The Sparkling One

18

“Zach, you have a call on line three,” Dora said. “It’s Katie.”

“Got it.” Zach punched the Off button for the intercom, then picked up the receiver and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said with a smile. “Thirty-three hours and counting. Are you nervous?”

He’d expected a laughing response from Katie, or a smart crack. What he got was silence.

“Katie?”

“I’m here. Do you have a second?”

“Sure.” Something in her voice made him sit up straight and hold on to the phone a little tighter. “What’s up?”

“There’s been an unexpected problem,” she said, her words more clipped than usual. “Last night the entire hotel kitchen staff had a tasting for the new menu for the hotel’s fine dining room.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Unfortunately they seemed to have cooked up some bad fish. Most of the kitchen staff is in the hospital, including Jerome.”

Zach opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“I’ve already spoken with the hotel manager along with the events manager,” she continued. “They’re willing to do whatever it takes to honor our contract with them. Outside staff can be brought in. Between that and my own staff, I’m reasonably confident that everything can be worked out in time. However, under the circumstances, I can’t guarantee that it will be perfect.”

He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Me, either,” she admitted. “There’s a clause in our contract with the hotel that allows us to pull out at the last minute when they have a disaster like this. They wouldn’t be happy with that decision, but they can’t stop us. They would return all moneys paid to date. We would have the option of rescheduling there or at another location in the future. I’ve already contacted a temp agency. I can have a phone bank up in less than two hours. Anyone we can’t reach by phone will be visited in person. The hotel will cover that cost. Also, they’ll pay for dinner at a nearby restaurant for anyone who slips through the cracks and shows up anyway.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Everyone is sick?”

“Yes. Actually Jerome sounded awful. He’s in the emergency room right now, but we’re keeping in touch by phone.”

Zach swore under his breath. He glanced at his watch. It was nine-fifty. “When did you find out about this?”

“At nine.”

“This morning?”

“Of course. I got right to work on the problem.”

“No kidding.”

Katie had put together a rescue operation with options in less than fifty minutes. Why was he surprised? She gave a hundred and ten percent.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about that. You’re the client.”

“The party is as much yours as it is the firm’s. We’re all in this together. What does your gut say we should do? Can you pull it off?”

“I can get all the elements together,” she said slowly. “Will it be what it would have been? I’m not sure. Will anyone know there was a problem?” She hesitated. “Can I get back to you on those odds?”

“That was ‘Katie, the owner of Organization Central’s’ answer. Now give me the ‘Katie, the person’s’ response. What can I do to make this situation easier for you? Do you want to cancel or bluff?”

She sighed. “Oh, Zach, it’s a nightmare. I can’t believe Jerome and his staff got sick less than two days before the party. It’s not fair.”

“Agreed. Tell me what you want.”

He heard her writing on a piece of paper, then she cleared her throat. “Let’s go for it.”

He tilted his head to cradle the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “That’s my vote, too. No one is going to want the hassle of rescheduling. Plus canceling at this late date may make the firm look flaky. Not exactly the image we want when we’re raising money for charity. It’s not going to help you, either. Let’s move forward and make it work. If there’s a problem, I’ll take responsibility.”

“Because you hired me, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “If something goes wrong, the responsibility is mine, Zach. I’m the one who agreed to plan the party. While it’s not my fault the entire kitchen staff is sick, the buck stops with me.”

He figured they could argue that point if it became a problem.

“I have every confidence in you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She laughed, although the sound was more strangled than humorous. “How are you in the kitchen?”

“I’m a fast learner.” He flipped through his calendar. “I’m in court most of today, but I’ll clear tomorrow. How’s that?”

“Whatever you can give me would be great.”

When this was over, they were going to have to lock her up in a nuthouse, Katie thought later that afternoon. Or she would have a heart attack, right there in the middle of the kitchen.

She didn’t think her heart had stopped pounding since she’d received Jerome’s phone call earlier. There were fourteen thousand details to take care of, not the least of which was the reality of getting a kitchen staff in place in time to prepare the food for the dinner tomorrow.

Her cell phone rang again.

“Yes,” she said, automatically reaching for the pad of paper she kept with her at all times.

“Hey.”

“Jerome!” The man sounded as if he’d spent most of the day barfing his guts up…which he probably had. “Tell me you’ve got news.”

“I have a grill chef for you. Madison. Just Madison. No last name.”

