by Jeane Watier
Cassandra felt uneasy in the surroundings, though she wasn’t sure whether it was her own judgment of the place or whether she was anticipating what her mother might say. She decided to pass the time by going over her speech, hoping it would make waiting less uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I read this?” she asked, holding up the paper in her hand. “I’m a bit nervous. It might help if I go over it.”
“Not at all,” her father replied. “Go ahead.”
She read it through, forcing herself to take her time and make eye contact with her audience as she’d been trained to do in speech class.
“Your aunt would be proud, kitten,” Richard beamed.
“Sophia believed all that?” Helen asked skeptically.
“I’ve had to sum it up here,” Cassandra replied. “But yes, she had an amazing outlook. She was happy; she lived life on purpose; she understood what true success really is. The example she set is one we can all aspire to.”
Helen stared at her daughter for a moment and then looked away, disapproval creasing her brow.
It was obvious her mother didn’t agree, but Cassandra didn’t care. She was past needing her mother’s approval. She had a new outlook on life and was proud to embrace it. A smile from her father and a wink from Trevor conveyed silent encouragement, which she gladly received.
A man in a dated black suit came in the room and announced it was time for the service to begin. They followed him to a row of folding chairs at the front of the large auditorium. Looking around as she walked in, Cassandra was surprised to see the room completely full. The seats were all occupied, and several dozen people stood at the back. She’d expected a small gathering of friends and neighbors and didn’t know what to make of the large crowd. Could it really be what Mother said? she wondered. Have people come just to see a society funeral?
The pianist began to play. Rather than the depressing music usually associated with funerals, it was a lovely, soothing melody that, Cassandra realized, suited her personable aunt. She’d had a sweet, calm way about her—one that could make anyone comfortable in her presence. And though her aunt’s presence no longer graced their lives, Cassandra felt very much at ease as she sat in the auditorium. Flowers adorned the front of the room. A colorful mix of potted plants and artistic bouquets lined a platform draped with velvet. A large stand was adorned with roses. In the center hung a gold-framed picture of Sophia.
She sat smiling at the familiar face, her eyes lovingly fixed on the dear woman, when suddenly she remembered her dream. I was looking at a picture of Sophia. Could this be what I saw? She felt a tingle in the back of her neck as she recalled the rest. Jace was in my dream, too. Does that mean he’s here? She didn’t dare turn around, yet something told her he was. It makes sense that he’d attend the funeral. He was her neighbor, her employee… Cassandra wanted to believe he’d been a friend as well. If he’s here, she concluded, that proves he’s innocent. He’d never show his face otherwise. Hope returned, but it was combined with an unsettled eagerness as she waited to deliver her speech. Then she could look out into the faces present and see whether Jace was one of them.
The funeral director led the service, introducing several people who got up to speak about Sophia, particularly her contribution to the community. Cassandra drank in their words. They were there because Sophia Langdon had had an impact on their lives. They were there to honor a great woman, and the tone of the service reflected that. It was in pleasant contrast to the other funerals Cassandra had attended in her lifetime. It was celebratory rather than somber. It was uplifting rather than depressing. It made one thankful for a life rather than sorry for a death. It was, in Cassandra’s opinion, the perfect funeral, perfectly befitting a woman who’d truly had it all—a long life full of love, wealth, health, happiness, and joy.
JACE ARRIVED at the community center shortly after the funeral had begun. Being in a particularly good mood, it struck him as funny that he was attending the funeral of a friend with that very friend. As he slipped silently into the back of the auditorium, he was shocked to see the crowd in attendance. I didn’t know you knew so many people.
“I lived a long time. I’ve met a few people.”
Jace looked around the room. It seemed that all ages, nationalities, and social classes were represented. As he listened to the people who got up to speak, he was surprised to learn what Sophie had been involved in during her lifetime. She’d been active in many causes, raised money for charity, fought for change in the socioeconomic structure, and petitioned governments for amendments to various laws.
“That was my action journey,” she informed Jace. “Once I learned about the power of deliberate thought, that’s when I really began to accomplish things.”
Jace almost laughed out loud; her statement sounded preposterous. Seriously? You accomplished more than all that?
“They make it sound like a lot. It was years of hard work with relatively small results. Most of what I consider significant probably won’t be mentioned here. But that’s all right. I didn’t do it for the glory.”
Jace was tempted to ask what she meant by that, but his attention was drawn to the front of the room and the succession of people getting up to honor his friend. He was fascinated to learn more about the woman who had become such an important part of his life.
The next speaker introduced herself as head of the local community association and coordinator of the outreach program. She spoke of the great loss the city of Port Hayden and especially the community of Harborside had experienced with the passing of Sophia Langdon. Her voice was tinged with emotion as she conveyed her pleasure in having known such a benevolent soul. She talked of Sophia’s tireless support of the Community Center, her generous contributions both in time and money, and then expressed her pride in being able to rename the facility. It would soon be unveiled as the Sophia Langdon Memorial Outreach Center.
Way to go, Sophie, Jace cheered silently, assuming it was one of the accomplishments she was referring to.
