"I'm glad we've averted that problem. Now we have another one."
She laid the newspaper she'd brought with her on the desk in front of him, and Bastien glanced down. She'd folded it in half. There were three stories showing.
"I'm guessing you aren't wanting me to look at the story on New York doing a doggie census?" he asked.
"Try the story next to it," she suggested.
" 'Bankrupt Caterer Commits Suicide,'" he read aloud, then glanced up blankly. "So?"
"I'm pretty sure that's Kate's caterer."
"Dear God," Bastien breathed.
"Hmm." Heaving a sigh, Terri dropped into the seat facing his desk. "I'm not positive, though."
They stared at each other for a moment, then Bastien reached for the phone.
"It's just after six A.M. in California," Terri reminded him, having guessed his intention of calling Kate and Lucern.
Bastien hesitated. "Too early?"
"From what Kate's told me about conferences, they last until late at night. She probably won't be up for another hour. And I wouldn't want to wake her up with this news."
"No. You're right." He set the phone back down. "I should wait another hour at least."
"I would," Terri agreed.
Bastien nodded, then began to drum his fingers on the desk. He wasn't used to inactivity in a crisis, but he also didn't have a clue what to do. And this time, even he could see it was a crisis.
"We could make up a list of caterers to contact in case this guy is her caterer," Terri suggested after a moment.
"Good thinking. At least that way, we won't just be calling with bad news. If it is him," Bastien added.
Sincerely hoping it wasn't, he pulled the Yellow Pages out from the drawer where it was stored. Terri stood and walked around the desk to look over his shoulder. Bastien leafed through, looking for the section with caterers. He relaxed a little when he saw that the list was several pages long.
"There are a ton of them," Terri murmured.
"Yes. That's good. Isn't it?"
"Not necessarily," she said. "Many of them will be booked up and unavailable, so we'll waste time calling those, and I haven't a clue which of those left over are good. Do you?"
"Damn," Bastien breathed. He was the detail man, the decision man, the crisis man—the one everyone looked to when a problem cropped up. But he'd never been faced with these kinds of problems. Food wasn't a big priority in Bastien's life, and therefore it wasn't a problem he had any experience dealing with. The only time he had to worry about food was during business meetings that included mortals, and then he just handed the problem over to: "Meredith!"
"Meredith?" Terri asked.
"She'll know which are the good caterers and which are the bad ones, and…" Not bothering to finish his explanation, Bastien picked up the phone again. This time he punched in the number to his office. Meredith picked up on the second ring.
"Argeneau Enterprises."
"Meredith, I think Kate's caterer killed himself," he blurted by way of hello. "I need a list of the best caterers in town. We have to call them all and see which are available for the date of her wedding."
The woman didn't exclaim in horror at this newest tragedy plaguing Kate's wedding, or bother with questions; she simply snapped, "I'm on it. Do you have her menu plan for what she wanted served?"
Bastien blinked, then glanced at Terri. "Do we have a menu plan for what she wanted served at the wedding?" he echoed.
"A menu plan?" She considered for a minute, then straightened abruptly. "I might. She e-mailed it to me. Actually, that e-mail mentioned who the caterer was, too. If I still have it, we might not have to trouble Kate with this at all. Can I use the computer?"
"Be my guest."
Phone still to his ear, Bastien stood and stepped aside for Terri to sit in the desk chair and start up the computer. He didn't bother explaining what was going on to Meredith; she had probably heard anyway. Instead, he watched as the computer warmed up and Terri logged on to the internet. It only took a moment for her to open her e-mail program and find the e-mail needed.
"It was her caterer," she said with a sigh. "But I do have the menu plan. That's something, anyway."
"Forward it to Meredith," Bastien instructed, then gave her his secretary's e-mail address before speaking into the phone again. "Terri's forwarding it to you, Meredith. Is there anything else you need?"
When she said no, and assured him that she'd get back to him directly, Bastien thanked her and said good-bye.
"She's good," he commented as he hung up. "I should give her a raise."