Chapter Three

“You write documentaries about important people, Roman. Why wouldn’t we choose you to eulogize your grandfather?” Bella Keller asked as she cut a small lime in two.

Lime? He looked at his watch. Ahh, three o’clock meant gin and tonics. The thing with the funeral planner had distracted him from remembering his grandparents’ cocktail schedule.

Bella’s determined look kept Roman silent while she filled two giant glasses with ice, squeezed half a lime in each, rubbed lime peel around the rims of the glasses, then poured two jiggers of expensive gin in each. Tonic followed.

If the day was sunny, as most fall days were in the Central Coast of California, Bella and Sidney had a “pre-cocktail hour” gin and tonic. But Sidney wasn’t joining them this afternoon.

“He’s here,” Bella said, as if she’d read Roman’s mind. “Your grandfather would kill me if I missed our favorite drink in the sun. Sidney’s joining us, in spirit.” Dumping beer nuts in a bowl, she grabbed her own drink and nodded toward Roman’s glass and the nuts, indicating he should bring them. She led the way to a sun-drenched patio.

What could he do but trail after his seventy-year-old grandmother, decked out in red shorts and a pink T-shirt that hollered “WICKED” in sequins. Bella had been a flashy dresser all the years he’d known her, much to the delight of Sidney.

“Isn’t she hip?” Sid would ask Roman. “Don’t I have the youngest-looking wife in all of California?”

Though Roman knew he was supposed to nod and smile at his grandparents’ eccentricities, he’d always felt like a fool doing it. But today, in the presence of his lonely grandmother, Roman grinned, took a sip of his drink and raised the glass to the tiny woman stretched out on the lounge chair next to him. “Good as usual, Grandma. Thanks.”

While he drank, Roman prepared his escape plan. In a half hour he’d race to Santa Barbara and dig into his new documentary on Senator Harold Johnson. Deadline a week from today or sooner. No ifs or buts, the producer had warned, leaving Roman wondering if he’d have time to fit in some research on the funeral industry.

Bella must have seen his harried look. “Don’t you be eyeing the door, Roman. We have a lot to talk about.”

“But, I—” Roman protested, feeling off-kilter with Bella’s neon-sequined T-shirt winking at him in the sun. He wanted to support Bella, but eulogizing Sidney was not the kind of help he had in mind.

She raised her hand to stop him from speaking. “I want to know why you didn’t set up a time with Jan Solvang. She promised she’d save two hours for you today.”

He inhaled the scent of citrus, hoping it might sharpen his thinking. After a generous swallow, he leaned back on the lounge chair, waiting for the bubbly tonic to deliver a jolt of clarity to his frazzled brain.

Be gentle. Be calm.

He took a deep breath. “I’m surprised you picked me for the eulogy.” He set his glass on the table between them. “I thought I’d better ask if you were sure about the choice before I worked with the lady.”

Bella drilled him with a look. “Sidney wanted you, honey, and so do I. Jan helped me run through other possibilities, but in the end, I had to agree with Sidney that you’d MC the event more effectively than any other relative or friend. Sweetie, he was a historian and you script documentaries. How could he pick anyone else?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Roman said, leaning toward her. “He hated my work.”

An indulgent smile made her face a mass of deep, brown wrinkles. “He challenged you to dig deeper, build perspective and search for truth.” Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “I guess that’s my job, now.” She straightened, taking control of her emotions. “His criticism showed how much he loved you.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Weekly e-mail and letters of scathing critique said something, but it sure didn’t feel like love.” He took up his drink and tipped it to his mouth, hoping to quell his irritation. Over the years, Sidney’s criticism of Roman’s work was as ubiquitous and painful as a hangnail that wouldn’t heal. “Sid called me a modern muckraker. He never liked anything I wrote.”

Bella smiled, eyes closed, her face turned to the sun. “Nonsense. Sidney wouldn’t have spent the time and effort to help you unless he thought you could improve, dear.”

“Improve? This last year he’d doubled his critiques and ramped up his scathing index. He treated me like a novice, Grandma,” Roman said, wincing at the nascent whine in his voice.

She turned her head to look at Roman, her eyes filled with tears. “I think he knew he was out of time.”

Reaching over to squeeze her hand, Roman said, “I’m so sorry, Grandma. Men as ornery as Sid are supposed to live to be a hundred.”

Bella patted his arm. “You were good to visit us every few months. I wouldn’t let Sidney talk about your work when you were a guest in our home, but I had little control over the e-mails and letters he sent you in between visits. Still, I know his remarks were gestures of affection, not meant to wound you.”

A look at Bella’s sad face filled Roman with guilt. His grandmother had lost Sidney. How could he balk at helping her? What’s more he was scheming about using his grandmother’s experience for a new exposé. Older people were being scammed by herds of opportunists in sheep’s clothing. Cemetery and funeral home directors, trust and life insurance salespeople, reverse mortgage and charity scam artists. They all mined obituaries, targeting the old, the grieving, and the vulnerable. By God, it was his job to bring these death squads to their knees.

