The need to make her happy had suddenly become his priority. Here he’d always assumed the truth freed him. After telling a lie to Jazz, he was euphoric.
****
Jan stood in the patio of the Mission garden, looked at her watch, made sure Bella and Roman’s parents were settled in the front row and checked that the rest of the mourners had taken their seats. Seeing no stragglers, she gave a cut sign to the guitarist to stop playing and nodded to Roman. As she watched him take the podium, precisely at eleven o’clock, she took a deep breath to steady herself and keep from tearing up.
You can’t cry, she told herself for the tenth time.
Smile, dammit. You’re starting on schedule, every chair’s taken, the urn display looks perfect and the temperature’s a comfortable sixty-five degrees in this lush garden.
Roman placed his notes on the podium and waited for silence, reminding Jan of her first sight of him in a suit when she met him at the Mission.
Dressed to kill, he’d greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. Charcoal gray pants and suit coat, a crisp white shirt, a light blue and black striped tie. Black shoes and socks. Smelling of some subtle earthy cologne.
He was so stunningly handsome, she’d teared up and couldn’t speak.
“You look pretty, Jazz.”
She’d nodded, then covered her discomfiture by pulling a bottle of water out of her tote bag and drinking deeply. Muscles she hadn’t used in a good long time ached from their romp in bed and she was sore in the most pleasant of places, but the weepiness confused the hell out of her.
Roman’s eyes were on her now, in the Mission garden, sparking a confounding mix of emotions that made her feel unsteady on her feet, while he stood at the front of the assemblage, poised and confident. No longer resisting his role as master of ceremonies, he seemed proud to represent his family and speak about his grandfather.
Jan knew she’d earned twice her salary getting Roman to this place.
He introduced himself and thanked Sidney’s friends and relatives for coming on behalf of Bella and his parents. When he explained why the Mission garden was chosen for the ceremony, he complimented Jan.
“Our friend, Jan Solvang, suggested this setting for Sidney’s memorial.”
Another tear-up.
Roman started with his grandfather’s history, using Jan’s technique of asking members in the audience to stand and represent chronological stages of Sidney’s life. Witnessing Roman’s deft use of her strategy made her eyes water yet again.
“My grandfather was openly loving and affectionate to his wife, Bella,” Roman said, smiling at his grandmother who shimmered in the front row in her red pantsuit. “But beyond that relationship, Sid seemed to be a loner, kind of a cranky one, at that.”
Roman focused on Jan, seeming to draw strength from her. “Turns out, Bella knew her man, but the rest of us didn’t. And that’s exactly how he wanted it.”
Jan swallowed a sob.
“For the first time, those of us who were deeply affected by Sid, have gathered in one place.” Roman paused and observed the crowd. “I’m as surprised as you are to discover each of us is a puzzle piece. Somehow we fit together to solve the mystery of this man’s life.”
One by one, Roman introduced five historians, who, singly, took the podium and spoke of their relationship with Sidney. Roman followed, describing his rocky past with his grandfather. Sid’s biting critiques were an integral part of each man and woman’s career arc, but Roman was the only writer among them who’d refused to recognize the value of his grandfather’s criticism. Until now.
“Some of you may be thinking I’m the clever one, having organized these eulogies to aptly represent Sid’s life, showing my grandfather as a hero with wide-ranging impact on well-known American writers. You’d be wrong. I was blind to Sid’s purposes, too self-absorbed and uncertain about my skill to make good use of my grandfather’s criticism.”
Roman delivered a wry smile to the crowd. “No. We have Bella, my grandmother, and Jan Solvang to thank for gathering the puzzle pieces and helping us fit them together today. If not for these two extraordinary women, a true picture of Sidney Keller might have remained a mystery. They recognized the quiet heroism in Sid’s life while I missed it completely.”
Jan’s throat hurt from the effort not to cry.
