shaw out—at this very generous price.”
I cannot help feeling respect and admiration for Jerry’s skill as the trap is sprung. Ethan’s broad smile quickly changes to a surprised scowl as it visibly dawns on him that he has been hoisted on his own petard. Jake, who is slower on the uptake, just sits with his jaw hanging wide open.
This is why I’m paying Jerry five hundred dollars an hour.
Jerry finishes with a cavalier shake of his head and lifts his open palms as if to say, “Who knew?” Jake exhales forcibly, his mouth now set in a grim line. Despite what a “generous” offer it is, for some reason Ethan does not even have to consult with his client before responding: “No deal.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like the number?” Jerry’s voice is light, teasing even, a look of feigned surprise slowly spreading across his well-trained face.
I can detect a thin, almost imperceptible sheen of sweat on Jake’s furrowed brow. I can feel his eyes on me, too. Determined not to meet his gaze, I busy myself with removing stray traces of dried pasta dough from beneath my fingernails. Jake scribbles a note and passes it to Ethan. Ignoring Jerry’s challenge, Ethan uses the note as an excuse to regroup. “Please give me a moment to confer with my client,” he says.
After a brief, whispered conference, Ethan turns to Jerry and says, a little too good-naturedly, “We are approaching year’s end, and my client feels that the financials we have to date may not anticipate the profits realized by the last quarter, and that, as you know, will impact the value of the buyout. Somehow, despite the economy, all signs indicate the biggest year for Grappa yet. So it seems that the number we have previously given you, while more than generous based on historical statistics, in fact”—Ethan pauses to clear his throat—“may not have adequately valued Grappa’s future potential.”
“Okay, so give us a new number.” Jerry leans back into his swivel chair, removes his glasses, and carefully chews the plastic-coated earpiece.
This time Ethan looks at Jake, who gives a slight shake of the head. “Before we get to throwing out numbers here, I think we need to clarify exactly whose offer is on the table. Who is buying out whom?”
Without realizing it, I’ve been holding my breath, and as this last, thinly concealed challenge is tossed our way by Ethan Bowman, I exhale deeply, audibly. Jerry glances at me and flashes me a cautionary look.
“Exactly,” says Jerry, who begins to rock gently in his swivel chair, letting the single word he has spoken hang