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.”