Fadeout

by Rolynn Anderson

  Roman leaned against the barbecue, wishing he had a video camera in his hand. In her pink sleeveless shirt and white capris, sun glinting off her blonde hair, Jan looked radiant. With her arms waving, fingers pointing and words flowing, she painted a picture of Sidney’s memorial for Roman, an image so detailed and so fitting he was sure of the event’s success.

  She didn’t even know Sidney, yet she was able to capture the best of his history.

  Roman wondered why he couldn’t do the same.

  Jan interrupted his musings. “Hey, you with me?”

  He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Totally. What’s next?”

  “Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the picnic table. “We’re going to work on the speeches.”

  “Speech-es?” he asked, emphasizing the plural.

  Jan lifted a folder, a thermos, two paper cups, and a bag of cookies from her rucksack. While she poured the coffee, she said, “Yup. You’re the MC…three sections to the ceremony.” Opening the plastic bag of chocolate chip cookies, she took one and gave him the rest. She sipped coffee, bit into her cookie and opened her folder.

  Roman decided he’d like a video of Jan eating. Drinking. Perusing an outline. Everything she did seemed worth memorizing.

  “You still with me?” she asked with a glance at her watch. “We have a furniture delivery at my house in four hours. Somehow we’ve got to find some time for me to read your Johnson script. Sidney, first. Ready to start?”

  “Sure. Three speeches. Go.”

  “Good. Part one. Your grandfather’s own history. I’ve checked the attendee list and what with nieces, nephews, uncles, aunts, and so on, every age group seems represented. I’ve mapped out a fifteen-part history of Sidney’s life. To begin each segment, you’ll have a designated person in the audience stand up, representing Sid’s age at the time. You’ll introduce the person who’s risen as a way of honoring their presence and place in Sidney’s life. Then you’ll follow up with the history segment for that era of your grandfather’s chronology.”

  “Wow. That’ll take some heavy research and coordination. Are you sure—?”

  She waved her hand. “It’s done. Bella and I developed the outline, but you can add details as you see fit.” She selected a page from her stack. “For example, you’ll have your cousin, Bill, stand up to represent Sidney’s age, twenty-one, when he first entered the Coast Guard. We picked Bill not only because he’s the right age, but also because he’s joining the Marines. You’ll deliver a couple sentences about who Bill is, followed by four or five sentences capturing Sidney’s contributions in the Coast Guard.”

  Roman shook his head, stunned by her concept. He saw how his grandfather’s history would come to life. Add to that her clever way of involving the audience. “Hmm. Could be fun.”

  Jan smiled. “Memorials don’t have to be sad or boring. These are rich memories we’re trying to portray.”

  He nodded, eager to learn how she’d choreographed the second speech. “Next?”

  “We have one woman and four men, all historians, speak next. I decided they should tell their stories in chronological order, those who suffered Sidney’s critique longest to the shortest.” She winked at him. “You’re the short man. Last.”

  Roman rubbed his forehead. “I get to tell my side?”

  She shrugged. “Your decision. Bella and I agreed; you’re on your own.” Jan pursed her lips. “Five minutes each. Period.”

  He took a breath. “Okay. Last section?”

  “Family. Bella. Your dad. Say a few words about the extraordinary relationship Bella and Sidney had, your grandfather’s influence on your dad and mom. His charities. How he’ll be missed.” She paused. “Thank the group for coming and lead them to the restaurant. Mingle, talk about Sidney with the attendees, eat and once again, thank people for coming.”

  Roman rubbed his forehead. “Sounds simple.”

  She touched his wrist. “Losing a loved one is never easy. But if we highlight memories thoughtfully, they’ll stay with us, warming our hearts instead of causing pain.” She leaned forward. “That’s my job as a funeral planner. Helping people find a way to hold memories in a healthy way.”

  A lump settled in Roman’s throat. He couldn’t decide if it was caused by his feelings for Jan or his guilt over his grandfather. Both?

  “Sound impossible?” she asked, looking a little embarrassed about her philosophy.

