Jan stared at Bella, who began measuring the living and dining room space, pushing the device over the floor and mumbling numbers to herself. What was the woman doing? All Jan wanted was the names of good furniture stores and some tips on how to set up the living room.
With two memorials still to plan, how in the world did Jan expect to fit in a whole-house decorating project? “I really don’t have much time, Bella. I think I know what I want, but I don’t know where to order the stuff. If you could just…” Lord, what had made her think inviting Bella over would be a simple matter?
“I know you’re busy, dear, which is exactly why you employ an interior ‘desecrator.’” She grinned evilly at the massacre of her profession’s name. “I know every furniture store from here to LA, and I get discounts at all of ’em. You called the right gal, sweetheart.” She took a quick look around the house, wrinkled her nose and held her hands to her ears. “Smells too new and echoes like a cave. We’ll fix that.”
Jan relaxed a bit and checked her watch. “My Dad took Elwood for a walk at one, only agreeing to go when I promised you’d be here for the next hour and we’d lock the doors. Dad drops off the dog and heads home, then Roman shows up to baby sit.” She sighed. “General’s orders.” Opening the refrigerator, she asked, “Something to drink?”
“Absolutely. Let’s grab ourselves some white wine and get to work.”
While Jan poured, Bella walked the living room area, tsking loudly. Set against the afternoon sun, the woman’s curly red hair seemed on fire. When she spread out her arms to embrace the space, her tiny body taut with energy, she looked like an aging sprite, filling the room with magic. “You’ve got glorious vaulted ceilings and oversized carved wood doors, arched like a dream,” she gushed. “In mesquite, you lucky woman. Wood paneled glass French doors to the study. Gorgeous wood floors throughout.” She stopped at the sofa. “You picked a four-seater in a rust red. Going for California Ranch, a modern touch…smooth lines rather than ornate.”
Jan handed Bella her wine, feeling the empty-room albatross sliding off her shoulder. “Exactly. How did you know?”
Pointing to the kitchen, Bella said, “You painted your kitchen walls an earthy red/brown, a nice warm contrast to the black granite and stainless steel appliances. A modern touch. Plus, your sofa lines are contemporary yet comfy. Thing is you need two sofas exactly alike for this big room, facing each other, a gigantic coffee table in between for artsy-craftsies and putting up your feet.” She lifted up a couch cushion, noted the brand and moved on to the dining room.
Pleased her instincts had some merit, Jan was instantly thrilled about the idea of two couches. “They’ve got another one at A&R. I’ll get it here by tomorrow.”
Thumb up from Bella. “A round dining room table in mesquite, to make this room friendly,” she said standing in the middle of the bare space. “Chairs?”
“Cushioned bottoms and backs,” Jan said, getting into the spirit. “All with covered arms, too, so people are comfortable enough to linger after dinner.”
“Perfect. In a color that carries over the kitchen’s rust red. We might pull in some yellow. And blue,” Bella said, looking happy. “Two stuffed barrel chairs over there, looking out onto the golf course, carrying the living space seamlessly to the outdoors. Low glass table in between. Dynamite.” She took a swallow of wine. “Couple of gigantic area rugs to warm up the place. Yup, I’ll make some sketches and gather some swatches.”
When Jan began to protest, Bella waved her hand. “I’ll bill you, my dear. I know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Leaning against the wall in the dining room, her arms spread to emphasize the miles of bareness, Bella asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve got some favorite pictures stashed away?”
Jan wondered if the woman was clairvoyant. Not even Frank knew about her stockpile of portraits. Would Bella think Jan was nuts? She gazed at the spry woman, at home in bright, comfortable clothes, so very much alive, relishing the next adventure. Jan knew at once that Bella would accept the way she closeted pictures; Frank wouldn’t.
“You’re going to make me happy, aren’t you doll?”
With a shrug that belied her wish to please Bella, Jan said, “The room Roman’s sleeping in used to be mine. A few times a year, I’d visit my parents without Frank, since Frank and my dad don’t get along.” She took a breath, realizing she was revealing too much. “Over twelve years of visiting my folks here, I’d take my mother to browse the art galleries in San Luis Obispo. I bought an average of one picture a year.” Jan sighed. “My closet’s full of portraits which have never hung on a wall.”