The memorial service continued as more people offered words of praise. After a selection of music, during which several candles were lit in memory of Sophia, the facilitator announced that the eulogy would be delivered. Jace’s pulse quickened as Cassandra walked to the podium. After telling Sophie what he liked about Cassandra, after admitting to himself that she was what he truly wanted, his heart filled with love at the sight of her. She was lovely indeed.
TAKING A DEEP breath as she stood before the microphone, Cassandra did a quick scan of the room without finding the object of her search. As much as she wanted to know whether Jace was there, her first objective was delivering her tribute to her dear aunt. So instead of looking out, she looked to her family and found support in their smiling faces. She cleared her throat and began.
“I have had the privilege of knowing Sophia Langdon all my life. But only in recent weeks did I get to know the incredible human being my aunt really was. Many of you were acquainted with Sophia personally, and everyone here today has heard the wonderful things she’s done for her city and her community. What I want to share with you now is a picture of the woman who changed my life. And though I wish I could have had more time with her, I’ll always be grateful for what she taught me and the example she set.
“I want to talk, not about her accomplishments, not about the charities or the lobbying or the donations, but about the people she touched, the difference she made in the lives of individuals. The following letter from one such person sums up the sentiment that so many expressed.
“Dear Sophie, I wish I had more than mere words to thank you for the difference you’ve made in my life. You caused the sun to shine again. You helped me to find the joy that I thought was gone forever. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has ever been able to, because instead of trying to rescue me from the shipwreck I called my life, you simply believed in me. And even more, you showed me how to believe in myself. You taught me that I have the power to create the life I desire. You taught me
that happiness is the greatest treasure anyone can possess. For that, I will be forever grateful. I know now that I’m the only one who can create in my experience. Therefore, I no longer see myself as a victim. My life has been transformed in ways that others around me call miraculous, but the biggest change is on the inside. I’m a new person, and I owe it all to you. Thank you, Sophie. You truly are an angel.”
Cassandra looked into the faces staring back at her. The letter had obviously touched people. Some were dabbing their eyes; others were sniffling or clearing their throats. Still others responded with looks of cynicism or feigned disinterest.
“This is the Sophia Langdon I had the honor of getting to know,” she continued, trusting her words would reach those who were ready to hear. “This is the woman I want to commemorate here today. She taught me many wonderful truths—invaluable truths that will shape my life going forward. I got to hear her words, but I also got to observe her living what she believed. Her life demonstrated the value of happiness, the joy of simplicity, and the incredible freedom that comes from carving out your own path rather than mindlessly following others.
“She taught me the true meaning of success. My life will never be the same for having known this extraordinary woman.” Tears threatened to engulf her, but she was determined to finish. “Thank you, Aunt Sophia, for all you’ve given me…and for bringing sunshine and hope to so many lives. Your memory…will live on forever in our hearts.” Cassandra was overcome with emotion. Rather than search for Jace through tear-filled eyes, she simply returned to sit with her family.
Trevor put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “That was perfect, doodlebug.”
“Thanks,” she sniffed.
The pianist began the final song, and the funeral director stood to signal the procession. The family was directed down the center aisle and out through the main doors of the auditorium. Cassandra glanced around as she walked, but still there was no sign of Jace.
They formed a receiving line, and people began to pay their respects. The social elite were followed by government and organization officials, charity representatives, and business acquaintances. The locals gathered into small groups and visited among themselves, a few glancing toward the family yet hesitant to approach.
When the well-wishers had finally passed, Cassandra’s mother touched her arm. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
“I’d like to stay for a bit,” she replied. “I want to talk to some of the people that knew Aunt Sophia.”
Helen frowned. “All right, dear. Just don’t be too long.”
While Richard accompanied his wife to the limousine, Trevor stayed with Cassandra. She told him about the dream and her feeling that Jace was there. As she spoke, she searched the crowd again and noticed a woman staring at her. When Cassandra smiled, the young woman approached her.
“Excuse me, Miss Van Broden,” she smiled shyly. “I wanted to thank you for reading that letter.”
“You’re welcome,” Cassandra replied. “Did you know my aunt very well?”
“I did.” She looked Cassandra in the eye briefly. “I was the one who wrote it.”
“Oh my God,” Cassandra exclaimed, “I’m so happy to meet you! Your letter was lovely. Dozens of people wrote her, conveying their thanks, but yours expressed it so beautifully. Do you think…” Ideas were bubbling, and she was inspired to act on them. “I wonder if I could meet with you sometime? I mean…I’m planning to write a book on Aunt Sophia’s life, her beliefs. I’d like to talk to people who knew her…in more recent years, that is.”
“I’d love to.” The woman visibly relaxed and gave Cassandra a genuine smile. “There are others. We used to meet here regularly. If you’d like…I could see if they’d be willing to talk to you, too.”
“I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.” Cassandra took down a phone number and then shook her hand.
As the woman walked away, Trevor leaned toward his sister and whispered, “Nice how the Universe takes care of the details, isn’t it? By the way, I just saw Jace. He’s over there.”
