Menu for Romance (11 page)

“Right.” Meredith took her notepad and returned to her own office, smiling. But her good mood vanished as soon as she walked in. Alaine sat in Meredith’s regular place at the table, having what looked like an intimate conversation with Major.

“How’s that? Can you see both of our faces?” Alaine asked.

The guy behind the camera gave a thumbs-up, and Alaine stood.

“Oh, Meredith, I didn’t hear you come in. We’re ready to get started whenever you are.” Alaine waved Meredith toward the table. Toward
Meredith’s
table in
Meredith’s
office.

Meredith turned around, pretending to look for something on her desk. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, reaching as far down inside as she could to draw upon whatever confidence she could find in this situation. She couldn’t let this woman’s beauty and command of the situation rob her of what little professionalism she had left. She caught sight of the tube of her favorite tinted lip balm next to her phone and quickly swiped a little on.

“We’re mostly here to get footage of you two working together. That will become part of a montage with a voice-over, most likely. Meredith, if you don’t mind, after you’re finished, I’d love to do an on-camera interview with you to get caught up on everything you’ve already done.”

“I don’t mind.” Good. Her voice hadn’t sounded as if she’d been inhaling helium. She took her seat and avoided making eye contact with Major. She couldn’t let him see how much this was getting to her.

“Remember, just pretend like we’re not even here.”

“Right.” Meredith scooted her stack of files closer. “Okay. Menu and final food budget...”

Even though Major seemed to have no problem ignoring Alaine and the camera and the big, fuzzy microphone catching every word they uttered, Meredith had never been so uncomfortably aware of her body in her life: her hands, her legs—should she cross them or just her ankles?—her facial expressions, her posture.

“Next week, the board and Mrs. Warner are coming in for the tasting so we can finalize the menu.” Great. Now she was saying things Major already knew because she was thinking about that microphone hovering below the edge of the table. “What have you decided to make?”

Major pulled out a stapled-together packet and handed it to her. “Everything we discussed, and I added a few things at your suggestion.”

Beyond the camera, Alaine Delacroix scribbled something on her steno pad.

“Uh, okay. Great.” Meredith hadn’t been this nervous since the oral presentation of her master’s thesis. Major handed her another piece of paper. She read, scrawled in his bold handwriting,
Hang in there, you’re doing fine.

Some of the anxiety ebbed away. She looked up in time to see a bead of sweat trace its way down his hairline and along his jaw then disappear under his shirt collar. The confirmation that Major wasn’t as cool and collected as he appeared filled Meredith with the first traces of genuine confidence. She delved into his tasting menu, and soon she had almost forgotten anyone but she and Major were in the room.

When they turned to determining how many staff Major would need—kitchen porters, servers, cleanup crew—Meredith went to the small fridge built into the wall unit behind her desk and retrieved four bottles of water. Without interrupting Major’s monologue of calculations, she gave Alaine and the cameraman two of the bottles and the third to Major.

“Thanks.” He opened it and took a long swallow. “So that’s two servers per table of ten, one per eight-top, and one per two four-tops.”

“And we need to get them all to bring in their black pants a couple of days ahead of time to make sure none of them are stained or faded and that we don’t end up with anyone in chinos again.” The cold water soothed the dryness of nerves and extensive talking in Meredith’s throat.

“Agreed.” He made a note in his binder. “And as soon as Jana gets the schedule confirmed, I’ll have her get the sizes to Corie so we can make sure we get the shirts ordered early this time.”

“Don’t fancy a drive to Baton Rouge to pick them up the morning of the event?” Meredith teased. The sound of a pencil scribbling madly etched through her jollity.

“Not particularly, no.” Major winked at her then returned to talking through the number of employees he’d need on the schedule.

At three thirty, the facilities supervisor for Vue de Ceil came in with a copy of the floor plan so they could work out the arrangement of the room—tables, dance floor, and stage.

“Oh! Do you mind if we reset the camera so we can get more of an overhead of y’all working on that?” Alaine piped up for the first time since the meeting started.