“You didn’t take any of them with you to Seattle?”
“Frank’s tastes and mine don’t exactly mesh. He likes landscapes; I go for people.”
With a satisfied look, Bella said, “Perfect. I’ll help you arrange them and hang them as soon as we place the furniture.” She took a sip of wine, her eyes on Jan as she drank. “We’re not mixing those landscapes with portraits, are we?” When Jan shook her head, Bella set her empty wine glass down on the kitchen counter. “Shall we tackle the bedrooms, honey?”
Jan felt her heart constrict.
“Not ready for that?” Bella asked, unfazed by Jan’s hesitation. “Then let’s spend a few minutes in your study. After that, I head home to sketch the furniture arrangement and figure out how big we want the rugs. We deal with the bedrooms later, how about?”
Relieved, Jan led the way to her study.
Shaking her head in wonder at the room, Bella spoke of its giant wood-framed windows and French doors facing south toward the breathtaking view of the golf course and the distant mountains. “Your bedroom’s the spitting image of the study isn’t it, on the other side of the living room, right?”
Jan leaned against the frame of the built-in closet. “Yes. My parents used this as a guest bedroom, but I’ll make it a study, with the desk taking in the view.”
“Stunning. Has Roman seen this?”
When Jan thought about where Roman’s nocturnal explorations might have taken him, she said, “I suppose.”
Bella raised an eyebrow. “Knowing Roman, he’s been here. My grandson’s a snoop, let’s face it.”
The idea made Jan feel vulnerable and irritated. She opened the French doors and walked onto the patio.
“It’s his nature as well as his job, sweetie,” Bella said, reading Jan’s mood. “He has a hard time not judging.”
“I wish him good luck finding The Perfect Woman,” Jan muttered as she sat down on a lounge chair, motioning for Bella to join her. When she realized how judgmental she sounded, Jan amended, “Sorry, Bella. Now I’m sounding critical.”
After she’d settled into the chair, the old woman reached over to touch Jan’s arm. “Remember, Sidney was my grandson’s harshest critic. I told Roman I’ll be taking up where Sidney left off.”
“Really?”
Her expression softened. “Roman’s unmerciful on his subjects. Sidney worked hard to curb the boy’s tendency to skewer. Let’s hope I’m tough enough to keep the boy honest.”
Jan rested her hand on Bella’s. “Of course you are. He’ll listen to you because he loves you.”
She massaged her forehead. “I’ve hit seventy, dear,” she said, gazing at the mountain range as if it were too far to reach in the time she had left. “I figure I can keep up with the boy for a couple months until you take over.”
“What?” Jan asked, wondering if she’d misunderstood. “Me? Take over?”
Looking satisfied Bella said, “You’re the only woman he’s ever talked about in the same vein as he discusses his projects. You intrigue him and frustrate him.”
“He didn’t say that,” Jan countered, twisting to read Bella’s expression.
Bella kept her eyes on the horizon. “Not in so many words. But I can tell.”
“But we fight. I don’t believe relationships thrive on conflict. And I think you’re wrong. Roman’s extremely judgmenta
l about me. I’d be surprised if any woman is good enough for him.”
Her penciled eyebrows raised, Bella seemed amused. “He is an exasperating man, my grandson. A challenge even for a strong person like you.”
With a shake of her head, Jan threw off the notion that Roman interested her beyond the sensual. “He’ll stick around until I’m no longer useful to him. Once he’s hijacked all I have on Cliff Barker and Senator Johnson, he’s gone.”
Bella trumped Jan’s pessimism with a wink. “He’s given you a nickname, hasn’t he?”
“What does that prove?”
“I’m Bella Coola,” she said, proudly. “From the name of a town in British Columbia, my grandson says. Who are you?”
She couldn’t help but smile at Roman’s perfect moniker for his grandmother. “Lately he’s calling me ‘Jazz.’ Something about bustling, I think, which he says he doesn’t like.”
