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“Jackson?”
“Oh. Sorry. Jackson Trent. My boss. Seems like maybe it’d be a good idea to see if they have availability first.”
“Would his wife want to cater on a night that she’d otherwise be a guest?”
“Oh.” He pursed his lips. “That’s a question.”
“I could be wrong. Or maybe she has people. You said it’s her restaurant, that doesn’t mean she would have to do the work.”
Cody tapped his fingers on his leg. “Maybe it’s worth just asking. I can lay it out for her and say we’d like to support her, but we also don’t want to take her away from a fun evening out with her husband. Let her decide?”
That sounded reasonable to me. I nodded.
Cody glanced at his phone. “Why don’t I call now and see how she responds. Then we know if we need to start at the top of the list and try to figure something else out.”
“Before you do that.” I bit my lip as he turned to look at me. “Do you know what kind of food she serves? Is it the sort of thing you want for this party?”
He blew out a breath. “That’s a good question. I don’t even know what kind of food we’re supposed to have. They’ve always been plated, sit-down dinners at Christmas. But between you and me, it’s always been relatively unappetizing chicken. Would it be bad to mix it up?”
“I can’t answer these questions. Who’s in charge of the gala?”
“Me. I guess. Jackson dumped it on my desk and said ‘have at it.’”
Okay. To me, that sounded like it was all his decision. He seemed so unsure about the whole thing, which was not like him. At least not in my mind. “So. What kind of food do you want to have there?”
“Not chicken.” He shuddered. “Although maybe we have to go with it because of cost? I’d honestly rather have heavy appetizers than a plated meal. More of a cocktail party feel than banquet. Does that make sense?”
“Sure. Is there a program? Speeches or anything?”
“Yeah. Mr. Ballentine likes to give a speech. It’s a mixture of thanking them for being there and being a donor, a kind of end-of-year update of what we’ve been focused on, and then a pitch for more donations.”
“That probably explains the plated dinner then. It’s easier to keep a captive audience if they’re shoving food in their mouth and sitting still.”
Cody snickered, then sighed. “So. Chicken.”
“Not necessarily.” I shifted slightly, stopping the contact between us. It was just too distracting. “What if the majority was the apps, like you said, and a more casual mixing atmosphere—because honestly, I think that’s going to work better at the Torpedo Factory anyway. It’s not like there’s one big ballroom where everyone can be herded together. You’ll be spread out over three floors—you could do some fun things like different types of stations in different locations so people are encouraged to move around and mingle.”
He brightened. “I like that idea. But what about the speech and plea?”
“Hang on.” I navigated to the venue rental page and checked the layouts they had listed. “How many people come usually?”
“We invite around three hundred and end up in the two-fifty range? Why?” He leaned closer to peek at the tablet.
“Okay. So we have tables set up in the main hall. It says two-twenty seated for that space. So you have a few extra tables on the mezzanine—if I recall right, they’ll be able to hear fine as long as Mr. Ballentine is mic’d.” I glanced at Cody. “You’re getting sound, right?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“So for the bulk of the time, it’s appetizer stations in the main hall, mezzanine, and third floor. So people can wander and mingle and fill up on several different kinds of finger foods. Then, when it’s time for the speech? Plated dessert.”
“Plated…dessert?” Cody blinked. “You’re a genius.”
I grinned. His words warmed my soul. “So they’ll sit down at the tables and be served something magnificent. I’m thinking maybe a trio of delights is better than one big slice of cake.”
“Trio of delights. Get you.” Cody nudged me with his elbow. “But I like the way you think. I guess I need to be open to a separate dessert caterer. Maybe a bakery is going to be better for that?”
“Hmm.” That was a possibility I hadn’t stumbled on yet. “Maybe? We need a plan.”
Cody snorted.
