Chapter 9 Cancel Everything!
CANCEL EVERYTHING!
Rosalind
Rosalind might not have had a desk, but the rarely used table in the meeting room more than sufficed when she had work spread across half the surface.
That corner was for the sponsorship contracts with her handwriting sprawled in the margins.
The other corner was her list of questions she was absolutely going to get around to asking the other women, when she found time to see them…
some day. She was going to have to get fitted for a fundraiser outfit soon.
Maybe she could visit after getting measured by Kat.
She added the task to her mental list then refocused on the work in front of her.
Mozke had been a tremendous help with reviewing her proposal notes for the art district, even fetching old ledgers and historical documents from Scholar’s Hall, in spite of the clear stamps that said they were not to be removed from the building.
“I know a demon,” was all Mozke said about that.
So Rosalind took great care to minimize her sweaty fingerprints on the edges of the parchment, comparing business transactions and city repair requests and all manner of lack of funding responses that she could not verify.
“I don’t understand,” she muttered to herself, once again going through the line items. “Where is this money going?”
Every time she reached the end, the trail ran cold, and her migraine was only getting worse.
The answer, she knew, was going to see the Horn of Finance.
Tarzul would have more up-to-date records to help her sort out this mess.
But she’d already been there this morning, delivering the business license and fees for Salgoron of Salgoron’s Goods, which had indeed been delivered before she’d arrived at work that morning.
And Tarzul had not been too thrilled when he was interrupted during an unscheduled meeting—Elliran told her to go right in!
—with a grumpy-looking red demon elder as she delivered the payment.
Despite her current frustration, Rose chuckled.
Dav would get a kick out of that story—hearing how frustrated the Horn of Finance was that a human was more skilled at threatening Heck’s citizens into paying their dues.
Laz would laugh, too, then wrap his arms around her and swear she shouldn’t actually look at their budget because he feared she’d uncover some money-laundering plot that he unknowingly participated in because percentages were confusing.
Except she had looked at their ledger, and…
well, it was probably because of the delivery scam.
She would have needed more time with those old contracts and receipts to figure out the discrepancy and how they had somehow managed to stay afloat as a business.
But that felt like overstepping even more than she already was, even if they had practically begged her for ideas on scheduling so they didn’t have so much waste.
Rose slipped the other parchment out from under the art district research, adding sixth and seventh items.
6. Based on foot traffic and income, there is an opportunity to soft launch having the second weekday closed—as it is your lowest profit day of the week—and the second day of the weekend open until just after lunch rush. Less hours, but this could provide a higher profit from foot traffic alone.
7. A demon will be by this week to fix your heating rune. He has been sufficiently persuaded.
“Does that smile mean your date went well? Or are you finding grammatical mistakes in an official document again?”
Rosalind shifted her list back under her proposal documents. “Can’t it be both?”
Mozke swept into the room with a flourish, the heels of their boots clicking on the floor. “Gods, you didn’t need a night out; you needed to be given a list to organize.”
“I told you,” Rose huffed as they sat next to her.
“Are you still mad at me?”
She pursed her lips like she was actually contemplating it. “I suppose dinner last night was a step toward an apology.”
“And here I thought it was the giant stack of research I delivered to assist you with your proposal.”
“That certainly helped.” Rose gestured to her latest budget assessment. “What do you think about this?”
Mozke skimmed the page. Then read it again. And by the third time, Rosalind was going to need to change blouses for how she was sweating.
“Well?”
The frown lines between Mozke’s eyes were not reassuring, but just as Rose’s heart began climbing her throat, they snatched the paper and held it as close to their face as possible.
“It’s beautiful.”
Rosalind blinked, the shock momentarily calming her fear. “Beautiful?”
They made a retching noise. “Yes, beautiful. I just called work beautiful, but damn it all to blazes, this is the most beautiful proposal I’ve ever seen in my life.” With a flick of their wrist, the paper was handed back to Rose. “Please, take it. Your brilliance is blinding me.”