Meredith glanced at Major and Orly. Both men shrugged. She nodded at the reporter then returned her attention to the large sheet of paper covering her table. “I don’t want it set up just like we did at New Year’s. Too many of the same guests are expected, and I want it to look distinctly different.”

Orly slid another roll of paper out of the plastic tube he’d brought with him and spread it out on top of the blank one. The heavily notated and revised plan from New Year’s. Meredith stood and leaned over the table, resting her right knee on the seat of her chair.

Almost as if someone covered her back with a blanket, she felt Alaine’s presence behind her, trying to get a look at the plan. But the reporter didn’t interfere, didn’t come in closer, didn’t say anything. Grudgingly, Meredith admired her restraint.

After quite a bit of discussion, the location of the dance floor was set. Major and Orly started sketching in tables, determining the proper distribution of sizes and the spacing so the servers could easily move around them.

The room went suddenly dim. Meredith, Major, and Orly all stood and turned to see the cameraman taking his equipment apart.

Alaine had the good grace to look apologetic. “I’m sorry. It’s four thirty, so he has to get back to the studio.”

Meredith checked her watch. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. I guess we’ll just have to set up another time for that interview?”

“Yes. I’ll call you in the morning to schedule it.” Alaine helped wrap up cords and pack everything into large canvas bags.

“I can have my assistant call one of the building maintenance staff to help you carry all of that out.” Meredith took a few steps toward the door to the outer office.

“Oh no, it’s not necessary.” The cameraman waved her off. “I’ve got it.”

He did indeed manage to heave everything but one small bag up onto his large shoulders and carry it from the office.

“Do you mind if I come back up and continue taking notes?” Alaine asked. “After I help him take this to his car?”

“That will be fine.” Meredith returned to the schematic and pretended to be oblivious to the fact that Major and Orly both watched Alaine leave the room. “Okay, let’s see if we can at least get the preliminary layout finished by five o’clock.”

When she returned, Alaine stood beside the fourth chair at the table, notepad in hand, making occasional notations while Major and Orly drew in tables, then erased them, then drew them in somewhere else. If Meredith moved just a foot to her right, she might be able to see what Alaine was writing.

“Miss Guidry?” Corie appeared at the main door to the office. “Do you need anything before I go?”

Meredith almost laughed at her assistant’s formality. “No, Corie. Thanks. Have a good evening.”

“You, too.” The young woman grinned and closed the door behind her.

At five fifteen, Orly finally rolled the schematics and stuffed them in the tube. “That’s a good start, I b’lieve.”

“I think so. Putting the bandstand in front of the east windows will give us a lot more room, even though it means losing the view from that side.” Meredith pressed her hands to the small of her back and stretched away the stiffness from two hours’ leaning over the table.

“Guests are always happier when there’s more room between the tables.” Major stacked his papers and files. “And the servers are as well.”

“We’ll get together again next week to finalize the plan after the board’s tasting. I’ll e-mail you both to set up a time.”

Orly raised the plastic tube in salute. “See y’all later.”

“How do you spell his name?” Alaine asked.

“It’s actually Orlando Broussard. But he goes by Orly—O-r-l-y.” Meredith dropped her stack of work on her desk with a thud.

“Thanks. I really appreciate you letting me do this, Meredith. This is going to be a great way to publicize the Hearts to HEARTS charity and hopefully raise a lot more money for the hospital.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Meredith smiled, though dreading the added stress having a reporter and cameraman around all the time would create.

“Mere, I’ll bring your take-out box back by on my way out if you’re going to be here for a little while.” Major hovered near the door.

“Yeah. I have some projects I need to write up for my staff, so I’ll be here another half hour or so.” She extended her right hand to Alaine. “It was very nice to meet you, and I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here. I appreciate everything. Really.” That high-wattage smile returned. It seemed much warmer than it had in Mom’s office.

Alaine turned to leave. “And Chef, I’m looking forward to seeing a lot more of you soon.”

“Why don’t you come up to my office, and we can look at my schedule.” Major motioned Alaine out the door ahead of him.