  “N…No,” he said, bumbling the word. “You’re good at this, Jazz. Very good.”

  She put her elbows on the table, her chin perched on her clasped hands “Thanks. From you, a scriptwriter, I especially appreciate the compliment.”

  “I owe you a huge apology.”

  She looked puzzled. “You do?”

  Roman nodded. “You’re worth every penny you’re charging Bella.” He surveyed the garden and rested his palm on her folder. “No funeral director could or would put in your kind of effort and creativity.”

  Her answering million-watt smile caused a quake in his brain, unearthing a need to please her again and again. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but I’ve developed a respect for Sidney, an appreciation for him I never had before.”

  “Thanks.”

  He sensed sadness in her tone. “Your Mom, Jazz? You thinking of her?”

  Nodding, she said, “You’re reminding me of how helpless and hopeless I felt when I watched my mother die. Plus I was mad at everyone: my dad, the doctors and my mom. Myself. Her death was the ultimate example of a thing I could not control, even organize.”

  Roman stroked her hand.

  She smiled her thanks. “I was lost until I remembered the way my mom had lived and loved, not the way she died. The people she influenced. Her personality and style of dress. Quirky habits. Funny sayings. In essence, as soon as I began to plan my mother’s memorial, centered on her love of golf, family, and friends, I got healthier.”

  Roman took up her hand and kissed it.

  “I want the same for you and Bella. Sidney’s ceremony should be enlightening, uplifting, and even joyful. I’ll do all I can to accomplish those goals for your family.”

  She took a sheet of paper out of the folder and stood. “I’m walking over to the restaurant to make sure they’re set up for Friday. Okay if I leave you here to draft your speeches?”

  Roman glanced at the speech outline, realizing how much work he had to do. Yet he wanted to see the restaurant as well as watch her organize the staff. Jan had gotten him so caught up in Sidney’s memorial it now had the pull of a favorite project.

  She must have sensed his conflict. “Or, I could run a few errands downtown, return in an hour and we could both go to the restaurant. Which?”

  “Second plan. Perfect,” he said, deciding she must have read his mind. Or his face. His posture? He tried to remember when any woman besides his mother had been so astute. Unnerved, he extricated himself from the picnic table and embraced Jan before she could protest.

  “What?” she said in his ear.

  “I may be going crazy, Jazz.”

  She stepped back, looking concerned. “Because of Sidney’s memorial?”

  He smiled while he rubbed her arms, loving the feel of her silky smooth skin against his palms. “It’s…I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I’d rather be with you, even run errands with you, instead of work on my speech, do research on a script…anything else.”

  “That is crazy.” A smile. “But nice, too.”

  Tracing his thumb over the cut on her cheek, he asked, “You sure it’s safe for you to go alone?”

  “I’m walking to three different stores in a four block radius with people all around me. Of course I’m safe.” She stood tall. “I’m going. You’re staying here to work. See you in less than an hour.”

  Pivoting on her heel and anchoring her purse strap to her shoulder, she started for the abbey gates.

  “Wait.”

  She turned and went still. “Wh—?”

  He captured her lips wi
th his before she had a chance to finish the word, all the while, struggling to contain a gnawing feeling of desperation. God, he wanted her in the worst way. To stay, not to move. To be his. It took every fiber of his being to marshal his emotions and kiss her tenderly, teasingly, instead of fiercely. And the relief he felt when she kissed him back and gave the little groan he liked so much…”Jazz.”

  “We’re in an abbey, Roman.” Her smile was indulgent as she shifted out of his embrace. “And we have work to do.” She turned to the courtyard and walked away.

  Roman’s desire to sprint after her was so powerful, he had to order his feet to march the other direction. To the picnic table. Sit. Open the folder. Don’t look up. Draft the speeches. Make her happy.

  ****

  Tess drove her Prius slowly through the streets of San Luis Obispo, testing her level of control. If she could keep to the speed limit, honor the traffic lights and road signs as well as parallel park, she could handle anything, couldn’t she?

  The grill of a gray car filled up her rear-view mirror. “Pass me if you want to, buddy. I’m not going any faster than thirty-five.”