Rose’s cheeks burned as she looked it over again even if she had the thing memorized. It didn’t feel beautiful, but she was proud of it. Succinct language, summarized laws, budget rearranging—
“You read the numbers, too?” she asked.
Mozke hummed, now pretending they weren’t looking over all of Rosalind’s other notes after just claiming they were disgusted by work. Their finger landed on the line item. “Where did that one come from?”
Rosalind tried not to outwardly smirk at the curiosity in their voice. “That’s the mystery.”
Mozke raised a pierced brow. “Sweet little human, requesting that much money we don’t have is not going to go well.”
“What happened to my beautiful proposal?” she teased.
“I assumed I wouldn’t have to fact check your brain.”
“You don’t. But you should fact check the books, because that money is poof”—she clapped her hands for emphasis—“gone.”
Mozke narrowed their eyes, then gestured for her to continue.
“Fundraising over the years, income on projects, taxes? This number should exist in our ledger, but it’s not there.
” Still holding her proposal protectively, she pushed her latest migraine toward the pastel blue demon.
“Look at this trail I’ve been following.
These are the hands and laws that it has to pass before it should be allocated to us, but instead—”
“Everything is ruined!”
The shout snapped the silence of the office, and Mozke darted Rose a confused look before scrambling out of their chair. Rosalind was right behind them, making it to the doorway as the curses started.
“Cancel it. Cancel everything! Yes, Janoch, I mean—” Argeth twirled back toward the front desk, lowering his head. “No, no, don’t cancel lunch. I want the usual, please.”
He spun back to the office, tossing his hands up so that his billowing sleeves followed like a wave of pink water. Which they were, coincidentally, patterned like ripples in water.
“All my hard work in shambles. Ten days! This is devastating news, and we shall never recover—”
“Um, Argeth?” came a squeaky voice. A young male had his finger raised, though he kept himself hidden behind a potted plant. “What, um, happened?”
“Catering! Canceled last minute!” Argeth brushed his hands down his shirt quickly, only ruffling the fabric further. “Little demon babies, never can arrive on time, can they?”
“Isn’t the caterer your cousin’s wife?” came another voice.
Argeth waved them off. “Yes, yes, I’m a proud uncle or nephew or…
whatever. They have one already. But my fundraiser.
” He picked up a sheet of paper that a yellow demon was actively writing on and began to fan himself.
“We’re ruined. I’m never going to find another caterer who can make the turnaround in just ten days. It’s a disaster of epic propor—”
“I can get you a caterer.”
Rosalind hadn’t remembered stepping outside the room, but when the office fell silent and all depthless eyes fell on her, she was given two options.
Turn her tailless behind around and hide, or…
Rosalind looked down to the paper in her hand. The reminder of what she had been working on just moments ago.
Another idea formed, possibly just as good as her first.
She swallowed and took another step forward, saying again with much more conviction, “I can get you a caterer.”
There was both hope and suspicion in Argeth’s gaze as his fan-waving hand fell still. “They can cater the fundraiser? In ten days? Enough for all the attendees?”
Rosalind nodded to each question. And then she opened her mouth before her nerves got the best of her.
“But I need a favor first.”
Argeth’s jaw worked, but she could see the moment he decided.
“My office.” He tossed his makeshift fan in the air, spinning around with a call to the chamber, “Well, what are you all standing around for? Keep prepping for the fundraiser.”
Rose chased after the long-legged councilor, turning her head as she hurriedly gave Mozke a panicked look and a mouthed help me.
Somehow it was both reassuring and terrifying that Mozke urged her on with a shoo of their hands. Sending her into the boss’s office with no aid.
“Close the door,” Argeth instructed as she stepped inside. He was already sitting at his desk, legs crossed and watching her with guarded curiosity.
Rosalind willed her hand not to shake as she pushed it closed and turned back to face her sponsor.