Her charitable feelings toward Alaine Delacroix vanished, crushed under a block of ice. Meredith had been right. Major would never feel
that way
about her. Ward seemed to like her, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. But how long would that last before he met an Alaine of his own?

“I’m happy you had time in your schedule to meet with me today.” Alaine Delacroix finished fiddling with her camera and settled into the guest chair facing Meredith’s desk.

“I’m pleased to be able to accommodate you.” Meredith clasped her hands atop her desk blotter and tried to force her shoulders to loosen up.

“Chef O’Hara had so many wonderful things to say about you when I interviewed him last week—I couldn’t wait to come talk to the miracle worker myself.”

“I’m sure he was exaggerating.” Meredith didn’t know why she always felt the need to deflect compliments rather than just say thank you and move on. “So I take it the interview with him went well?”

“Yes—I aired a twenty-minute segment on today’s show as a promo for his cooking segment starting in a couple of weeks. And it made a nice follow-up to the part of the interview I aired on the New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball.”

In spite of herself, Meredith returned Alaine’s perfect smile. She seemed pretty genuine. Maybe Meredith was overreacting to the reporter’s presence and Major’s reaction to her. Of course, that shouldn’t matter anyway, since she was supposed to be getting over Major.

“Okay—ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Meredith rearranged her hands on her blotter. “Should I look at you or the camera?”

The cycloptic lens stared at her over Alaine’s shoulder. “Let’s just have a conversation, you and I. Don’t think of this as an interview, just think of me as ... as a potential client who’s curious about the event you’re working on right now.”

Laughter released some of Meredith’s nervousness. “I think I can do that.”

“Great. Let’s start with the history of the Hearts to HEARTS banquet. How did Boudreaux-Guidry Enterprises get involved with a charity to raise money for the cardiac care unit at University Hospital?”

“About five years ago, my father, Lawson Guidry, suffered a heart attack. He was taken first to Bonneterre General, where his condition was misdiagnosed as severe angina, and he was sent home.”

Meredith picked up a pen and was about to start twirling it between her fingers until the little red light on the camera caught her attention. She put the pen back down. “Later that night, he passed out during dinner. This time, he was taken to University Hospital and immediately admitted to the cardiac care unit. Dr. Warner personally treated him and attended the surgeon during Dad’s bypass surgery. After that, the Warners became like part of our family.”

“When Dr. Warner passed away a year later, my parents wanted to do something to honor him and decided the best way was to help raise money for his research foundation, HEARTS.”

“Is that an acronym?”

“It is: Heart-disease Education, Awareness, Research, Treatment, and Survival.” She grinned, pleased with herself for being able to say the whole thing without having to stop to remember what any of the elements were.

Alaine segued into questions about the actual nuts and bolts of planning the events. Meredith was only too happy to talk about what went into organizing an event like this, being sure to give her event planners and Corie plenty of credit for all of the work they did to help her.

After an hour, Alaine changed her line of questioning. “Tell me a little about yourself, Meredith. How long have you been in this job?”

“I’ve been the executive director of events and facilities for about six years. Before that, I was an event planner under Anne Hawthorne when she was head of the department.”

“Anne Hawthorne—the wedding planner?” Alaine clicked her tongue. “If only I’d known you last year, I might have gotten that interview with her I kept trying for.” She laughed. “So Anne Hawthorne worked here before she started Happy Endings, Inc. How long did you work for Anne?”

“About four years. I started working here as soon as I finished grad school.”

“Let me guess—MBA?” Alaine grinned.

Meredith shook her head, laughing. “No. Not even close. Art history. My dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps and get my degrees in business, but I chose to go the fine arts route instead.”

Alaine’s dark eyes glowed from deep within. “I can’t believe it! I started out as an art history major—then I took a journalism class for a liberal arts requirement, and I was hooked. But whenever I got a chance, I took art classes to fulfill elective hours.”

“What movement did you want to study?” Meredith leaned forward on her elbows, thrilled at the rare opportunity to talk to someone who knew something about art.

“Impressionists. I have Monet and Renoir and Pissaro lithographs all over my townhouse—and a few framed postcards I got at the Louvre several years ago.”