“Like Madonna?”

“Exactly. She’s great, and she owes me.” He gave her a number. “If she gives you any trouble, just tell her I said to mention Barbados.”

Katie scribbled it all down. Great. Code words. She was beginning to feel as if she were living in a very bad spy movie. All she would need next was a herd of elephants trampling through the kitchen.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ve checked the inventory, like you said. Everything is here.”

“You’ve got to get people cutting up the meat and vegetables. It takes time. Then prepare the marinade. Beef in tonight. Chicken in tomorrow. Shrimp goes in an hour before cooking. The vegetables have their own marinade schedule.”

She dutifully wrote down everything he said. As the conversation progressed, his voice got weaker and weaker. Finally she took pity on him.

“This is enough for now,” she said. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay. We’ll have to talk about the chocolate next. You can’t just throw it in a pot over an open flame and expect it to be wonderful. I had plans for the chocolate.” There was a gagging sound. “I have to go throw up.”

The phone disconnected before she could say anything.

Katie tried not to think about Jerome’s afternoon activities. As she organized her notes, her phone rang again.

“It’s your favorite florist,” a voice said cheerily. “The roses were trés ugly, so I want to make some changes. Same cost, but you’ll have to approve things. I’m sending a sample over right now. Is that okay?”

Before she could answer, the events manager walked into the kitchen.

“We’ve set the first table. Want to take a look, Katie?”

She motioned for him to give her a second, then finished her phone call. A quick glance at her watch told her that the booths were being set up and that she’d promised to stop by and check on that. There were also the last-minute prizes to be picked up.

She already had her staff running in forty-seven directions. Taking on the party was one thing, but filling in for the kitchen staff-especially Jerome, who coordinated everything about the food-was another.

“I need a signature for the liquor delivery,” a voice called from the doorway.

Katie looked at the uniformed man. “Did anyone go over the inventory with you?”

“No. Were they supposed to?”

She had an overwhelming urge to start pulling out her hair. Instead she said, “Yes. Give me two minutes. I’ll be there to go over it with you.” Then she looked at her cell phone.

She was out of options and out of time. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t think twice. But she’d been disowned from the family, and to the best of her knowledge, no one was speaking to her.

Still, she punched the buttons on her cell phone and listened to the ringing.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Mom, it’s me. I’m in trouble and I really need help.”

Zach arrived at the hotel shortly after six the morning of the fund-raiser. He’d tried to get Katie several times the previous evening, but she hadn’t been home. By the time he’d realized she was staying at the hotel and that he should try her on her cell, it had been too late. If she was getting any sleep at all, he didn’t want to wake her.

He headed for the front desk and got directions to the kitchen. He half expected to find the place deserted, but even before he pushed open the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY he heard the pounding of loud music and the sound of voices.

He wandered into organized madness. Several people were slicing vegetables. A tall Amazon-like woman in a chef’s hat dropped thousands of wooden skewers in a vat of water.

“Zach! Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”

He turned toward the voice and was amazed to see Grandma Tessa standing in front of a six-burner stove, stirring a giant pot.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t think anyone was speaking to Katie.”

She smiled and shrugged. “We were angry, now we’re not.”

Just like that? “What changed your mind?”

“Katie needed help. Now come say hello properly.”

Still considering what she had said, he crossed to her, bracing himself for the hug, kiss, and cheek-pinch greeting she’d turned into an art form. Grandma Tessa didn’t disappoint.

As he rubbed the welt she’d left on his skin, he leaned over to get a peek at what was in the pot.

“Ravioli,” she announced, then waved at the rest of the kitchen. “All of this is fine, but when Katie told me what had happened, I knew I had to bring pasta. First I cook it in the water, then later, I fry it.” She kissed the tips of her fingers. “Delicioso.”

He saw dozens of bags of frozen ravioli lined up on the counter behind her. “You didn’t just make this last night, did you?”

“No.” She laughed. “I keep it frozen, for company. There’s marinara sauce, too. Sometimes we have a party.”

There was probably enough ravioli to feed an army. “Some party,” he said. “Invite me next time.”

She grinned. “You’re family. You’re always invited.”

Family. Grandpa Lorenzo had been furious. The rest of them had stood with him. Was all that over because Katie had asked for help?

