Emily looked at the sheet again, then at her grandfather.
“What did you tell me?” Frank asked her.
She knew exactly what he meant.
“Never buy the payment,” she said. “Buy the car and understand the total cost.”
“Good.”
Trent exhaled through his nose.
Frank slid the proposal back across the desk. “Remove every optional product she did not request. Use the published documentation fee. If she chooses financing, show the rate after the actual application. And give us an itemized out-the-door number.”
Trent’s jaw tightened.
“You seem to know the business.”
“A little.”
“What did you say you do again?”
Frank smiled faintly. “You didn’t ask.”
That irritated Trent more than anything else had.
He took the sheet and walked to the sales tower where a floor manager sat behind glass partitions. Frank watched him speak to another employee, then glance back toward them. The other man looked over as well. Both smiled.
Emily noticed.
“They’re talking about us,” she said quietly.
“Probably.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“It tells me something.”
“What?”
“That sometimes the most useful information you get in a negotiation has nothing to do with the price.”
She looked at him, then toward Trent.
“I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then why are we still here?”
Frank considered that.
“Because you like the car. Because Marcus treated you properly. And because walking away is always available to us. There’s no harm in seeing what happens next as long as we don’t confuse patience with permission.”
Emily nodded slowly.
Across the showroom, Marcus carried a tray of paper cups toward the service lounge. An elderly man rose to take one, and Marcus stopped to listen as the man asked something. The conversation lasted several minutes. Marcus did not look impatient. He set the tray down, walked with the customer toward the service advisor, and waited until the man had been connected with someone who could answer his question.
Frank watched him the entire time.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you stop talking and start deciding something.”
He smiled. “Am I?”
“You always do it.”
“What am I deciding?”
“I don’t know. That’s what makes it annoying.”
Frank laughed softly.
Trent returned with a second proposal. Several add-ons were gone, but not all. The documentation fee had been corrected. The price of the vehicle itself had somehow increased by eight hundred dollars, now described as a “market adjustment.”
Frank tapped the line.
“What is this?”
“Inventory is tight.”
“The sticker outside doesn’t show a market adjustment.”
“It’s reflected at purchase.”
“Is that dealership policy?”
Trent leaned back. “It’s how we price certain high-demand units.”
Frank looked across the showroom toward the window where the blue sedan remained visible.
It had been on the lot for forty-three days according to the inventory information Marcus had shown them earlier.
“High demand,” Frank repeated.
Trent’s tone changed. “Sir, I’m trying to help your granddaughter get into a nice car. But if every number becomes an argument, we’re not going to get anywhere.”