“The idea actually came to me because of meeting you, Chef O’Hara.” The dark eyes twinkled at Major again. “I thought it would be a good idea to create a news special on all of the planning that goes into the Hearts to HEARTS banquet. Kind of like the shows they do on the food channel—but not just about the food. About everything that goes into the event.”

“That’s where you come in, Meredith.” Mom leaned forward, more excited than she’d been when Meredith landed the contract for Senator Kyler’s inauguration ball. “Alaine is going to set up a time to talk to you so you can explain everything you’ve already done. And she’s brought her cameraman with her today so that they can observe your planning meeting.”

Meredith balled her hands together in her lap and tried to maintain a neutral expression. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” A reporter following her around, scrutinizing every decision she made? Great. Just great.

“Now, Major, the other part involves you,” Mom continued. “Alaine is to be given access to the kitchen during the week before the event so she can get footage of y’all making everything, so you’ll need to let her know that schedule. Oh, and you two still need to work out the schedule for the weekly cooking segment on her program.”

Meredith swallowed hard, gritting her teeth against the desire to ask why she’d ever been made an executive director if Mom and Dad were going to continue making these kinds of decisions without consulting her. Meredith was beginning to believe Anne hadn’t been completely honest about why she’d decided to leave B-G and start her own business.

“Major, if you can come back when you and Meredith finish your meeting, we’ll discuss the details.” Mom placed her palms flat on the tabletop and stood. “I know you have a lot of work to do, so I’ll let you get to it. Alaine, Major, if you’ll go ahead, I need a few words with Meredith.”

Partially out of her chair, Meredith sank back into it, pulse thudding. Had she not done a good enough job hiding her reactions to her mother’s pronouncements?

Mom made sure the door closed firmly behind Alaine and Major before rejoining Meredith at the table. “I have a couple of questions now that I’ve had time to dig into your report.” She flipped open her thick planner.

Meredith cringed. If Mom took the time to write everything down, this would be no quick chat.

“First, you sort of glazed over this in our meeting earlier, but the final financial report ... I noticed the expenditure was nearly twenty percent below last year’s. What happened?”

Any other employer would have been praising Meredith for saving the company money, not questioning her as if she’d done something wrong. “I spent a lot more time this year negotiating rates and working out trade agreements.”

“No cutting corners anywhere? Nothing that takes advantage of anyone?”

Disbelief and shock pulled at Meredith’s bottom jaw, and she stared at her mother. “I would never compromise my integrity—nor B-G’s—like that.”

“Calm down. I’m not saying you did. I was just confused by how the final number could have been that much lower.” Mom looked back down at her list, asked about some of the complaints detailed in the report: valet parking attendants too slow; tables bussed too fast; band too loud; lights too dim—“Pretty much the same complaints as at every event, so just keep working on that.”

Same complaints ... probably by the same people. Meredith scrawled something illegible on her notepad as if taking it seriously.

Mom studied her notes for a moment then closed the planner. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been keeping something from me.”

Ward. Of course. The receptionists had no doubt blabbed about his coming here to pick her up. She hated the idea that her personal life was fodder for watercooler gossip around the office. But she also knew her mother’s way of getting information out of people. “What are you talking about?”

“Jenn told me you’ve hired a contractor for your house.”

Defensive words gathered in a ball in the back of Meredith’s throat. “What? Oh, yeah—well, I haven’t officially hired him. I ran into him at the hardware store last Monday and asked for a bid.”

“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’s table in Meredith’s office.

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, Hang in there, you’re doing fine.

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.”