He continued to walk through the kitchen. The CD playing changed to an old Beatles album. After seeing Grandma Tessa, he wasn’t surprised to find Grammy M and Brenna cutting up chocolate.

“Like I need to be near something fattening,” Brenna grumbled when she saw him. “I wanted to work on the salad, but no.”

He smiled. “Everyone is speaking now?” he asked.

Grammy M nodded, but Brenna frowned.

“I was wrong,” she said. “I already apologized to Katie. Tricking Jeff was my own business. I shouldn’t have dragged Francesca into it. Or Katie.”

Zach thought about Katie’s pain and tears. “Did you tell her that? She was really upset.”

Brenna raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I did. I’ve apologized and we’re fine now. Sisters fight and then we make up. Oh.” She wiped her hands on a dishcloth, then pulled open several drawers until she found the one containing her purse. She dug around, then held up a small audiotape.

“Catch,” she said as she threw it to him. “I know, you can’t be party to anything illegal. So I’m not telling you what’s on that tape. Just keep it safe.”

He pocketed the small reel. “Did Francesca get what you needed?”

Brenna nodded. “The good news is Jeff isn’t coming after the winery anymore. That should make your job easier.”

“I don’t care about easy-I want to win.”

“My kind of guy.” Brenna nodded in the direction of several giant refrigerators. “The general is over there.”

Zach turned and saw Katie talking with some kitchen workers. Before he could get to her, he saw Colleen and Marco mixing up huge batches of marinade and Mia hovering over a jumbo container of rice.

He crossed to Mia. “You’re up early.”

The teenager yawned. “Actually I haven’t been to bed. Once I got Katie’s call, I couldn’t sleep, so I just came over here.” She stirred the pot. “Two thousand people eat a lot of rice.”

He watched her add a cup of some kind of spice.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

She grinned. “I can’t, but how hard could rice be, right? And Madison is helping me, even though she’s a grill chef and thinks that cooking rice is way below her.” She lowered her voice. “She only works with meat stuff. She told me.”

“Okay.”

As Madison looked big enough and tough enough to take anyone in the room, Zach figured he wasn’t going to argue with her.

“So the whole family’s here,” he said.

“Yup. Well, except for Grandpa Lorenzo. He’s still crabby. And Francesca. Katie left a message for her, but she has yet to turn up.”

“Is David coming?”

Mia poured another cup of spices into the simmering rice. “I don’t know. I didn’t call him. He’s really busy with school and stuff.”

That didn’t sound right, Zach thought. But before he could pursue the matter, Katie saw him and came over.

She wore jeans and a tank top that had an assortment of interesting stains. A scarf covered her hair, and there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face. She obviously hadn’t slept or showered.

Funny, he thought as a strange twang bumped up against his heart. She’d never looked more beautiful.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked.

“I’m here to help.”

Her lips curved up in a weary smile. “I’m too desperate to turn you down. Do you want to cut up vegetables or get involved with the chocolate?”

“I’ll do veggies.”

He took his place in the kitchen. Madison gave him a mean-looking knife and a few minutes of instruction on the proper way to cut up vegetables. He hadn’t known there was a wrong way. While John Lennon serenaded them, he worked his way through enough onions to make a football team sob and then started in on eggplants. Amazingly, they were even more weird-looking on the inside.

Katie moved through the kitchen like a general inspecting troops. She stepped in when there was a problem and took continual calls on her cell phone. She never got frustrated, never snapped at anyone, never lost her cool. His admiration clicked up a couple of notches and his attraction…well, it had always been fairly high.

At eight-fifteen Dora arrived with breakfast for everyone. “Bagels, cream cheese, coffee, and fruit salad,” she called as she walked into the kitchen followed by two of the clerks from the law firm. “I figured you’d all be so busy that you’d forget to eat.”

Grateful sighs competed with the music. Zach headed toward his secretary, but Katie beat him to it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she said, taking a bag of bagels and passing it around. “We’re surrounded by food and there’s nothing for breakfast.”

“We could have had ravioli,” Zach teased.

Katie swatted at him. “That’s for tonight. Don’t you know all the best parties have grilled delicacies and pasta?”

There was a faint edge of panic to her voice. Zach moved close and put his arm around her. “You’re doing great,” he breathed in her ear. “The party will go off without a hitch. Just keep telling yourself that by this time tomorrow, it will all be over.”