“It’s a first for me. What I saw as a glaring flaw in my grandfather’s life, turned out to be a glorious contribution to the craft of writing.” He smiled. “I’m in my thirties, a mite old to be learning that love comes in the form of critique. Sid may not be here to pound down the lesson, but look how many of us are left to continue his journey.
“Sid taught us we do our best work when we collaborate, when we’re tough on each other in our efforts to find truth. That’s Sidney Keller’s legacy and his lesson. Let’s live it.”
A tear ran down Jan’s cheek. She wiped it away, gulping air to steady herself.
Roman grinned. “Another love of Sid’s was spicy Mexican food. Join us, won’t you, in a stroll southward along the river to Tortilla Flats, where we’ll enjoy lunch together while we tell tales of our times with Sidney.” He held out his hand, palm up, to Bella. “As always, my grandmother will lead us.”
Jan signaled the guitarist to play a lilting Mariachi tune, blew out a breath and moved her shoulders to work out the tension. For a woman who rarely cried, she was unused to feeling weepy. What was wrong with her? Was she sick?
While the audience chatted in low tones, waiting for Bella to lead them out of the garden, Jan closed her eyes and took stock of how she felt. No fever, but shaky in the legs and hollow in the stomach. Better now when she wasn’t looking at Roman.
He’s making me sick?
She opened her eyes in time to see Bella bearing down on her, smiling so broadly Jan had to chuckle. Jan hugged her hard.
“We did good, honey,” Bella said. “Sidney’s send-off was fabulous.”
“No question, Bella. He got the last word and then some.”
Bella looked Jan full in the face. “Roman was magnificent with your help.”
Jan shrugged. “We both nudged him along, didn’t we?”
Bella tapped Jan’s nose and whispered, “He loves you. I think you’ve figured out you love him, too.”
Before Jan could respond, Roman’s parents took Bella by the elbows and escorted her out of the garden.
The General touched her shoulder. When she jumped, he asked, “You okay, Janny? I thought it went well.”
Struggling to control her emotions, Jan said, “I’m fine, Dad. Great ceremony. If you’ll put the flowers, urn, and table in your car, I’ll sprint to the restaurant to make sure everything’s ready.”
He seemed relieved to see her in bustling mode. “Will do. Meet you at the restaurant,” he said, then turned to his duties.
Jan couldn’t look at Roman, even if she was aware of exactly where he stood in the garden, conversing with Sidney’s bevy of writers. Later, she’d compliment him on his speech and his gracious gesture of thanking her, twice. For now, she was an event planner who needed to beat the crowd to the Tortilla Flats. Only when the last guest left the restaurant, would she think about the confusing emotions pelting her while she’d listened to Roman speak. That’s when she’d also consider Bella’s comments about Roman being in love with her and her with him.
Maybe Palm Springs was the place to ruminate over such notions. Not here. Not at the restaurant. Not when she had jobs to do.
She didn’t make eye contact with him before she left, because if she did, she might go weepy again. Silly woman. Bella couldn’t be right. This wasn’t love. Jan was a teacher proud of her pupil, a planner overwhelmed by the success of her choreography.
As she turned to the exit, carefully averting her eyes from Roman, she desperately searched her brain for a touchstone, something to comfort her, to keep her from crying.
Her suitcase. Standing in the closet. Packed. Just grab her extra cosmetics and go.
Calming. Quieting. The hollow feeling in her stomach disappeared. She took a deep breath, relieved that the idea of moving on saved her every time.
****
Sidney’s memorial luncheon at Tortilla Flats was no quiet affair. Margaritas, gin and tonics, wine, and sangrias complimented a buffet of Mexican delicacies, a stand-up party for the lively, loud friends and relatives of Bella and Sidney Keller. Sid was missing, but his spirit soared through the gathering on the wings of Mariachi music.