“Oh,” Meredith half sighed, half groaned. “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe and tour all the great art museums.”

“Have you at least been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York?” Alaine seemed to forget the camera and her notepad, leaning toward Meredith in her interest.

“No. Closest I’ve been is the National Gallery of Art and the Hirshhorn in Washington, D.C. I’ve also been to the Art Institute of Chicago.”

“What’s your movement?”

“Art deco. Everything about the era—the art, the jewelry, the architecture. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to buy a craftsman bungalow a few months ago—even though it did need a complete overhaul inside.”

“Really? I’d love to buy an old place and fix it up.” Alaine laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, have my brother fix it up.”

“Your brother?”

“Tony. He’s a contractor.”

A tingle of interest tickled the back of Meredith’s neck. Even though she was pretty sure Ward would give her a reasonable offer, having another bid on the work might be good. “A contractor? Here in Bonneterre?”

“Yeah. He actually has his degree in architecture. But he decided he liked getting his hands dirty instead of sitting in an office drawing every day, so he became a contractor instead.” Alaine jerked her head then jumped up to turn the camera off. “Sorry. I’ll erase all of that personal stuff.”

“Not a problem.” Meredith stood and walked around to perch on the front edge of her desk while Alaine broke down the camera equipment. “What kind of construction work does your brother do?”

“Home remodeling. Hey, you know what?” Alaine stopped halfway through wrapping up the power cord. “You and Tony would have a lot in common. Would it be weird if...?”

“I’d love to meet him.”

“That’s great.” Alaine gave a little hop of excitement. “I don’t usually go around trying to set up the people I’m interviewing with one of my brothers, but I know the two of you would really hit it off.”

Meredith’s stomach dropped into her left knee. A setup?

“I could give him your phone number or e-mail address and have him get in touch with you.” Alaine crouched down to pack everything away in a black canvas bag. “If I can get another one of your business cards, I’ll tell him to e-mail you.” She caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she looked up and wrinkled her nose in a big grin at Meredith.

“I ... uh...” How did she expect to end her years of singleness if she passed up opportunities for dates, or get her house finished if she worried that every contractor might ask her out? She swallowed hard and handed Alaine another business card. “Okay.”

Meredith walked Alaine out to the main entrance and shook her hand in farewell. Back in the solitude of her office, Meredith allowed the stunned disbelief to swallow her. Had she really agreed to let Alaine Delacroix set her up with her brother?

“Do that later. The movie’s starting.”

“I’ll be there in a second Ma. I can see the TV from here, y’know.” Major continued dusting the top of the mirror over his mother’s dresser in her studio apartment. A large archway separated the bedroom from what she called the “front parlor”—a sitting area that held her recliner, a loveseat, and a small entertainment center. While Beausoleil Pointe Center sent someone in to clean the bathroom every day and to vacuum once a week, the responsibility of caring for and cleaning any personal furniture items lay solely with the resident. And his mother had never dusted a piece of furniture in her life that Major could remember.

“You just did that last time you were here. It can’t be that bad.”

“Actually, Ma, I’ve been here twice since last time I did this. It’ll just take a minute.” He spritzed window cleaner on the mirror and polished it until all the streaks disappeared. “I take it you haven’t changed your bed since last time I dusted either.”

Beverly O’Hara waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t remember.”

Major pulled down the comforter. Yep. Still the same pink-and-yellow-striped sheets he’d put on there two weeks ago. In less than thirty seconds, he had the bed stripped, the linens bundled up and set by the door to take home and run through the laundry—since he was pretty sure that after almost two years here, his mother still didn’t know where the laundry room was.

The opening score of
Flying Leathernecks
filled the room. Major hummed along with the melody.

“You’re missing it, son!” His mother’s voice gained a shrill edge.

“I’m right here. The opening credits are still running, aren’t they?” He pulled a clean set of sheets off the top shelf of the closet.

“But this is the one.”

“The one what?”

“For heaven sake. If I can remember, you should be able to. The one I named you for.”

