The Funeral Planner (31 page)

Eve stares up at him, and for the first time, I see she’s speechless. She barely manages to smile back.

“I told you he’s no ghost, Eve, so you can stop acting like you just saw one.”

“Um, hi” is all she can say.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to work.” Victor leaves and walks over to his office.

Eve finds her tongue again and bursts out, “He’s so hot! Talk about a poster-MBA dude! Never mind the Abercrombie & Fitch khakis, sage-green cotton T and Kenneth Cole black loafers.”

I am just a little irked by how taken she is with Victor, and wonder, am I missing something here?

“How goes it?” Victor asks, standing in the doorway.

I smile and lift up
Live Wire Funeral Director Magazine
subtitled “The Funeral Planner” with a photo of me sitting on a casket holding a martini glass and a planner.

“Thanks to this business is good.”

“Does this mean you’re ready to implement phase two? Personal life missions?”

“Yes, I guess I, um, can actually start, uh, looking into that.”

Victor makes himself at home and sits down.

“So tell me, what would your mission statement for meeting the right partner look like? I assume you would have a mission statement, a rollout strategy and a risk and mitigation action plan, no?”

“Yes, of course, I would. I mean, what if he became a drug addict or a hardened criminal?”

“Yes, you wouldn’t want to get off course now would you? What exactly would your strategy be—Will you do Internet dating or leave it to chance encounters?”

“First, I have to identify the critical success factors—what needs to be in place to be successful.”

“What would those be?”

“I haven’t, uh, thought that through yet. I’m still wrapping up this life celebration of—”

“Well, have you considered your exit strategy? Will it be until death do you part? Or will you be going for a divorce settlement?”

“If I’d wanted marriage money I could have had that by now. I’m holding out for true love.”

“I see. Good to know. Have you actually identified what true love looks like?”

“It’s a work in progress. And in any case it’s a feeling, not a visual.”

A car honks outside. Victor looks. A cab is parked curbside.

“That’s my ride. If you need an adviser for phase two, let me know. I’d be glad to be of service.” He adds a wink as he heads out.

As Norm Pearl’s wedding date nears, I realize it’s a perfect trip to New York where I can attend the wedding, meet with clients and generate new business.

I stare at the invitation. It does say I can invite a guest. But I’ve been too busy to even think about it. Yet, in this moment, that feeling of isolation comes over me again. I’m tired of doing everything alone, going everywhere alone. True, I can get a lot more done on my own because I’ve never met anyone who can keep up with me, at least in business, though I have to admit that Victor Winston’s accomplishments compared to his methodical slow pace are quite impressive. I scan the phonebook on my PDA and find the phone number for the sculptor Davide. What the hell, I think, it’s worth a shot.

The wedding takes place at the top of Rockefeller Center and is about as extravagant an affair as his death dress rehearsal. The wedding ceremony is presided over by a female interfaith minister. She eloquently begins, “Welcome to the wedding of Norm Pearl and Elizabeth Thyme. This ceremony represents the power of love for one and for all…”

I sit alone in the pseudo-pews of the banquet hall watching both Norm and Elizabeth beam with pride and joy. I dab my eyes with a tissue as bride and groom place rings upon each other’s fingers and together break the ritual glassware.

It is an elegant reception with tall exotic flowers and colorful bougainvillea decorating the walls. The band breaks out with renditions of old seventies disco and R&B. They start out with an upbeat song by the Spinners.

I stand by the bar where apple martinis are served with straws inside giant golf ball-shape glasses that say “Norm & Elizabeth” on them.

The bartender asks, “Would you like one?”

“Oh, no, thanks. That would put me on the floor.”

“The floor could be a lot of fun,” he teases.

“You look smashing,” says a voice laced with a romantic French accent.

I turn around to see Davide standing next to me. I smile nervously. “Thanks for coming. I’m so glad you could make it. I know it was last minute and all.” I look him over in his debonair black suit. “You look…great.”

“Thank you. How do the sculpture in de cemetery business do?”

“Great,” I say. “It’s finally picking up. And your gravestone sculpture of my uncle had a powerful effect at the funeral trade show.” I realize I’ve forgotten how to date and small talk makes me more nervous. So I do what is naturally most comfortable for me, talk business. “So…I was thinking maybe we could start a whole line of themed gravestone sculptures…and…”

Davide glances at the band, which begins to play a slow song, then at me. “May I have this dance?”

“Okay, um, sure. If I can remember how to,” I mumble.

Out on the dance floor, everything Sierra taught me in Vegas is a distant memory. I repeatedly stumble over Davide’s feet as I try to let him lead.

He stops and offers a shallow grin. “I think I am thirsty. Do you wish a drink from the bar?”

“Sure. Uh, I’ll have one of those apple martinis.” At this point, I’m convinced on the floor would be more fun than trying to dance with a Frenchman.

Davide leaves and I stand there watching the celebrants.

Norm Pearl comes up from behind to give me a big hug. “Hey, you! You look awesome! How’s your golf game?” he chides.

“Neglected.” I smile. “Poorly neglected.”

“We’ll have to change that. Meanwhile, I am so glad you made it! You realize that without you, I wouldn’t be here, either?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily—”

“Come on, I’m taking you out on the dance floor,” says Norm, cutting me off.

I try to resist, but Norm guides me to the floor, where he doesn’t really dance, he just moves around in circles talking. “You’re the one who came up with the Golf Camp Academy idea. Without that I never would have met Elizabeth. Did I tell you we’re adopting a baby from China? I owe you big-time!”

I keep an eye out for Davide. “That’s great, Norm. But um, actually, you owe me the answer to our unanswered question.”

