Chapter 10

“Please tell me my face isn’t really that puffy.”

“No, Chef.”

“Of course not, Chef.”

Somehow, Major didn’t believe Steven and Jana’s denials. There, for all of Bonneterre to see, his pudgy face filled the TV screen. Sure, the antique-reproduction wardrobe behind him looked good. The bright lights hadn’t washed him out as much in the burgundy coat as it would have if he’d worn the white one, but he couldn’t deny that he looked like a chipmunk on an acorn binge.

“I don’t think I can watch the rest of this. Y’all can stay and watch the whole thing, but don’t forget, we have lunch service going on right now.”

Eyes glued to the TV, his sous chef and head server waved him out of his own office.

“You can handle it, boss.” Steven moved from the edge of the desk into Major’s chair without even looking at him.

Indeed, the kitchen and waitstaff had Monday lunch service well under control. Major headed out into the main room and walked from table to table, chatting with regulars and introducing himself to those he’d never met before. News about this year-old project seemed to be spreading around downtown, and people working in nearby buildings had started coming to Vue de Ceil for weekday lunches, since they would probably never get another chance to see the famed event venue. After all, this was where local-boy-turned-movie-star Cliff Ballantine had held his wedding reception last year.

Not only was Major happy his idea had proved a good one, making him look even better to the Guidrys, but he was happy that it had allowed people like Steven and Jana—who’d been his most loyal part-timers—to work for him full-time instead of just when he needed them for events. And the Guidrys had been happy to put Vue de Ceil to use five days a week, instead of having it sitting empty for weeks and even months at a time.

If only he could have this kind of success in the restaurant’s first year. His stomach twisted. That had been a line of questioning he hadn’t expected from Alaine Delacroix last week. Obviously, Mrs. Guidry had filled the reporter in on every aspect of it except one: that Major hadn’t officially accepted the offer yet.

A flicker of light to his left caught his attention. One set of the reflective elevator doors slid open to reveal Anne Hawthorne, along with several other people—including Meredith. Major tugged the hem of his coat to straighten it and resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair.

In a bright blue sweater, Meredith reminded him of a soothing waterfall. He tried to smile at her when she looked over at him; she smiled back but glanced away again quickly. Avoiding her at church yesterday had been easy, since he always went to the early service and a late Sunday school class; and looking at her now, he couldn’t help but see her standing next to that guy Friday night, dressed to the nines and looking too beautiful for words.

He met them at the perimeter of the room.

“As you can see,” Meredith told the potential clients, “Vue de Ceil definitely has enough capacity to host your event, with room to seat everyone at four- and eight-person tables, if that’s what you want.” She barely spared Major a glance, as if embarrassed to meet his eye again.

Anne stepped forward. “This is Major O’Hara, executive chef for all events held at Boudreaux-Guidry properties.” Anne introduced her clients—a bride who appeared to be hardly out of high school, along with her parents, future mother-in-law, and a couple of grandmothers.

“Oh yes! I was at the New Year’s ball just a few days ago,” the future mother-in-law gushed. “What a wonderful spread of food. If that’s the quality we can look forward to, I definitely recommend this place.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Why wouldn’t Meredith look at him? “It’s my goal to try to serve the best food possible at every event—to make it delicious and memorable.”

“That’s just what we want,” said the mother of the bride. She turned to Anne. “When do you think we can get this booked and set up the menu?”

Anne raised her eyebrows in question to Meredith.

“We can go back down to my office now and look at dates for your event. Once we have that scheduled, Chef O’Hara will develop several sample menus for you to choose from. After that, we’ll set up a tasting.”

This seemed to please everyone, and Meredith herded them back to the elevator.

“Are we still on for two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” Anne asked, slowly bringing up the rear of the group.

“Yeah.” Major frowned. Something was definitely wrong with Meredith. Was she afraid he was going to ask her about her date Friday? “I’ll bring the cost analyses for the menus we talked about.”

Anne nodded. “All right. I’ll see you then.” She glanced over her shoulder at Meredith, who was engrossed in listening to something one of the grandmothers said. “Yes, we have a lot to talk about.” The elevator whisked her away before Major could ask her to clarify that last statement.