Major tossed the folded sheets onto the bed and went into the sitting room where he leaned over the back of his mother’s chair and pressed his cheek to hers. “Oh, you mean this is the one in which the Duke plays Major Daniel Xavier Kirby, United States Marine Corps.”

She pressed her cold hand to his other cheek. He whispered the first few lines of the voice-over introduction in her ear then kissed the top of her head. “Let me finish making the bed. Then I’ll put on some coffee, make popcorn, and watch the John Wayne War Movie Marathon with you.” He refrained from pointing out that she had the DVDs of all of the films that were going to be shown.

“You’ll stay for the whole marathon?”

“I’ll stay as long as I can.” He returned to the other part of the room and made up the bed with the precision corners his roommate in New York during culinary school—a former army drill sergeant—had taught him.

As promised, before he settled into the cushy loveseat, he’d fixed decaffeinated coffee and microwave popcorn. And Ma was already asleep in her chair. Their typical Sunday afternoon.

“You’ve got enough troubles of your own for one man.”
John Wayne said on the TV screen.
“Stop trying to pack everybody else’s around.”

Major had been able to quote nearly every line of this movie since he was a little kid. But that particular line had never hit home with him as it did today. Ever since he’d seen Meredith’s date a week ago, he’d given himself indigestion ruminating over whether or not he should tell her about Ma and see if there was any chance to work things out.

The idea of telling Meredith both relieved and frightened him. He couldn’t imagine anyone else he’d be more content to spend the rest of his life with. Yet would she understand? Would she be able to accept Ma’s condition as a very intrusive and volatile part of their relationship?

Ma snuffled a little in her sleep.

No. He couldn’t do this to Meredith. While he’d love to truly become a member of the Guidry family—instead of just an accepted outsider—he couldn’t reciprocate and bring Meredith into his family. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, souring the coffee he’d just downed.

“I’ve got enough troubles of my own.”

Meredith, while not a high-maintenance girl like some he’d dated, worked in a high-stress job with long and unusual hours. If a restaurant were to become a success, it would have to be Major’s life for the next few years.

Resentment vied with the guilt in curdling the contents of his stomach. He had to make a choice: spend what little free time he would have developing a relationship with Meredith, or spend it with his mother.

“Lord, I don’t know how I got myself into this mess. All this time, Ma’s been telling me she wants me to meet someone and get married. If only I’d listened to her before now. I’ve known Meredith for eight years.”

The reality of his words sank in. He’d known Meredith for eight years. In the beginning, she’d been like a younger sister. When he’d first started working at B-G, he’d toyed with the idea of finally allowing himself to do something about the crush he’d had on Anne in high school and college. But she’d just gone through the breakup of her first engagement, so he offered a brotherly shoulder for support. It had been only natural that he would treat Meredith the same way when she took over Anne’s job—and took the job beyond anything Anne had ever done.

In every respect, she was the ideal companion for someone in the restaurant industry. She understood the late nights, the long hours—because she had the same demands in her own job. She was wonderful with clients. And though he always made sure his numbers were exact and balanced before he turned reports in, he depended on her for many of the business aspects of the catering division.

“She’d never leave an executive director position and come to work at a restaurant. That would be ridiculous.”

The movie ended,
The Fighting Seabees
started, and his mother napped on. Major rubbed his eyes hard enough to see stars. Truth be told, if he were going into business with Meredith as his sole partner, he would have signed the papers the day the offer had been made. He’d watched her become MacGyver and fix a broken table with rubber bands, paper clips, and chewing gum; solve any audio-visual problem their equipment could throw at them; make fifty tablecloths work in a room with a hundred tables; and never let on to the client or the rest of the staff that there’d been a problem to begin with.

“She’s perfect for me.” When he realized he’d spoken aloud, he glanced at Ma, but she hadn’t budged. He’d become too accustomed to talking to himself from living alone for so long.

He collected the popcorn bowls and coffee mugs and took them to the kitchenette—one counter along the far wall of the sitting room—to wash. He wished he could find a way to let Meredith know he cared for her, that he’d like nothing better than to be with her forever, but that right now he couldn’t.