Before she could respond, the main kitchen doors opened again. A tall, overweight dark-haired woman entered. She carried a small paper bag, which she waved around.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I didn’t check for messages. Sorry, Katie. But I brought my garnish knives. What do you want me to do?”

The CD player chose that moment to switch to a different disk, so the kitchen went silent. Everyone stared at the intruder.

The woman stared back.

“Katie!” she said impatiently. “It’s me. I was already dressed for an experiment when I played my messages.”

Katie gasped. “Francesca?”

Zach stared. Francesca? Katie’s sister? Katie’s pretty, skinny sister?

“It’s a fat suit,” Brenna said, coming up and grabbing a bagel. “She can unzip the extra fat. Doesn’t that just make you want to slap her?”

Francesca ignored her. “I’m here to do garnishes.”

Katie shook her head. “Okay. Great. I don’t care what you look like. You’re a lifesaver. We need as many garnishes as you can make. Let me get you a workstation.”

Zach watched them walk away. Francesca?

Brenna leaned close. “She took this garnish-making class. Frankly, I think she’s taken every craft class known to mankind. I mean, the woman can tat lace.”

Zach didn’t know what that was, but then, he didn’t want to. He stared at her unflattering slacks and shirt, and the brunette wig that should have been tossed a couple of years ago, then remembered Francesca showing up covered in tattoos. Why would a normal person do things like that?

“There’s something wrong with her,” Zach said before he could stop himself.

Brenna handed him a bagel. “You know-I’ve been thinking that same thing for years.”

The first guests arrived shortly before seven. Katie had already spent the previous hour touring the gardens and ballrooms and seeing to final preparations. The serving staff had shown up promptly at four, and the musicians had followed at five-thirty. Now several small combos played in different corners and alcoves, while uniformed servers offered champagne, appetizers, and explained the evening’s menu.

Despite her need to check everything one last time, Katie had abandoned her clipboard and briefcase. Instead she kept a mental list, ticking off twinkle lights, the floral arrangements, and individual grills being fired up.

Maybe, just maybe, this was all going to work out. For the first time since nine yesterday morning, she allowed herself to relax a little.

She heard a footstep on the stone path, but before she could turn, someone lightly cupped her bare upper arms and planted a kiss on the back of her neck.

Shivers danced down her spine. She smiled as Zach slipped an arm around her and drew her close.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, giving her a quick once-over. “For someone who is supposed to be my date, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Not at all. I told you I had to work.”

He smiled. “And I told you I like to watch.” He winked. “But that’s for later.”

He stepped back and looked her over. “You’re beautiful. Not that I’m surprised. You do the transition from ‘upwardly-mobile professional’ to ‘stunning’ very well.”

“Thank you.” She eyed his tailored black tux. “You look very nice yourself. Traditional, yet elegant.”

“I try.”

She allowed herself to lean against him for a couple of seconds. Weariness dogged her, but she refused to give in. Not until the party was over. Then she could collapse for a few days and attempt to figure out how she’d made it all come together. Assuming it did.

“I’ve just come from the front of the hotel,” he said, drawing her toward one of the bars set up under a large tree. “There are limos lined up around the block.”

She touched a hand to her stomach. “I know that’s really good, but it doesn’t help me not be nervous.”

“You’re doing great. No one ever needs to know there was any kind of a glitch.”

“Uh-huh.” She ordered a glass of club soda. “This is when I tell you that Grandma Tessa insisted on serving her fried ravioli. She didn’t want to trust it to anyone else. Even as we speak she’s holding court in one of the tents. Now, if that doesn’t make you quiver with fear, you’re far stronger than I am.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.”

He led her toward the main ballroom. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t ask,” she told him. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

They chatted for a few minutes before Zach saw some clients he needed to speak to. Katie excused herself so she could check on the details.

As she headed for the kitchen, she caught sight of herself in one of the ballroom mirrors. Her sleeveless black dress was dressy enough to allow her to fit in, yet not so fancy that she stood out. With the help of seventeen bobby pins and enough hairspray to lacquer a battle cruiser, she’d managed to secure her hair in an upswept style that looked elegant and stayed out of the way. She had applied two layers of concealer to hide the dark circles that came from not having slept in over thirty-six hours.

