TALL DARK AND HUNGRY Page 0,40

what it's about. Meredith doesn't exaggerate. If she said it was important, it's most cer¬tainly important.

"Just leave the bags here in the entry for now, Terri. I'll get them when I come back," he added as he turned to push the button for the elevator. He stepped onto the lift when the doors opened, then turned back to hold them as he asked Vincent, "Did she see to the kitchen?"

"Oh yeah," his cousin assured him in dry tones. "She saw to that all right. You now have enough food--not to mention dishes--to feed a small army. I hope your guests have healthy appetites. Actually, I know C.K. does. For a skinny guy, he sure eats a lot."

"He's probably bored to tears and eating because of it," Terri suggested.

Vincent seemed to contemplate that possibility, then shook his head. "Nah. He's been editing some book in front of the television. There's some sort of marathon of old British reruns. Pretty good ones, actually."

"You might want to see if there's anything to snack on, Terri. Our dinner reservations aren't until after the play," Bastien suggested as the elevator doors began to slide closed. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Hmm," Terri murmured as the doors clicked shut. "I wonder what the important matter is."

Vincent shrugged. "Meredith didn't say."

"Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough," Terri said philosophically. She finally set down the bags she'd carried up for Bastien. "In the meantime, I'll see about that snack he suggested."

"I'll join you. I could use a bite myself," Vincent announced. And he followed her into the kitchen.

Chapter Seven

"I don't understand why this is such a big problem," Bastien said into the phone with forced patience. He couldn't believe that the important matter Meredith had needed his attention for was to call the florist about the arrangements for Kate and Lucern's wed¬ding. He supposed Kate, as the bride, would think this was important, and he did understand that, but the problem in question seemed rather petty to him. Yet the florist, a fellow with an unfortunately high-pitched voice and an equally unfortunate lisp, was acting as if it were a major catastrophe.

"I've already explained, Mr. Argeneau," the florist said in exasperation. "Our grower's entire crop of Sterling roses was hit by--"

"Yes, yes. Aphids ate them."

"Not aphids, sir," the florist corrected with exag¬gerated patience. "It was--"

"It doesn't matter," Bastien interrupted, his own patience beginning to slip. The man was making this more difficult than necessary. The answer to this dilemma seemed simple enough. "Your grower's roses are gone. So go to another grower."

There was a brief pause, followed by a long-suffering sigh. "Mr. Argeneau, one cannot just drop down to the local nursery and buy several hundred Sterling roses. These are rare flowers. They're snapped up before they've even finished growing."

"So substitute a different rose, then," Bastien suggested.

"The Sterling rose was the centerpiece of the whole wedding!" the man wailed. "All the arrange-ments and colors were chosen to offset it. One can't just--"

Bastien frowned, his ears straining as the fellow suddenly fell silent. He was sure he'd heard a catch in the florist's voice before he'd stopped talking. The guy was really upset. He must be one of those emo¬tional artist types, Bastien decided--though he would never have thought of a florist as an artist. The guy certainly had the temperament, though. "Hello? Roger, was it?"

"Roberto," the man snapped, then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. My assistant just handed me a fax with more bad news. This time about the urns Ms. Leever chose."

"Yes?" Bastien asked warily.

"There was a fire at the plant where they're pro¬duced. It's caused delays. The urns won't get here in time for her wedding."

"Of course they won't," Bastien muttered. He pushed one hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, just put in roses that are as close in color to the origi¬nals as possible, and use urns as close in style and everything will be fine." That seemed a reasonable solution. He gathered by the stony silence that fol¬lowed this suggestion that the florist didn't think so.

"When does Ms. Leever return to the city?" Roberto finally asked.

"I'm not really sure," Bastien admitted. Kate hadn't been too clear on the matter in her rush to get moving, and he hadn't thought to ask when Lucern called to let him know they'd arrived safely. Person¬ally, he almost hoped the couple would be gone the whole two weeks until the wedding. Bastien was pretty sure Kate would hog Terri's time when she came