PECAN-SMOKED TEXAS PEPPER SAUCE.
A small line beneath:
Made from ripe peppers selected for flavor, not appearance.
Clara refused to use the word waste on the front.
The bottles looked good.
Too good, almost.
She remembered the dirt yard.
The mocking.
The kicked crate.
A glossy label seemed dishonest.
Then she understood packaging was not dishonesty if the product earned it.
The first commercial batch was 244 bottles.
Cross & Ash took 180.
The farm stand got thirty-six.
The rest Clara kept for samples.
Price: $11 retail.
$6.25 restaurant wholesale.
Clara calculated margins until midnight.
Not huge.
Promising.
The first batch sold out in eleven days.
The second sold out in eight.
Then a restaurant Clara had never contacted called.
The Copper Finch.
San Antonio.
“We tried it at Cross & Ash.”
Clara sat up.
“How?”
“Our chef steals ideas professionally.”
She smiled.
“How much do you need?”
“Four cases.”
She supplied.
Then another restaurant.
Then a specialty butcher.
Then a small grocery.
By November, Clara had the opposite problem from September.
Not enough ugly peppers.
That amused Hank endlessly.
“You drove around begging for trash.”
“I am aware.”
“And now you’re paying thirty cents.”
“I’m aware.”
“You think I can charge thirty-five?”
“No.”
“I think I can.”
“Try.”
He did.
Clara paid thirty-two.
They both pretended victory.
But success began introducing dangerous ideas.
A regional distributor called.
Lone Star Specialty Foods.
They wanted exclusivity for central Texas.
Clara nearly said yes.
The numbers were seductive.
Guaranteed minimum orders.
Distribution.
Warehousing.
Accounts she could never reach alone.
Then she showed Julian.
He read the contract.
“Absolutely not.”
Clara bristled.
“You’re not my lawyer.”
“No.”
“You asked me.”
“I asked whether the price looked fair.”
“It does.”
“Then?”
“The exclusivity is terrible.”
“It’s only two years.”
“It’s two years everywhere from Waco to San Antonio.”
“That’s my market.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned.
“They guarantee three thousand cases.”
“And cap your direct sales.”
Clara read again.
She had missed that.
Julian continued:
“They also control promotions.”
“Discount authority.”
“And chargebacks.”
“What are chargebacks?”
He looked at her.
“Do not sign anything until you know that word.”
Clara hated him.
Then hired a lawyer.
The lawyer cost $425 an hour.
Clara almost vomited.
Two hours saved her business.