The Funeral Planner (45 page)

“What do you think is his agenda?” asks Victor.

“To see to it that we appreciate life…the way he did.”

“And how would that work?”

Wally thinks about it. “He’d probably want us to have a Guy Special.”

“Okay, one round of Guy Specials for this gentleman and me,” Victor tells me. “On me,” he tells Wally.

“Thank you. Guy would appreciate that,” says Wally. I look up at the ceiling and shake my head, then get their drinks for them. I see Richard crack a smile to himself from behind the computer.

Victor spends the rest of the evening chatting with other customers and playing with Siddhartha. I do my best to ignore him. Rocky walks in and hands me my new subscription to the
Financial Street Journal.
I blatantly make a lot of noise as I snap it wide open to scan the headlines.

When Richard and I finally close up for the night, Victor asks me, “Can I drive you home?”

“No, thanks. Sid and I prefer to walk.”

“Can I—”

“Girls only.”

“All right,” says Victor. He leans down to pet Siddhartha. “See ya later, Sid.” He walks out.

The next night, I open up the bar wearing the black ribbon pinned to my shirt. Victor walks in right when the doors open and sits at the end of the bar. He carries with him a copy of the
Pamphlet on Grief Wellness & Creating Personalized Tributes.
He orders another cup of hot tea, which he never takes a sip of, then notices my shirt.

“What’s with the black ribbon?” he asks.

He sounds surprised. “I thought you were done mourning your uncle.”

“I am. I’m mourning an old lover now,” I say, and turn around to ignore him.

“Ouch.” He sits there for a moment, then quietly reads from his pamphlet until Lillian Jones enters. “Aren’t you the one who painted that remarkable portrait of Guy?” Victor must recognize her from Guy’s tribute.

“Yes, that’s me, thank you.”

“Could I hire you to paint my portrait?”

“Why, of course.” She beams. “Do you have a particular location in mind?”

“Yes, right there, by the fireplace.”

I pretend not to hear, realizing the fireplace is in my direct line of vision. I sigh to myself and roll my eyes.

Lillian grabs her paints and easels out of her car and spends the next three nights creating an exquisite portrait of Victor beside the fireplace with Siddhartha next to him remaining perfectly still.

Every time I call Siddhartha over to the bar, she refuses to come.

Richard smiles. “I think Sid is bent on having her portrait done, Maddy.”

“F-fine,” I stammer. “I need to check the e-mails anyway.” I read one from Sanford Aidelman telling me to expect the contract for the book deal in two weeks. I send an e-mail to Arthur, letting him know how much I appreciate his intentions, but that I’ve decided to wait on that envelope he gave me…for now.

After we close shop, Victor asks if he can walk Sid and me home. Again, I refuse.

The next night, while having his portrait completed, Victor asks Lillian, “So tell me, what’s the real estate like around here?”

I stare at Victor from across the bar, wondering what he’s up to.

“Oh, you can still get some good buys,” she says.

Just then, Victor’s mobile phone rings. It’s on the bar next to his pamphlet. I see it but ignore it.

“Hey, Victor,” Richard calls, “your phone’s ringing.”

“Could you answer it for me? Thanks, Richard,” Victor responds.

“Hello?” Richard covers the mouthpiece and calls out to Victor.

“George Toffler from the
Financial Street Journal.
” George Toffler calling Victor? What’s that about? I snuff my curiosity by continuing to nonchalantly wipe down the bar.

Victor turns to Lillian. “Do you mind if we take a break?”

“Not at all,” she replies.

Victor gets up and takes his cell phone outside with him. I peer after him. Fifteen minutes later he returns, still talking on the phone. He looks at me. “George Toffler would like to speak to you. He’s had a difficult time getting a hold of you.”

I hesitate. Taking the phone would acknowledge Victor’s presence.

He smiles at me. “Just for tonight, we can pretend I’ve been temporarily resurrected.”

I take the phone. “Hello?” Victor returns to his seat next to Siddhartha so Lillian can finish their portrait. I head outside for the conversation as Victor had done.

When I return twenty minutes later, I find Victor back at the bar next to Lillian. I hand him his cell phone, pretending nothing unusual happened.

“Since we’re pretending I’m in the flesh tonight, I’d like you to have something to remember me by,” says Victor. He hands me the finished portrait of himself and Siddhartha. Even I feel my breath taken away by the incredible likeness of both man and beast. “Be careful not to touch it until it dries.”

“It’s remarkable,” I comment.

“Thank you,” says Lillian. “Now where are your manners?”

“Um, thank you,” I say to Victor.

Victor, Lillian and Richard release simultaneous sighs. I look at them, wondering whose side they’re on.

“With regard to that phone call we both received,” says Victor,“there’s something I need to show you and you’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

I hesitate. Anything to do with the
Financial Street Journal
is my Achilles’ heel and he knows it, and I know he knows it. “How long will it take?” I ask.

“Two hours max,” he says.

I turn to Richard. Before I can speak, he commands,“Get out of here. Now, please.”

I climb inside Victor’s rented hybrid. He drives us to the bowling alley.

“We’re here,” he says, and parks the car.

“The bowling alley? This better be good, Victor.”

We enter the building and pass by Sally and Wally in the attached restaurant watching Roy Vernon sing “The Guy Ballad.” A few bowling regulars spot me and wave hello. Victor misses it as he greets Carl behind the counter and buys two games and shoe rentals for each of us.

“The burgers still good here?” asks Victor, winking at Carl.

“Second to Eagle’s Nest,” replies Carl.

“Okay, two burgers and two lemonades. Is that okay with you, Maddy?”