He refocused on Bella. With a touch on her hand, he said, “Sidney treated you like a queen, Bella Coola. Rightly so. I’ll always admire him for that.”

She smiled broadly at his nickname for her. “He did, indeed. And soon you’ll appreciate his other skills, I promise.”

Roman took a swallow of his drink, fortifying himself to mend fences. Even if Sidney had been a lifetime nag, Roman would humble himself for the sake of his grandmother. “Jan Solvang and her dog are not fans of mine, especially after I called her a channeler.” He shrugged. “I’d never heard of a funeral planner, so I suspected she might be taking advantage of you, Grandma.”

A glance at the red-haired woman lounging next to him, her heavily penciled eyebrow raised, gave him his answer. “But no one’s ever taken advantage of you, have they?”

She wiggled her hot pink manicured fingernails. “Not since eighth grade when Jimmy Michaels got fresh with me.”

Grimacing at the reminder of Jimmy’s story, a boy his grandmother had cold-cocked and who supposedly carried a scar to this day, Roman switched the subject to Jan Solvang. “She did seem miffed by my questions. Defensive.”

“She’s good, Roman,” Bella said. “Sidney and I found out about her from other people she helped. Jan Solvang and her father will give our Sidney a magnificent memorial.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you offend them so much they drop us.”

He felt heat rise from his neck. Have I mucked things up?

Bella raised an eyebrow. “No one else does their kind of work. It’s a brand new concept.” She sat back, her thin frame swallowed by the lounge chair, her voice too soft. “I need her to give my Sidney a proper send-off.”

With me fighting you the whole way. What a prince I am.

He knocked himself off his high horse. “I just wanted to check her out for you, Grandma. Your neighbor, Pete, likes her. She does seem…uh…energetic and…capable.” He wouldn’t describe how she’d fainted dead away, knocked down by the contents of a letter.

Bella sat up and swung her feet to the patio floor, animated by his descriptors. “About everything except furnishing her house. I’m itching to get in there and help her if she’ll only ask. Lord knows I need something to do besides think about how much I miss Sidney.” Bella pinched Roman’s shoulder, seeming to relish the idea that Roman was sitting beside her, very much alive. “But she’s gorgeous, isn’t she? I’d kill to be able to wear a sleeveless shirt the way she can. Not a sag or a wrinkle in those tanned arms.” Bella tugged on her T-shirt sleeves to cover more of her skin. “Don’t look,” she warned him.

Roman gave a polite smile and averted his eyes, interested in Bella’s description of Jan. The funeral planner was fit, all right. Except for her fainting spell, she was a bustler, bristling with energy. Frankly, he preferred his women more tranquil.

The thick folder on Cliff Barker lying on her desk? Now, that was something he’d definitely like to get his arms around. Always wanted to dig into that guy’s life. Better yet, give Roman an hour on Jan’s computer and he’d find out all he needed to know about the underbelly of This is Your Life, Inc., as well as Cliff Barker.

“Roman?”

“Sorry, Grandma. I was thinking about Jan’s house. How empty it was.” He took a breath. Deciding he needed to put himself in a better light, he said, “She provides a service, Grandma. It’s her job to disclose exactly what she does and give a rationale for her billing.” He shrugged. “Lots of creeps take advantage of older, retired people. Sometimes it’s hard to separate the legit ones from the rip-offs unless you take an objective look at them. That’s why I didn’t consult with you first.”

Bella nodded, appearing mollified. She picked up her glass and tipped it to her lips. Abruptly, she stopped, the ice in the glass clinking in protest. Frowning at Roman and holding her drink aside, she said, “Wait a minute. Did I hear you say her dog didn’t like you?”

The dog? Roman remembered the little black thing jumping around and barking at him when he arrived. For some of the visit, the animal stood guard by Jan’s legs. Tanned, slim legs. The growling dog had brought his attention to the legs.

Yeah, right.

Grandma’s chest flashed “WICKED” at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “The dog barked a lot at first and when he was in the room, he growled at me.”

Bella set her drink down hard, looking worried. “Well, that’s a problem we have to solve. They could drop us like yesterday’s newspaper if her mother’s dog doesn’t like you.”

****

Jan knelt in the wet grass, her screwdriver poised while she watched the sprinkler pop up, hiss and spit, then deliver a spray of water to a portion of her garden and lawn. Her house. Her lawn and garden. Her dammed watering system.

She now owned a house on a golf course and damn it, she was going to learn how to take care of it herself. A vision of Frank rolling his eyes at her attempt made her even more committed; whatever household problems developed in their Seattle condo, she’d always deferred to him to fix them. No more.

Elwood bounced into view, ready for play. He chewed on the water gushing from the sprinkler. Dumb, but cute. Reminding her she also owned an unruly dog. Now wet and stinky.

She’d decided to fix the sprinkler after a series of futile phone calls to clients. The widow Barker wanted a nice eulogy delivered by one of her six children. Seemed like a simple request to Jan. Tess, the only daughter, refused to speak. On the second go-around of phone calls from Jan, each of Barker’s five sons refused to take the podium at the memorial, giving the usual excuses about being inept at speechwriting and lousy at talking in front of a crowd. Interesting that not one of them said no because he’d get too emotional to deliver the speech.

