“I can’t tell you what a relief that is to me.” Mom smiled—the first real smile she’d shown since Meredith entered the room. “I probably haven’t told you, but the only reason I counseled you against buying that house is because I thought you would be stubborn and insist on doing everything yourself. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”
Relief tripped up Meredith’s thoughts. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Now, best not keep Alaine and Major waiting any longer.”
“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 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,
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.”