  Her first errand: the bank. Draw out five thousand dollars to bribe the funeral planner.

  Tess’s days of cowering behind doors were over. To think she’d actually considered killing herself with her father’s gun, abandoning her brothers and proving her father had won. She patted the pocket of her shorts, relieved to feel the outline of the gun. It wasn’t for her anymore. It was the memorial service that needed killing. The funeral planner had promised to help. Tess would find her and offer money to make sure the woman delivered.

  The problem was the woman’s partner, Roman Keller. When Tess heard about Keller through the mayor’s publicist, she’d Googled him and read about his work. Knew he’d be the last person to let them bury family secrets with her father’s body. No, Jan Solvang, alone, would save the Barker family from certain destruction. Tess would pay the woman for her troubles. If Roman Keller attempted to interfere, she’d see to it that he was stopped.

  She drove her car out of the bank parking lot and headed for Highway 101, slowly and in control, proud of her deft maneuvering even while she came up with a plan to elicit Jan Solvang’s help. Tess had gotten enough information out of her mother to locate the funeral planner this morning. As soon as she found the lady alone at the Mission, she’d make her final plea. If the man wasn’t around, Tess had no reason to use the gun.

  Merging onto 101, she hugged the right hand lane, deciding to stay ten below the speed limit. More control. She looked in the rear view mirror to see what trouble she was causing. When she saw a tan car behind her, matching her speed, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God she wasn’t the only person taking it slow.

  ****

  Jan stood in The Pottery Barn, debating candleholder size and candle color. Sidney’s urn of ashes in a simple terra cotta jar would rest between two large red bromeliads, meshing nicely with the multitude of cacti in the abbey’s garden. In front of the flowers, she’d place fat eight-inch candles in glass containers tall enough to shield the flames from breezes. Yellow candles? White? Cream, to match the terra cotta?

  Cream. Yes.

  “May I help you?” asked the clerk.

  “Two of those and two of those,” Jan announced, setting her other packages on the floor so she could get her credit card out of her purse.

  She looked at her watch. Done in under an hour. She wondered how Roman was doing on his speeches. How much time had he spent thinking about their kiss? For her, the scene replayed itself, in all its sensuality, about every five minutes. Twice, her legs had gone rubbery at the thought and she’d had to hang on to something to stay standing. And here she’d imagined that necking with Roman Keller would be no big deal.

  “Can you carry those bags, ma’am? The candle holders are heavy.”

  Jan hefted the four shopping bags. “Oof,” she said, realizing she couldn’t haul the load three blocks to the abbey. “No worries. My car’s only a block from here.”

  She walked slowly to the parking area, thinking how nice it would have been for Roman to help her carry her purchases. He’d wanted to come along. To avoid working on his speeches, maybe. To play bodyguard. To play with her.

  God, it was hard to focus with Roman around, but she’d gotten him to work on Sidney’s memorial and he’d asked for her help on the Johnson documentary. These were victories.

  Jan sighed as she opened her car trunk, wishing she’d met Roman in a simpler time, with the luxury of getting to know the man, gradually. Instead she got one compressed, stressful week with the guy. Too many ulterior motives, both sides. Add Frank and her dad and the dog. So many complexities.

  Why couldn’t she whittle down her list of worries? She used to be so good at prioritizing and attacking each challenge. She’d never been presented with so many strings to tie off.

  After stuffing the packages in the trunk, she shut the cover hard.

  “Jan Solvang?” came a voice from behind her.

  Whirling to look, Jan stumbled against the trunk.

  Tess. Wild-eyed. Dressed in a wrinkled shirt hanging loose over shorts. Sandals. Nothing in the hands she held out. Palms up, perhaps to prove she had no weapon.

  Jan saw a bulge in her right hand shorts pocket. The knife? A gun?

  “Could we talk?” the woman begged.

  A glance around the parking lot. Jan was alone with a crazy woman. Who looked foolish now? “Mr. Keller is waiting for me,” Jan said, her voice too loud and her bracelet clanking. She looked at her watch, struggling for calm.