“Hmm,” Bella said, grinning. “I happen to know he likes jazz, sweetie.” Bella drew her knees up to her chin. “He had a long term relationship with a woman he’ll tell you about some day. Thought he loved her. They didn’t argue at all, but somehow, she disappointed him. You’ll have to find out why. I hope he’ll tell you about some difficulties he had in public school, too, and how those experiences changed him.” Bella looked sad about her grandson’s pain. She swung her legs off the lounge chair, stood, and straightened her muumuu. “Gotta go, honey. I’ll work on your living and dining rooms and study. Sketches and pictures of the area rugs I have in mind will be ready tonight.” She started for the door, all business.
Jan followed her blindly, thinking about Roman’s school troubles and wondering about the woman who had disappointed Roman. What kind of a person was she?
Bella held open the door and turned, her face lit up with joy. “Roman never gave his old girlfriend a nickname, doll. Get your mind around that.”
****
Roman stood on Jan’s stoop unable to knock on the door. What he’d learned was buzzing in his head along with a quart of adrenaline. Yet he knew he couldn’t share one iota of his newfound information with Jan. Wired this way, he’d have to cover his excitement, tamping his urge to grab Jan and kiss her senseless.
It’s not Jan who’s turning me on. It’s the blowout story I’ve got.
The list of things he wouldn’t tell her had grown in the last hours. She mustn’t know about the meeting he’d had yesterday with the mayor of Arroyo Grande, followed up by a second meeting with the same very pissed off man today. Roman had gleaned some gems out of Jan’s folder on Barker, most notably, the names of two long-term housemaids. He’d interviewed the family’s most recent housekeeper, in the Barker employ for two years. The other woman, who’d been with the family for ten years, would be harder to reach because she was visiting family in Mexico. Her name on the invitation list was marked through so she probably wasn’t flying in for the so-called celebration of Barker’s life.
Madeline Barker had listed three hundred memorial invitees, indicating the person’s relationship to the family next to each name, making it easier for Roman to determine whom he needed to interview. But three hundred people? How could he quickly figure out which ones would give him the truth about old Barker?
Who wasn’t on the list?
It was Mayor Len Simpson’s warning that got his adrenaline going. Frustrated with Roman’s questions on his second visit, the fifty-some skinny, high-strung guy fairly steamed with rage. “Leave it alone, man. Cliff Barker was brilliant, a statesman anyone would want to emulate. Don’t you dare besmirch his name.”
But Roman had been threatened before, often by politicians. None of them liked to talk about their errors; most developed selective memories, conveniently forgetting about their mistakes. No, when men got as defensive as Mayor Simpson had, Roman smelled spoilage. By the time the mayor and his lackeys had thrown him out of the office on visit number two, he was sure he was on to an intriguing story.
Roman punched the doorbell even while he struggled to quell his excitement over Cliff Barker’s secrets. “Don’t touch her,” he reminded himself—until she opened the door looking good enough to eat.
“Hey,” she said, in the mellow, relaxed way that appealed to him. She stood stone still against the door in her black sleeveless shirt and tan shorts, belted to remind him of her curves.
“Shit,” he said as he walked past her into the room, his libido on fire. “You’re killing me, Jazz.”
“I know,” she said, flashing him a sly smile after she closed the door. “You’re fun to mess with.”
Torn between putting his files safely in his bedroom or continuing his banter with Jan, he chose the latter. Screw promises to himself. He dropped the folders on the counter and leaned against the granite, waiting to see what she’d do next.
When he saw a flash of worry in her eyes and a flush in her cheeks, he grinned. She wasn’t a seasoned flirt. He felt a spike of arousal at her naiveté. Enjoying the idea he got to give her confidence, he said, “Successful day, I presume?”
“Perfect,” she said settling on the arm of the couch, her face suffused with pride. “The quilts looked great hanging on the walls.” Jan shook her head, awe in her expression. “Grace left tangible proof of her art as well as her love.”