Roman decided that a similar energy bound him to Jan. She’d hugged him and complimented him on his speech as soon as he entered the restaurant, but hurried off to organize the luncheon before he could respond beyond a “Thank you.” He’d felt something was off, but when he’d asked her if she was all right, she’d smiled and asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
It wasn’t the most resounding vote of confidence after a night of passion crowned by a successful memorial, but they’d have time to talk specifics later, at her house, in bed, he hoped. For now, he tracked her movements in the room at the same time he engaged people in conversation. If she needed him, he would know in an instant.
Fortified by margaritas and buoyed by the knowledge he and Jan shared something special, Roman worked the room, visiting with every mourner and thanking each for coming to Sidney’s memorial, while his peripheral vision and a weird spider web connection with Jan kept her close to him.
“The man was unmerciful,” Roman said to a writer Sidney had critiqued for twenty years. “In a good way.”
Jan bustled from the buffet table to the kitchen, from the bar to the storage room, directing servers and the bartender, adjusting a dish on the buffet table, arranging something with her father. The woman never stopped moving, her short blonde hair a halo of light, arms, shoulders and neck creamy in contrast to her black sleeveless dress. The urge to take her by the waist and kiss her shoulders was so strong, he had to order his feet to stay put.
“Sid was one of those rare individuals who didn’t require feedback to spur him on to meet his goals,” Roman said to a group of cousins. “If only the rest of us could be so confident.”
Moving away from his relatives, he remembered how he used to assess Jan’s hurried pace as a weakness. A turn-off. Not his type. How wrong could he have been? He yearned for a lifetime of gathering her into his arms, gentling her, quieting her. Making her his. How ironic to be beguiled, even challenged by a flaw; this from a man who pilloried people because of their imperfections.
He looked to the ceiling and smiled. “Sid, there’s still hope for me!”
The ceiling seemed unimpressed. How could Jan ever be his? She didn’t trust him. And what if Frank somehow re-entangled himself in Jan’s life without telling her he’d stolen her thumb drive and colluded with the mayor?
Jan grabbed his arm, startling him. So much for knowing where she was in the room. As soon as I go into muckraking mode, I can’t tune into her anymore.
“Sorry to bother you, Roman,” Jan said, raising an eyebrow when he jumped at her touch. “Your last guests are saying goodbye to Bella. I’m aware she’s invited you and others to her house. Dad and I have some errands to run, so I thought I’d say goodnight.” She fiddled with her diamond necklace and in the gesture, he understood she was as nervous and confused about their next steps as he was.
He grasped her shoulder, relieved to finally be able to touch her. “Jazz. You’re invited, both you and your dad.” He wanted to kiss her, reassure her that making love to her was important to him. Precious. But what if it hadn’t been important to her? And why wouldn’t she tell him where she was going with her father?
“Thanks,” she said, moving out of his reach. “Bella actually ordered us to come. To placate her, I said we would drop in if we had time to, but Dad and I probably won’t make it.”
Suddenly Roman was feeling on very shaky ground with her. Had the margaritas and the success of the memorial given him a false sense of confidence? Maybe he was a fool to imagine his closeness to her was more than physical.
“You’re meeting with Madeline Barker, I’ll bet,” Roman said, clipping out the words.
Jan straightened. “Roman,” she warned. “Tess won’t let you be a part of our negotiations with Madeline. I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”
“Tess doesn’t know me. Surely you could have persuaded her I’m trustable.”
Looking irritated Jan said, “She knows your profession and she’s examined your work. You scare her to death.”
“And you couldn’t convince her otherwise?”
She walked to the next set of tables, loading empty vases on a tray.
“You agreed with her, didn’t you?” he asked.
Jan wrapped a bunch of flowers in paper. “Believe what you like. Dad and I visit Madeline Barker. You don’t. Please bring these flowers to Bella,” she said, placing them in his arms. She took a step toward the door, then stopped. “After we talk to Mrs. Barker and cancel the memorial, the danger’s over, Roman. Your bodyguard duty is done.”
