“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 tres 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.