Roman nodded, appreciating the passion in her words. “You’re the one who figured out how to show off Grace’s craft.” He wanted to pull her into his arms in the worst way, but the five feet between them felt like a chasm and the acoustics in the room made his words sound hollow.
She smiled. “That’s what I like about this job. I get to help people understand how important it is to leave a legacy like Grace did. Maybe a few people who attend our memorials will realize they should go and do likewise.” Raising her eyebrows she added, “Sure gives me a lot to think about for my own legacy.” With a tilt of her head his direction, she said, “You? You have a body of work, important work, to leave behind.”
Roman shrugged at the praise, Sidney’s criticism coming to mind. “From what you’ve told me, Grace was loved by everyone. I’ll probably get gate crashers at my memorial, who will heave rotten tomatoes at my coffin.” He pointed at her. “You’d be in the front row with a carton of eggs at the ready.”
With a laugh she pushed her fingers through her hair, looking younger and more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
I did that. I like making her slow down and enjoy life.
Liar. You’ll take that smile off her face by stirring up trouble with Cliff Barker.
“I called Tess and Madeline,” she said, as if she’d read his mind.
Unnerved, he adjusted his position against the kitchen counter, waiting to hear the bad news.
“With encouragement from my dad, I called them both and faxed Madeline the bill.” She made a hand-washing gesture. “I like the feeling of dropping Madeline, but I’ve been thinking hard about Tess since Grace’s funeral. I apologized to her for my inability to make her mother stop the memorial, telling her the best way I could signal my protest was to resign from the job. ‘Damn you,’ she yelled at me before she started crying.” Jan shook her head. “I felt like a coward. And the crying…her crying…I…”
“You could still help Tess.”
“I know. Maybe I will.” She rose from the couch and walked over to the coffeepot, looking like she was going to fiddle with it. She didn’t, seeming to order her hands to her side. “Elwood and Dad are out walking.” A glance at her watch. “They should be back in about fifteen minutes.”
Good, he thought, his hand on her Barker folder. In that time he could check over the list of invitees and see who might be missing from the three hundred names. The idea gave him such a spurt of energy, he moved toward Jan and placed his hands on her exposed shoulders. He cupped them in his palms, amazed at her fragility at the same time he sensed her tension. She was wary of him, he figured. And she should be.
Roman knew the things he was keeping from her had the power to hurt her, bu
t he still wouldn’t speak of them. Too early to judge. Nothing conclusive. My story. My angle. My rush.
He ran his finger down her bare arms, grasped her hands and placed them on his own shoulders. “I should be doing something productive with these precious fifteen minutes.”
With a raise of her eyebrow, she said, “As should I.”
Neither moved.
“You look guilty,” she said. “About this?” she added, squeezing his shoulders.
He smiled. “No guilt here.” A nibble on her lip earned him a hum from her throat.
Drawing her close to him, he kissed her, losing himself in the joy of it. Afterward, she nestled into his neck while he rubbed her back.
“You’ve gone after Cliff Barker, haven’t you?”
Stepping away so he could look into her eyes, he tried to gauge the best way to answer her. He wasn’t used to people guessing his secrets, much less letting people in on them. For the first time, he wondered if his actions were more mercenary than dedicated. “It’s my nature,” he answered.
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Your nature, I mean.”
“I wish you’d like it. And that you’d like me.”
Giving him a measured look, she said, “I wonder if I can? As much as I enjoy this,” she said, as she touched his lips with her finger, “I’m not sure I respect what’s here,” she added, her palm on his heart.
He felt lightheaded, the adrenaline gone and worry over disappointing her filling in all the empty places. Feeling desperate, he kissed her hard, hoping the gesture might help her understand him.
A smile broadened her lips, interrupting their kiss, so he pulled away. “Something funny?”
She shook her head. “No offense. But right now I want words. Tell me what you’ve found out about Barker.”
Taken aback, he said, “Why, Jazz? You dropped them.”
A lift of her shoulder, then: “I’ve decided one way I’ll get to know you is to learn about what you’re up to. Maybe if you lay it all out to me, so I understand your motives and your reasoning, I’ll respect your principles and your product.” She turned from him looking regretful. “Or not.”
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