He shifted the flowers to one arm, gesturing with the other. “You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m giving you your freedom and the chance to sleep in your own bed for a change.”
Not hers.
“What the hell? I thought we had something going here besides a night of great sex. Working together on Sidney’s speech and nailing it. The success of the whole memorial, an almost furnished home and… Hell, I’ve even charmed your dog. These are accomplishments, Jazz.”
Tensing, her hands fisted, she said, “It’s my job, Roman.”
“And last night? Last night was part of your job?”
“No!” She looked around and gave a quick smile and a hand wave to a group of people staring at them. In a quiet voice, she said “Of course not. Last night was…was uh…unplanned.”
“So, except for our little bedroom hitch in your so-called plans I’m just a job to you, a project, now finished?”
She smiled sadly. “It was a beautiful memorial, Roman.”
“And since you’ve got me neatly filed in the “Done” drawer, you’re moving on to the next guy—I mean, event.”
“Actually, no. Elwood and I are driving to Palm Springs tomorrow and I don’t know how long we’ll stay there. Bella’s going to work with Dad on the funeral planning business to see if she likes it.”
Roman set the flowers on the table, furious. “When did this all get decided?”
“Last night, while you were working on Sidney’s eulogy.”
“I don’t get any say?”
“On what?”
Bella, the traitor. She could have at least consulted with him first. Didn’t Bella realize that when she took over Jan’s job, there was no reason for Jan to stay in town?
“I hate being left out of important decisions,” he groused.
“Since when does my life come under the heading of your important decisions?”
“Jazz—”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You could have been there for the discussion if you weren’t so busy revising Sidney’s eulogy…because you were too stubborn to read his emails the first time around.”
“Shit,” he said. “This isn’t how I saw things ending. Not after…not after…I mean, you’re brilliant at event planning,” he said, pointing to the buffet table, the decorations, and the now-empty room. “Why would you stop?”
A look of uncertainty flashed across her face. She isn’t sure. Leaving is a habit she can’t let go of.
As if you don’t have some nasty habits, Roman Keller.
It killed him not to point out her flaw as much as it hurt not to tell her about Frank. God, he hated taking the high road.
Biting his lip to keep from saying the wrong thing, he took a breath and grabbed the flowers. “The mayor’s goons may still be a danger tonight, Jazz. I’m not leaving you alone until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. When you and I are sure the memorial won’t happen, I’ll pack
up and leave your house. Not before.”
Jan dipped her head, seeming to stare at the empty vases. Could she be relieved he was staying? Perturbed she couldn’t get rid of him? Excited about her trip to Palm Springs? And where, exactly, did Frank fit into her future?
Roman rubbed his forehead, thinking how stupid he was to think he had a direct line to Jan’s emotions. At this moment, he had no idea how she felt or what she wanted. So much for thinking they had something special together.
Touch her. Re-connect.
When he cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him, he imagined he saw tears in her eyes. No way. Jan Solvang wasn’t a crier. He blamed the low light in the room for his mistake. She was exhausted, that was it. Tomorrow would be a better time to talk over what was going on between them.
Merely touching her skin centered him. He cleared his throat. “I’d better get to Bella’s. Keep your dad with you until I take over tonight. Call me when he leaves. Promise?”
She bobbed her chin up and down in his hand.
“Good. Stellar job today, Ms. Event Planner. For Sidney, me, everyone. Thanks, Jazz.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a weak smile.
He kissed her.
“I mean that.” He gave her chin a final caress, let go, and headed for the door.
Yes, he’d reconnected with her. He was sure of it. What stunned him was how important it had become for him to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What’s with Roman, Janny?” the General asked.
Jan kept her eyes on the road, wondering if it was such a good idea they’d decided to drive together to Madeline’s. She glanced in the rear view mirror at Elwood. The dog peered out the window of the Volvo station wagon, minding his own business. If only the General would as well.
“Janny?”
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