He gestured to the chair opposite him. “The favor?”
She blew out a shaky breath and dropped into the chair. “Right, yes.” Despite always sitting in that seat, the cushion felt uncomfortable as she tried not to squirm. “I have a proposal for you.”
One perfectly manicured brow rose. “Yes, and that is?”
Rosalind blinked. “Oh, no, I mean… I have a proposal and I want to… propose it to you.”
That only added to his confusion. “Your favor is that you want to propose a proposal to me?”
She nodded. “About the art district.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “Not that I have to accept it? Or that you’ll propose it directly to the other councilors?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d go for that.”
“I’m pretty desperate.”
“I’m also not malicious.”
Argeth’s dark eyes assessed her. “No… no, you are not.”
Rosalind pinched her paper between her fingers. “The other councilors won’t listen to a human. Probably. But I think this is important, so if I can convince you, I think the Horn of Culture presenting a plan to revitalize the art district will be much more impactful.”
He stuck his hand forward faster than she expected. “Deal. And I’ll even keep an open mind about your proposal, even though you really should include that when you make bargains.”
Rosalind stifled her smile, but judging by the amusement in Argeth’s eyes as she shook his hand, she hadn’t been entirely successful.
That shifted quickly into something expectant.
“Oh, the caterer,” she blurted. “Lovable Loaf.” Then, because she couldn’t for the life of her keep a secret, she added, “I also have a personal relationship with the owners.”
Argeth, of course, had to look up at that and see her cheeks as they turned red. “A personal… ah, I see.”
“If that’s a conflict of interest—”
“The previous caterer was my cousin’s wife. We can handle… whatever your relationship is that I don’t need to know about.” The councilor tapped his long fingers on the desk. “You can vouch for Lovable Loaf as a business?”
Rosalind nodded. “I can. Relationship aside.”
“Good food?”
“Best I’ve had in Heck,” she said, then amended, “Well, that and what Mozke feeds me.”
Argeth sighed, leaning down to rifle through a drawer. “My anxiety can’t handle another cancellation. So here’s what’s going to happen.” He pulled out a form, and Rosalind caught a glimpse of the attached banknote before he began to scribble on it. “Here is the money for—”
“Plus a last-minute fee,” Rosalind blurted.
She willed her face to remain neutral this time, even as her heart climbed, but Argeth didn’t look up, even as he grumbled.
“The money plus a last-minute fee for the catering. I expect them to be early, have enough food, and for the drinks to keep everyone happy until the last demon leaves.”
Rosalind nodded so fast that she almost made herself dizzy.
“And,” he said, still scribbling on the banknote, “I am assigning you to oversee this. Stand over their shoulders, create the menu, cook the fucking food yourself, just make sure it’s done. Move your work to their space to oversee everything. I don’t want another surprise.”
“Of course, sir.”
He slid the form across the desk, and Rosalind quickly took it before he could change his mind. But besides the banknote for Lovable Loaf, there was a small sheet of paper on top.
She frowned at the number scribbled there. “What’s this?”
Argeth leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his lap. “You saved my ass. Consider this a trial budget before your proposal.”
Rosalind looked at the paper, then to him, and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Add some value to your proposal and give me something tangible to pass on to the other councilors, if I like what you present. Put that to work where it can best make a difference. Show me that it can be done when we’ve failed so many times in the past.”
She looked at the number, a smile growing on her face at the thought of all the good she could already do. At finally being heard. At feeling like she was finally able to give something of value—
“Well? Caterers?”
Rosalind jerked up from her chair. “Right, yes, thank you.”
Hurrying from the room, she couldn’t help but keep that smile on her face at the other document in her hand. Not just the budget that paid Lovable Loaf a handsome sum, but the extra value that would come from having everyone at the fundraiser fall in love with their food and the demons who made it.
And maybe, just maybe, most of that excitement was at the chance to spend even more time with the very demons she was starting to fall for.