The priest glanced up. "During the party?"

"Why not? We could slip away to a conference room for fifteen minutes or so. It's the best way to get Vanda's cooperation. She'll know almost everyone in attendance, so I doubt she'll create a scene in front of them. Her sense of pride is bigger than her anger."

"She could simply refuse to attend the party."

Phil shrugged. "Then we won't tell her what we're planning to do."

"Young man, that is not how I normally do business."

"Vanda is not your normal customer."

Father Andrew winced. "That's true. But counseling should be based on trust. How will she ever trust us if we resort to trickery?"

"If we ask nicely, she'll refuse. Think of this as an intervention."

Father Andrew frowned as he considered. Then, with a sigh, he wrote in his day-timer. "All right, we'll try it your way. But I can't say I feel good about this maneuver. What if it triggers an extreme outburst of anger?"

"Then we'll help her learn how to manage it. That's the whole point, right?"

Father Andrew nodded slowly. "You're not afraid of her rage, then. That could be a good thing." He slid the day-timer back into his coat pocket. "That may be where Gregori and I went wrong the first time. I taught her relaxation exercises, and Gregori tried to keep everything very calm."

Phil shook his head. "You have to confront the beast in order to tame it. Believe me, I know."

"I see your point." Father Andrew extended a hand. "Thank you, Phil."

He shook the priest's hand. "You're welcome."

Father Andrew headed back to the meeting hall, then paused at the door. "There's one more thing. I…hesitate to even bring it up. You're probably already aware of the rules concerning sponsorship, and given the fact that you're two entirely different species…"

"What are you saying, Father?" Phil asked.