“I didn’t forget. How do you find the balance between the work button that never goes off and the family love button that never seems to turn on? I’m going to tell you.” He pauses. “It’s sort of like golf. You get into your groove, then you let go and open up your best shot. You just keep driving and you just keep putting along and…”

“That is hardly an answer, Norm. How do you let go and open up?”

“Aha!” says Norm. “You’re a wise woman, taking me all the way to the eighteenth hole on this one. The secret to that is that…there is no secret.” He pumps his head up and down. “Huh? How’s that?”

“I really hate conundrums,” I say, standing still on the dance floor.

“Okay, okay. Look, here’s the deal. It’s a timing game and it’s completely out of your control. It’s like the buttons have their own internal timer. And there’s nothing, I mean absolutely nothing you can do about it except live your life until they go off—so they can go on in a different kind of way.”

As Norm finishes, I see Victor Winston enter the room with an exquisite woman by his side. I gasp, because for one thing, it’s totally out of context.

“I know, I know,” says Norm, misinterpreting my gasp. “It sounds dramatic, but the point is, it’s really incredibly simple.”

I immediately start moving to keep our circle dance in motion, swiveling behind Norm to get my bearings on Victor. I wonder what he’s doing here and who the striking woman is who’s with him.

The woman sees Norm and approaches with Victor proudly on her arm. Norm stops the circle walk with me and excitedly shouts in my ear, “Alyssa Ryan is here! Come on, Maddy, you have to meet this woman. She’s absolutely remarkable. A lot like you!”

Before I can respond, Norm is pulling me off the dance floor.

As the two groups near, Victor recognizes me and cordially nods, as if this kind of chance meeting were an everyday occurrence. He may not be used to seeing me dressed up, let alone in glamorous attire and makeup, but from his calm, collected response, one would never know.

“Alyssa, you made it!” shouts Norm. He gives her a bear hug.

“Come on, Norm. I wouldn’t miss my favorite client’s wedding for the world,” says the meticulously coiffed Alyssa, careful not to mess up her perfectly applied lipstick by avoiding his cheek altogether.

“Maddy. You look wonderful,” says Victor. “What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“Alyssa is my client.”

“Norm is my client. Remember the golf game-death dress rehearsal?”

Victor puts it together now as Norm returns from his hug with Alyssa.

Norm jovially addresses our small crowd. “Alyssa, this is Maddy—Maddy, Alyssa. Two remarkable women! Alyssa is in charge of all the interior designs for me on my conversions of sixties office towers into apartment-lofts in Manhattan. And Maddy runs an outrageous business on customized pre-need funeral services.”

“That sounds incredibly morbid,” comments Alyssa, turning her nose up at me.

“Not the way Maddy does it. It’s kick-ass. Not kick-bucket!” laughs Norm.

I maintain my composure and extend a hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Alyssa offers a limp handshake back, careful not to put any strength behind it, as if she were conserving her energy for more important people or perhaps reluctant to touch the hand of someone so close to a business predicated on death.

“And who’s this handsome dude?” asks Norm.

“This is Victor Winston,” says Alyssa. “One remarkable man.” I pick up on Alyssa’s subtext of
my
remarkable man. “He’s the investor behind the Designer Tank.”

“Terrific,” says Norm. “You play golf, Victor?”

“I was on Yale University’s golf team,” replies Victor.

Norm pats Victor on the back. “Fantastic. We should definitely talk things over on the course sometime.” He looks from Maddy to Victor. “So how do you two know each other?”

We answer simultaneously, crisscrossing over each other, “He’s my venture capitalist.”

“She’s my investment client.”

“Speaking of which,” adds Victor,“how did the meetings go today?”

“Great,” I say, comfortable again in the saddle of business talk. “I lined up two more clients and—”

Alyssa turns to Victor and cuts me off. “Excuse me. But you invested in…death?”

“That’s right,” says Victor with humble pride. “I did. I believe it’s going to be my best investment yet.”

I grin as Alyssa raises her brows in mock disgust.

Norm punches Alyssa in the arm. “What’s the matter, Alyssa? You can’t mock death. You gotta make it your friend, like I did, then you get a whole other life to live. Speaking of which, I need to find my wife, compliments of Madison Banks.”

Norm leaves as Davide shows up with two apple martinis in golf-ball glassware and hands one to me, catching me off guard. “Oh, Davide, um, thanks for the drink. This is, uh, Victor Winston, my venture capitalist in Lights Out Enterprises. And this is Alyssa Ryan, an interior designer. Everyone, this is Davide.”

Alyssa seems to back off on her possessive-Victor energy upon Davide’s arrival at my side. Victor, as usual, maintains his poker face.

“And Davide is…?” asks Victor.

“Oh, um, Davide is an extraordinary sculptor,” I say, taking a big sip from my drink.

“Yes, and now I am also a gravestone sculptor,” says Davide. “Yes, of course,” says Victor. “The piece you did on her uncle Sam was outstanding.”

“Thank you,” replies Davide.

“Wait a minute,” says Alyssa, connecting some dots in her brain. “Are you Davide Davide? Famous Parisian sculptor?”

“I hope so,” says Davide.

“Here’s my card,” she says, handing him one conveniently ready to be plucked from her purse. “I would love to talk to you in the next few days. Not now, obviously, as this is a social gathering.”

“I don’t mind if you want to talk business,” offers Victor.

“Oh, but I do,” she replies. “Come. Let’s all dance.”

I’m impressed. At least Alyssa knows how to turn her on button off. On the dance floor, I watch Alyssa let Victor lead. They dance in elegant fashion together, while once again, I fail to let Davide guide me. It’s simply out of my realm.

Davide shakes his head. “You do not know how to let a man guide you, no?”

“I’m trying,” I say as I trip over him. Victor catches my fall.

Victor looks at Davide. “Do you mind? I need to talk to my business partner.”

“Not at all,” replies Davide, and we switch dancing partners.