“Whatever,” I say, going along for the ride. “But I really don’t feel like bowling.”

“Is that because Madison Banks is actually afraid to lose?”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re on,” I reply.

Carl smiles as we get onto Lane 10.

We pick our bowling balls and start to play. I take aim and quickly claim a strike. Victor follows with one of his own.

“So what does bowling have to do with George Toffler?” I ask.

“Arthur Pintock started out as your front bowling-pin client, right? And I trust Toffler asked you all about Lights Out,” he says. I nod, fearing a conundrum is on its way. “Well, it all ends here, Maddy. Because that phone call was instigated by Arthur Pintock. He specifically asked Toffler to investigate Derek Rogers. His fact-checking interviews are just part of a much bigger story. Your turn.”

I grab my ball as I try to digest the information. I refocus and get another strike. I’m on fire.

“Nice,” says Victor. “You’ve really improved.”

“What kind of story?” I ask.

Victor rolls his ball for a spare. For the first time, I’m ahead of him. He takes it in stride and turns to me. “Tomorrow’s
Journal
is going to cause Derek Rogers to implode. Tribute in a Box will soon be Toppled in a Box. And it’s going to completely debunk the accreditation program under the new Funeral Rule. Lights Out won’t be stymied anymore by Derek’s shenanigans.”

I sit down, stunned. “Are you serious?”

Carl brings us our burgers and lemonade. “Here ya go.” He checks the ball machine, half-grins at Victor and splits.

Victor sits next to me. “Yes. But there’s more. A lot more.”

“What?”

He hands me an envelope. I open it up and there’s a check for $36,876 made out to Lights Out Enterprises. “What’s this?”

“Seems your protégée picked up quite a bit from you.”

“My protégée?”

“When I asked Eve Gardner to wrap things up for you, she did. She closed a three-way co-branded deal with a client you introduced her to. The deal included repurposing a life bio video into music videos and commercials, and Eve got to promote FT 101 Designs in all of them. She even made sure a percentage of the revenue generated went to Lights Out Enterprises for initiating the relationships.”

I scan my shoes. “Wow…she trumped me. I never thought of ancillary markets from the life bio videos.”

“Your thought processes rubbed off on her…as did your ethics.”

I am impressed by Eve. But Victor had said… “There’s more?” I ask.

“It’s in your next ball.”

I look at him funny, but pick up my ball. Something’s stuck in one of the holes. I pull it out. It’s a sparkling diamond ring. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s my way of asking you to marry me. Please, let me speak before midnight rolls around and you proclaim me history again.” He takes a breath, exposing a degree of nervousness I’ve never seen in him before. “I think playing the results is overrated. I believe we’re both missing out on what life is really supposed to be about. And I made a mistake, Maddy. I thought you weren’t done grieving over Sam. That’s why I left the way I did, which was pretty rotten of me and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize what I was doing, which was trying not to compete with the dead. I’ve done that with my sister for my parents’ attention for too long now. It was my issue, never yours…and I’ve resolved it.” He pauses, shoring up his resolve. “I confronted my parents. I told them I can’t stop living my life because they aren’t living theirs or even acknowledging mine. It’s not what Shauna would have wanted, either.” He takes another breath. “Look, I love you, Maddy. And I’d like to be your husband…if you’ll have me. But before you answer, I want you to know I’m real, I’m alive, and I’m not leaving.”

Before I know what hit me, Victor takes me in his arms and kisses me. It’s an amazing kiss and easily reignites my feelings for him. Finally, he pulls away.

“You think sticking a diamond ring in a bowling ball will make me swoon over you?” I ask.

“Well, that and the fact that I love you,” he says. “Please, at least put it on.”

I try the ring on. No go. “It doesn’t fit. That’s a bad sign.” I give him a shy smile. “You really love me?”

“Yes. I really do love you.”

“Yeah? Well, my love is going to cost you,” I goad.

“I’m prepared for whatever that is,” he says, catching my meaning.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Victor—”

“Wait a minute. You’re turning a marriage proposal into a business negotiation?”

“What’s the problem with that? We are talking contracts, aren’t we? And, well, I have some results that need to be played out before I can take you seriously.”

“You’re a much better entrepreneur than I gave you credit for. What’s the deal?”

I pull out the sealed envelope that Arthur gave me five days ago. “See this?”

Finale: Playing Maddy’s Results—The Pièce de Résistance

S
ix a.m. the next morning. In the predawn darkness, Sid and I jog to the corner newsstand. I purchase a
Financial Street Journal
and aim my flashlight pen at the front page. The center headline reads, “Mortuary Empire Topples-in-a-Box: Derek Rogers’s art of the scandal unravels into view,” by George Toffler.

Toffler’s lengthy exposé reveals the scandal behind Derek’s entire career, concluding with the plagiarism of the business plans developed “by Ms. Madison Banks for Artists International and Lights Out Enterprises, which Mr. Rogers turned into Palette Enterprises (PE) and Tribute in a Box (TIAB).”

In addition, Toffler includes “Mr. Rogers’s crime of stealing Ms. Banks’s and Mr. Wright’s $2.99 online
Pamphlet for Grief Wellness & Creating the Personalized Tribute
and turning it into
The Heartache Handbook for Tributes in a Box
for an advance of $500,000 from Agam Publishing in a first-run distribution deal of 75,000 books that had to be pulled in the eleventh hour when Vertihore Media’s legal chief, Mr. Sanford Aidelman, was confronted by Ms. Banks on the issue, at which time Ms. Banks easily proved ownership of her intellectual property.”