Worse, the daughter had begged Jan to persuade the widow to cancel the memorial altogether. Stick to a simple church service. Please, she’d begged. Fifteen fervent “pleases,” Jan counted. What was up with that?

Only six days until the event. “I might be delivering the family eulogy myself,” she grumbled as she fussed with the sprinkler head.

“Hello?” came a male voice behind her.

Elwood’s growl spoke volumes. She didn’t need to turn around to identify her visitor. Didn’t the guy know how to use a phone? She waved with her screwdriver before she applied the tool to the sprinkler. Unless Roman Keller wanted to get wet, he’d have to stand behind her with a view of her backside. Too bad. He’d caught her in a dead faint. Why be concerned about her butt in the air?

She analyzed the breadth of the spray after her adjustment. Satisfied, she rose, walked to the water meter, flipped it to “Off” and turned to him.

Elwood stayed by her side, grumbling at the guy.

“Got it under control?” he asked, observing her wet clothes.

Jan looked down at her soaked T-shirt and shorts and dirty knees. She gestured at the offending pop-up with the screwdriver. “The jury’s still out. My first experience with a sprinkler system.”

“Need some help?”

With a shake of her head, she pulled her T-shirt away from her chest. He’d seen enough of her attributes already, thanks to a gaping halter top. Still, the flutter of excitement she felt at the memory surprised her. Was it possible she wanted him to find her attractive?

“I read up on how to fix errant sprinkler heads. They forgot to say I’d get soaked.”

He smiled in a neighborly way. “Not possible without a shower, is it?” Shifting his weight from one side to the other, he seemed unsure about what to say next. “Jan. May I call you Jan?” At her nod, he glanced at the irritated dog. “So this is Elwood. Bella says he’s your mom’s. Sorry to hear you lost your mother, Jan.”

“Thanks.” She paused, surveying the yard, where her mother had spent countless hours nurturing her prize roses and three kinds of lavender. Taking care of the yard and the dog for her mother made her feel grounded, Jan realized.

Keller put his hands in his pockets and raised his eyes to hers. Sheepish. The looseness around his mouth made her think he might have been drinking. She had the urge to move closer to him to sniff his breath. The thought that she was interested in the smell of the guy startled her so much she gave her head a shake.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “If sun and working outside made you faint before, should you be out here now?”

She felt warmth creep up her neck to her face, part anger, part embarrassment. This man had seen her when she was literally floored, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was now taking pleasure in dangling her lie in front of her.

“I’m fine, Mr. Keller. Rested and taking it slow.” She inhaled, chiding herself for getting upset. “I’d appreciate if you’d keep the swoon between you and me. I don’t want to worry Bella.”

“Already forgotten,” he insisted with a wave of his hand. “First name basis, okay? Please, call me Roman. My grandmother and I had a talk over her famous gin and tonics. In a while, I’ll take Bella shopping. Her sister’s coming from the Midwest tomorrow so she wants to buy groceries.”

Jan bent over to soothe the still-rumbling Elwood, with no effect. At least the little guy didn’t stray from his position at her feet.

Keller gestured toward his grandmother’s house, three doors down. “Bella wants me to make peace with your dog. For some reason, she thinks if your Scottie doesn’t like me, you won’t help with Sidney’s memorial.”

As if in answer, Elwood barked and added a howl for good measure, his black beard flipping back and forth in agitation.

Jan tried not to smile. “She didn’t explain?”

“She said I’d have to find out for myself. Threw me out of the house to discover the answer as well as make an appointment with you to work on Sidney’s memorial.”

She brushed the dirt off her knees, transferring mud to her palms. With a sigh, she rubbed her dirty hands on her wet shorts. Straightening her spine, Jan said, “Today I told my dad I didn’t want to work for your family. We’re used to serving clients who know and like our work.”

When Keller looked like he was going to speak, she shook her head to stop him. “I promised my dad. Bella will be my next-to-last client before I close up my house and head for Seattle.” She squinted at him. “You live in Santa Barbara, right?” At his nod, she said, “You probably want to get home tonight.”

Vigorous nod.

“We’ll meet after dinner. Here. Six-thirty to eight-thirty.”

Keller looked relieved, then troubled by the grumble coming from Elwood. Jan couldn’t help herself. If she was forced to take on Roman Keller, she deserved to have a little fun with him.

She half-turned to her door. “Just so you know. Elwood’s an important member of the funeral planning team. He goes with us everywhere, to soothe our clients.”

Keller blinked, waiting for more information.

“Don’t ask me why,” Jan said, “but my mother’s dog is fixated on shadows. She named him for the guy in the play who sees a giant rabbit named Harvey. Our Elwood prefers to track shadows. Because of that quirk, families of the deceased regard him as a touchstone, like he’s got one paw in the spiritual world.” She added, “My mom’s idea, not mine. But that’s why Elwood’s picture graces our business card.”

Jan paused for dramatic effect, then sent him a wry look. “Elwood’s never, ever, growled at a person. You’re the first, Mr. Keller.”