  “He’s at the Mission. I know.” Tess combed her fingers through her unkempt hair. “I can’t have Keller around when I talk to you.” She frowned. “I’ve seen some of his stories.” She looked scared. “Have you?”

  Jan nodded. “Yes. I’ve watched a few on TV.” She hesitated, imagining how Tess would assess Roman’s documentaries. “He’s thorough, all right.”

  Tess grabbed Jan’s arm. “He can’t know my secret, ’cause I know what he’ll do with it. You have to promise you won’t tell him.”

  Jan hesitated, Tess’s grip and the coolness of the shadowed parking area making Jan shiver. By agreeing to listen to Tess, alone, Jan would be giving up on Roman. But hadn’t she already decided he’d climb over people in order to get a story? Wasn’t that why she’d stalled him on the Johnson documentary?

  A wave of grief unsettled her so much she leaned on the trunk of her car. If she kept Tess’s secret from Roman, she could cause irreparable harm to their relationship.

  “You okay?” Tess asked.

  “I’m fine.” She hoisted her purse strap over her shoulder, easing out of Tess’s grip. “We won’t tell Roman,” Jan said. “Until you give me permission, we keep your secret between us.”

  Tess expelled a breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. “Good,” she said with a trace of a smile while she made a furtive survey of the parking area. “We’ll walk to the Mission together. With what I have to tell you, the memorial’s over.” Tess stared at her. “Not that anyone but you will know why, you understand. But it’s over.”

  ****

  “Now I’m a furniture mover,” Roman grumbled under his breath as he leaned against Donna’s Furniture truck parked in front of Jan’s home. “Lucky me, paired with Frank the grump and ordered around by a General and a grandmother too old to lift anything.”

  The truck driver must have sensed Roman’s displeasure, because he leaned out the cab window and yelled, “She wanted the stuff this afternoon, buddy. I told her I couldn’t bring a helper until tomorrow. Bella, whoever, said she had all the help I needed.”

  Roman waved a hand at the man to signal “discussion closed.” “They’re putting down the rugs. At their high sign, we bring in the furniture. Relax.”

  Why was he so pissed? He’d have hauled chairs to the moon for Jazz…

  Until she’d decided to shut him out.


  He’d seen her with Tess from his leaning post at the abbey door where he’d watched for Jan’s return, concerned about her safety. Roman was positive Jan hadn’t seen him watching, but he’d definitely seen her. She’d glanced toward the Mission and the way she quickly drew Tess out of sight convinced him she meant to hide their rendezvous from Roman. When he spied Jan walking toward him, alone, he’d rushed back to the gardens, opened the folder and pretended to be working. She’d returned, breezy and smiling, babbling about errands accomplished.

  Roman had decided to let her pick the time to tell him about meeting Tess.

  They’d walked to Tortilla Flats, the restaurant Bella had chosen for Sidney’s wake. Talked food, napkin color, music, beverages, number of servers. On and on. She was creative and thorough, in the way he’d expected her to be. But her secret meeting with Tess had spoiled the show. He’d geared up to be impressed with her skill. Now all he could think about was how easily she could keep things from him. Still, Roman gave her the benefit of the doubt, hoping she’d tell him about her meeting with Tess on their drive home.

  No. Instead she wanted a blow by blow of his speech-writing and a critique of the restaurant. Not one mention of her subterfuge, which she’d probably arranged that morning. Errands. Ha! All along, she’d planned to meet Tess while Roman sweated blood over Sidney’s speeches.

  He held on to a sliver of hope that she’d tell him about Tess when they arrived at Jan’s house. Not a peep. Jan was awhirl with interior decorating issues, calling on Frank, the General, and Bella to help her do this and that.

  Then Roman got appointed chief furniture mover.

  The General trotted toward him, towed by a leashed Elwood. “Shorty’s getting in the way. Janny thought he might be safer with you.”

  Not waiting for an answer, the General put the leash loop in Roman’s hand, turned in a soldierly about-face and marched back to the house.