Chapter 4
For the first time, Mara had no immediate answer.
Nolan reached into his coat and placed a revised document on the counter.
“What is this?”
“New proposal.”
She did not touch it.
“What changed?”
“Read it.”
“I have tables waiting.”
“I'll wait.”
“You'll wait?”
“Yes.”
She looked around the diner.
“Fine.”
She pointed toward a booth.
“Table twelve.”
Nolan stood.
“And Nolan?”
He turned.
“If you're going to occupy a table for two hours, you're ordering food.”
“What do you recommend?”
“Everything you probably haven't eaten since becoming unbearable.”
For the first time that morning, he almost smiled.
---
Mara read the new proposal during her break.
By page six, she realized Nolan had changed nearly everything.
Ortega Woodworks would retain its manufacturing facility for a guaranteed minimum of ten years.
No involuntary layoffs resulting from the acquisition for thirty-six months.
Existing health benefits protected.
Pensions protected.
A worker retraining fund.
Profit-sharing.
Gabriel Ortega would retain operational control for five years.
And there was something else.
Mara read clause 14.7 twice.
Then a third time.
She walked back into the diner.
Nolan was eating pancakes.
Badly.
She dropped the contract beside his plate.
“What is this?”
He glanced at the clause.
“Employee Continuity Trust.”
“I can read.”
“I've been told.”
“Thirty million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Funded by Pierce North?”
“Yes.”
“Independent trustees?”
“Yes.”
“And if you violate the employment guarantees, the workers receive the money?”
“Correct.”
Mara stared at him.
“You did this overnight?”
“My attorneys did.”
“How many attorneys do you have?”
“Enough that they become surprisingly efficient when I start calling at four in the morning.”
She sat opposite him.
“Why?”
Nolan put down his fork.
“Because promises from men like me are worthless unless breaking them is expensive.”
Mara said nothing.
That answer she understood.
“Gabriel still might say no.”
“I know.”
“And if he does?”
Nolan looked at her.
“I leave him alone.”
She searched his face.
“You mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She stood.
“Meeting's at eleven?”
“Eleven.”
“I finish here at ten thirty.”
“My car will—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I'll drive myself.”
“Mara—”
“I am not arriving at Gabriel Ortega's factory in a billionaire's car.”
Nolan considered that.
“Fair.”
“And you're paying for the pancakes.”
“I assumed.”
“And twenty percent.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Twenty percent what?”
“Tip.”
He looked offended.
“I know what a tip is.”
“I'm not convinced.”
---
Gabriel Ortega did not smile when Nolan entered the conference room.