Cassandra turned in the direction that Trevor motioned and saw Jace talking to a couple. He looked up and for a moment held her gaze. She smiled, but didn’t move. When he started walking toward her, she exhaled in relief.
“Hi, Jace.”
“Hi.”
His smile caused her heart to skip a beat. He looked exceptionally good dressed in a suit. His hair had been recently trimmed, and his eyes were even bluer than she’d remembered. She had to remind herself of what she needed to ask him about.
“Your speech…,” he hesitated. “It was really good.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to forget about the stupid jewelry, the car, the will, and tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t. She needed to learn the truth, needed to hear it from him. “Jace,” she began. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “What is it?”
“Last Sunday, when we were at the bar…after Aunt Sophia passed away. You mentioned something about jewelry she’d been wearing. Are you sure? I mean, you actually saw it on her?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“Well…we went through her apartment and found nothing, just an empty jewelry box.”
“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“She wasn’t wearing any in the ambulance. Trevor says he doesn’t remember seeing any, either.” She looked at her brother for support, but he said nothing.
“So what are you saying?” Jace asked.
“I…we don’t know what to make of it, that’s all.” Cassandra didn’t know what more to say without asking Jace directly if he knew of its whereabouts. And she wasn’t going to do that. His reaction had been genuine; she was convinced he was innocent. “We…Trevor and I…haven’t told anyone. I wanted to ask you about it first. I thought maybe you might…”
“Cassandra,” he interrupted, frowning. “Just what are you asking?”
She looked at him helplessly. There was so much she wanted to say, but before she could put thoughts into words he asked the question she didn’t want to hear.
“Do you think I took Sophie’s jewelry?”
“No, I don’t. But I’m concerned that others might. I mean…you had a key and you live right there.”
Jace’s reaction was one of pure disbelief. She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten as he turned away. When he looked at her again, he repeated the question slowly.
“Cassandra, do you think I took your aunt’s jewelry?”
She’d told him no, but he obviously didn’t believe her. What he saw, what he’d accurately discerned, was that she had suspected him, and he was right. She felt terrible. “Jace,” she sighed. “I did…I mean, the thought crossed my mind. I couldn’t see any other reasonable explanation. But I should have known. You’d never do something like that. I’m really sorry.”
He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing, yet the hurt in his eyes twisted the dagger in her heart.
“Goodbye, Cassandra.”
“Jace, wait!” As he walked away, she looked pleadingly at Trevor, but he shook his head sadly. Cassandra’s heart sank. She’d done it again. She’d passed judgment on Jace because of his social stature. Only this time, she’d driven a wedge so deep she didn’t know how it could ever be removed.
CHAPTER 19
JACE HEARD Cassandra call out, but he didn’t dare turn back. He needed to get as much distance between them as he could. When he was sure she hadn’t tried to follow, his mind began to process what had taken place. How could she think I’d steal from Sophie?
The truth hit him. It was happening again. Just when he’d let down his guard, she had shown a side of herself that he couldn’t accept. It’s no different than when she accused me of casing out her car. She still judges me because of where I live and how much money I make. She’s nothing but a rich snob. God! I was crazy to think we could ever be together.
He walked for several blocks, not caring whe
re he was going as long as it was away from Cassandra Van Broden. When he realized he was heading toward his apartment, he paused. His apartment made him think of Sophie, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to her. Not yet. He decided to go to Chad’s.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Chad was just getting up when he arrived. The television was on, so Jace sat down in front of it. As he began to focus, he quickly realized he wasn’t in the mood to talk to Chad either, but it was too late to do anything about it.
“Great party last night, wasn’t it?” Chad stood with the fridge door open, looking intently, as if some delicacy might suddenly present itself.
“Yeah,” Jace agreed, not wanting to highlight the fact that he’d left early.
“I thought you said you didn’t mind if I hooked up with Elise.”
“I don’t,” Jace retorted. “I told you that yesterday.”
“Bullshit.” Chad looked annoyed. “Morry said he saw you talking to her, said you left together.”
“What?” Jace couldn’t believe it. He was being accused, for the second time in less than an hour, of something he hadn’t done. He shook his head emphatically. “I talked to her. But we didn’t leave together.”
“Yeah, but Morry said…”
“I don’t give a shit what Morry said!” The anger erupted from somewhere deep inside. Jace glared at his friend. “I left alone, and if you don’t believe me then…fuck you!” He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave, having reached his breaking point. It was Cassandra he was angry with, but Chad was in his face, and he needed to let off steam.
Chad wasn’t a fighter. It was a good thing because he was a big guy, and Jace always suspected that if someone got him mad enough he could do damage. Knowing he’d overreacted, Jace stopped before he reached the door. “Sorry.” He returned to the kitchen where Chad stood with a shocked look on his face. “Look, I need you to believe me. I talked to Elise…just to make sure she had no hard feelings. I left after that…because I was feeling kind of…you know.” He shrugged, hoping his feeble excuse wouldn’t require further explanation.
