Page 39 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
Surely, that can’t be the case for me. That isn’t even my building. I’m a renter. The contents of my restaurant are theonlything it makes sense for my policy to cover. So, it’s probably fine. I mean, I haven’t heard from my claim representative since the day after the flood, when her secretary sent confirmation that my email had been received and Rachael would get back to me as soon as possible, but…
Well, in light of the sheer volume of calls and emails she must have received, I haven’t been worried.
Still, it’s been almost a week, and their website says the office is open on Saturdays.
Thanks to burning the midnight oil last night, it’s already 9:03. I should just call them and put my mind at ease. There’s no point in stressing about something that is likely a non-issue.
Rolling over, I grab my cell from beside the bed, then snuggle back under the covers as I place the call.
“Pelican State Insurance, Mitzy speaking, how can I help you?” a chipper voice answers after the second ring.
“Hey, Mitzy, this is Makena DeWitt,” I say, matching her chipper. You always win more bees with honey. “Thanks for taking my call. I just had a quick question about my coverage. I’m happy to wait as long as it takes for my flood claim to be processed—I know how busy y’all are right now—I just…” I exhale an only slightly nervous-sounding laugh. “Well, a little reassurance from Rachael would go a long way right now. Is she in this morning? And if so, could you connect me, please?”
“Sure, thing, Ms. DeWitt, just a moment,” Mitzy says. “Have a fantastic day!”
“Thanks,” I say, crossing my fingers as jazzy hold music begins to play. “You’re freaking out over nothing,” I murmur as Iwatch the ceiling fan swirl and will my heart to remain calm. “It’s going to be fine.”
Rachael’s probably going to tell me that I have nothing to worry about, and she’ll be getting to my case soon. Then, I’ll go make a frittata with a side of roasted potatoes and start prepping for my next intense conversation of the day.
The one where I tell Parker that IthinkI’m ready to date him, but also scared to death, and make him promise not to turn evil somewhere down the line upon penalty of something awful.
Something I’ll be able to think up as soon as my insurance agent puts my mind at ease…
“Hello, Ms. DeWitt? Are you still there?” Rachael asks, sending another jolt of electricity through my chest.
“Yes, I am,” I hurry to assure her. “Thanks for taking my call. I just had a quick question about my policy. And the claim for Hot Plate and Cheese?”
“Of course, I have your case pulled up here,” she continues briskly. Polite, but clearly wanting to get down to business and get off the line. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, well, I was just… I was talking to this really sweet man last night. He and his family lost their home in the flood, and well, I—” I break off with a shake of my head, cursing myself for not figuring out what I was going to say before I called. I should know better than to start adulting before coffee. “Anyway, long story short, he said something about his policy that worried me a little. I probably shouldn’t be worried. I mean, my claim is about abusiness; his was a private home—yada, yada.”
I let out a strained laugh, my anxiety building as I realize nothing about this “short” story is short. “But you know, it’s all been such a stressful time, and I really don’t need more stress right now. So anyway, basically, I just wanted to get confirmation from you that all the contents of my restaurant will be covered—you know, the industrial stove I installed, the grill,all my pots and pans and cutlery, etcetera. I’m sure it is, but I just… Yeah, I wanted to check.”
Rachael makes a low, humming noise that isn’t comforting. Not at all. It’s so non-comforting, in fact, that a part of me knows what’s coming, even before she says, “I’m sorry, Ms. DeWitt, but no. It looks like you have the Silver Plan.”
I shoot upright so fast, black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I squeak, “What? What does that mean?”
“It means, once you’ve paid your deductible, the policy will cover all structural elements added to your business by the business owner. That includes walls, electrical, plumbing, and any seating that was bolted in place.”
“Bolted in place?” I echo, squeak sliding higher. “Why bolted in place?”
“That makes them part of the structure, not the contents.”
Pushing past the ridiculousness of that explanation, I appeal to her sense of reason, “But I don’t own the building, Rachael—I’m a renter. All the structures were already in place when I signed the lease. The only reason I even needed flood insurance was to protect what was inside—my appliances, my equipment, my…” I suck in a breath, willing myself not to start crying as I add, “My everything. Please, there has to be some kind of mistake. Someone I can talk to about this. Because if that’s how this shakes out, I won’t get anything at all from my insurance. Nothing. Zero. And that’s just… That doesn’t seem right. Does that seem right to you?”
Rachael sighs, not unkindly, but she doesn’t sound particularly hopeful as she says, “You’re welcome to come speak to my supervisor, Ms. DeWitt, and see if there’s anything he can do for you. He’s in the office Tuesday through Saturday, ten to six.”
“So, he’s there today?” I ask, clinging to the tiny hope thread. “Could I come by this morning? Just for a few minutes? Around ten-thirty, maybe?”
“Of course,” Rachael says. “I’ll let him know to expect you. Is there anything else?”
“No, thank you,” I say, swinging out from under the covers. “I’ll see you soon.”
I end the call with a jab of my shaking thumb and dash for the door. First, coffee. Then, clothes. Then, a car service to the Pelican State Insurance office. Which is probably going to cost a gazillion dollars, considering it’s on the other side of the greater New Orleans metro area, but I can’t wait until Monday, when Parker’s truck will be free for me to borrow.
I have to save my restaurant.
Now.