Shaking his head, he went back to the kitchen. Steven and Jana came out of his office laughing, though their amusement died as soon as they saw him.

“Great interview, Chef.” Steven smirked.

Jana elbowed Steven hard enough to send him off balance. “It was a good interview. But why didn’t you tell us you’re starting a restaurant?”

Major groaned. So much for asking Alaine not to include that part in what she aired. “It’s not a done deal. I’m still thinking about it.”

“What’s to think about?” Jana’s eyes widened. “Chef, it’s a great opportunity. You’d be wonderful at running a restaurant. And there are a lot of folks here who’d love to work in a restaurant owned by you.”

Major studied Steven’s face. Was his second in command thinking about the day when he’d be running this kitchen? A chill ran down Major’s spine at the thought. Though Steven was a good chef, his people-management skills left a lot to be desired.

He looked back at Jana. In a restaurant environment, she could make three or four times as much money as she did working this lunch service every day. Everyone in the industry knew that people didn’t spend as much or tip as well at lunch as they did for supper—even when ordering off the same menu. Yes, he would definitely take Jana with him.

“As I said, nothing has been decided yet. Believe me, when the decision is made, y’all will be amongst the first to know.” He stepped aside. “Now, please get back to work so I don’t have to fire you for slacking off.”

Sitting at his desk, Major stared at the blank TV screen, wondering if he really wanted to watch the recording of the program when he got home tonight. Just what had he gotten himself into, agreeing to appear on television? Not just the interview, but every week. Would the potential for publicity really be worth the public humiliation?

* * *

“Hey. I’m not late am I?”

Meredith jumped at Major’s voice, her pen striking a blue mark across the page before her. “N–no. I’m just making a list of everything we need to get done today.”

A soft smile hinted at his dimples; Meredith ignored her squirmy stomach—just as she tried to ignore the fact that the dark green shirt he wore made his eyes a vivid violet-blue.

“So, what’s on the agenda?”

What? Oh, right. Meeting. “Hearts to HEARTS: menu and final food budget, staffing requirements, space planning...” She let her voice drift when her mother appeared in the doorway.

“Oh good, Major, you’re here already. Would you both step into my office?”

“Of course.” Meredith glanced at Major, who looked as if he shared her confusion. She took her pen and legal pad with her. At the threshold to her mother’s elaborate office, Meredith hesitated, and Major bumped into her.

One of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen sat in front of her mother’s desk. Black hair lay tumbled in voluptuous curls around the woman’s shoulders—the kind of curls Meredith had prayed for every time she’d subjected her own poor fine, limp hair to perms back in her teens.

Pushing envy aside, she slapped a smile on, armed herself with professional confidence, and strode into the office. The woman stood and extended her right hand.

“Alaine Delacroix,” Mom said, beginning the introduction, “this is Meredith Guidry, our executive director of events and facilities.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” The name clicked in Meredith’s memory. “Alaine Delacroix—from Channel Six?”

Perfect, full lips parted to reveal dazzling white teeth. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, too. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you—about how you’re practically a miracle worker when it comes to planning these social events everyone wants to attend.”

Dreaded heat tingled in Meredith’s cheeks. She hated that compliments still made her blush at her age.

Alaine looked over Meredith’s shoulder, and her nearly black eyes sparkled like diamond-studded onyx. “Hello, Chef.”

Meredith’s heart crashed into an iceberg and succumbed to hypothermia. Stepping aside, she avoided looking at Major, not wanting to see the drool hanging from his mouth at the reporter’s overly warm greeting. She followed her mother to the table and sat.

Ever the gentleman, Major waited to sit until all three ladies had taken their places.

“Alaine is here”—Mom looked from Major to Meredith—“because she has come up with an idea that I’m really excited about. Alaine, why don’t you explain it?”

“I’d be happy to, Mrs. Guidry.”

“Oh, please, it’s Mairee.”

Alaine’s smile beamed at Mom. Meredith thought she might be ill. She could handle when her mom turned on the fake charm for gold key clients. But she wasn’t sure she could stomach these two women fawning over each other.