Across the room she spotted her parents chatting with a TV sitcom star and his wife. Somewhere in the growing crowd Francesca was probably breaking hearts (assuming she’d chosen to dress like herself for once) and Brenna would be tasting the wine Katie had ordered. While Zach had extended an invitation to her entire family, she’d given them strict orders to stay out of the upscale party. No fishing for diamond bracelets.

In the kitchen she found controlled chaos. Rolling carts filled with trays were moved into position. As she watched, members of the serving staff lined up to take them to the various grilling stations. Mia was already manning one of the dessert tents, where she would no doubt charm everyone into dipping with a smile.

She crossed her fingers and gave a little prayer that somehow disaster had been averted.

Three hours later the party seemed to be doing well. Katie cruised through the smaller ballroom and watched CEOs and multimillionaires bob for baubles or try a ring-toss for the chance at a ski trip. She calculated how many prizes were left, then figured there would be enough for an impromptu auction later.

Zach caught up with her by the doorway.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Good.” She wasn’t going to mention the fact that while her shoes were stylish, they hadn’t been designed for anything close to comfort. After tonight she would probably walk with a limp for the rest of her life, but at least she knew her ankles looked slender.

“There’s something you have to see,” he said, taking her arm and leading her out into the garden.

“Should I be nervous?” she asked.

“That’s up to you.”

He led her toward the bright blue tent illuminated by several spotlights. Her heart sank. “What’s she doing?”

Zach laughed. “Being wonderful.”

Katie appreciated the kind words, but she wasn’t convinced. Sure enough as they entered the tent, she heard Grandma Tessa demanding,

“So, young man, what do you do for a living?”

The “young man” in question had to be pushing fifty and wore a suit that cost close to the GNP of Nebraska. Katie winced.

Her wince turned into a moan when the “young man” answered, “I run a movie studio.”

Grandma Tessa’s gaze narrowed. Katie braced herself to perform some kind of intervention when her grandmother went off on a tirade on R-rated movies with too much sex and bad language.

Instead she leaned across the counter and smiled. “So tell me. Why aren’t there any stars like Sophia Loren anymore? She is such a beauty, even now. These kids today-they’re nothing like her.”

The studio executive slid onto a stool in front of the counter and nodded earnestly. “I agree. The stars from the old days had something really special.”

Grandma Tessa used a pair of tongs to slide several fried raviolis onto a plate, then scooped up marinara sauce into a small bowl. She handed the man both.

“I remember the first time I saw her in a movie. Or Cary Grant. He was really something. Not Italian, of course, but still a very nice-looking man.”

Zach drew Katie back out of the tent. “She’s been doing that all night,” he murmured in her ear. “It doesn’t matter if the guests are part of the cleaning staff or billionaires. She has something to say and they love her. It gets better over here.”

They walked toward one of the dessert tents. Katie had nearly relaxed when a very loud, very drunk-sounding chorus of “Irish Rover” drifted through the night. She swallowed hard.

“Grammy M’s been serving whiskey, hasn’t she?” she asked in a whisper, already knowing the answer.

“For at least the last hour.” Zach grinned. “Everyone’s plastered. They’re having a terrific time.”

Before she could figure out what she wanted to do, Zach led her away. “There’s someone who wants to meet you,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can take any more.”

Which was true. The combination of no sleep and tremendous stress was catching up with her. Even as they walked down one of the twinkle-light-lit paths, she could feel her brain dissolving.

“Just over here,” he said.

They entered one of the private spaces created by trimmed hedges and trees. Several couples sat around a large table. When Zach and Katie appeared, a man stood, then turned to help his very pregnant wife to her feet.

“Hello,” the woman said as she waddled over. “You must be Katie. I’m Sara.” She patted her stomach. “As you can tell, I wasn’t faking the whole baby thing to get out of doing the work.”

Katie may have murmured a greeting, but she couldn’t remember exactly what. The woman looked pregnant enough to be having an entire basketball team. Were there really only two babies in there?

John shook her head. “Wonderful job,” he said. “Simply wonderful. We’ve heard nothing but compliments.”

“It’s true,” Sara said. “I loved all the grilled food and that fried ravioli. I don’t want to think about the calories, but you must get me the recipe. It was divine.”

She nodded at her husband, who led Zach away. Sara slipped her arm through Katie’s and drew her close. “I was wondering,” she said confidentially. “Do you arrange smaller events? John and I would like to host a couple’s shower for the babies, and I would very much like you to plan it.”