by Kris Tualla
“Do we want to switch out Dick Turpin’s tricorn for this bottle of Doctor A. B. Seelye’s Wasa-Tusa healing elixir from eighteen-ninety-nine?”
“Sure.” Hollis was flipping through the photos they had printed from a container of film from Danesfield House. The photos were taken when the house was used by the Royal Air Force as an image intelligence unit. “Let’s think of how to display these at some point.”
“Okay.” Stevie set the brown glass bottle on the stainless steel counter. “How long did they stay last night, the Unlimited people?”
“About an hour. They just wanted to see the Blessing.”
Hollis never told anyone about what happened when the Exor-Clergy priest doused the icon with holy water, and if Sveyn hadn’t heard the screams Hollis might believe she had imagined it. All she could say about the ancient icon now was that the separated halves no longer vibrated when she held them.
Her lips curved in a crooked smile.
They died.
“Were they hoping the story was true?” Stevie asked.
“Probably.” Hollis was relieved to know that even if the promise of immortality for the reconnected icon’s owner was true at one time, it wasn’t true any longer. “I was just glad that they left early.”
“How can anyone believe that if you change your way of thinking, you will never die?” Stevie shook her head. “I mean, death has a one-hundred-percent track record. Their founder died!”
“The reporter who wrote an article about them called them a cult, because they isolate their members from everyone else and charge them a ton of money for the privilege.”
Stevie lifted the bottle of healing elixir and smiled like a product pitch person. “I guess there really is a sucker born every minute.”
Hollis’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see who was calling her. She swiped the green answer icon.
“Hi, Sveyn! How’d it go?”
“Good. I am home now.”
Though Hollis and Sveyn had watched screen tests online, there was no way to know if his experience today would be like what they saw. “What was it like?”
“Very much like the films we watched,” he said. “A woman washed my hair and dried it, and then put makeup on me, before I talked in front of the camera.”
Hollis grinned. “Makeup? Really?”
“I looked good.”
Now she laughed. “I bet you did.”
He chuckled as well. “You will see. She will send me a link after they edit the film and send it to Match Point.”
“Oh, good!” Hollis said. “I really want to see it.”
“They will send it today.”
Hollis shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I don’t think it’ll be that fast.”
“Yes, it will. They are sending it to Match Point today.”
“Did they say that?”
“Yes. Rochelle said that Match Point wants to launch the campaign on Valentine’s weekend.”
“What? That’s crazy fast.”
“This world is fast.” He blew an audible sigh. “I hope I am able to keep up.”
*****
Hollis sat on the couch next to Sveyn, watching the screen test for the fourth time.
“I can’t believe that they did this so quickly,” she said. “But I guess that if the guy knew what he was doing, the digital editing’s not that big of a deal.”
Sveyn stared at himself on the monitor. “I never thought to do anything like this.”
“Most people don’t.” Hollis bumped her shoulder against his. “But dang you look good.”
He had to admit she was right. “Whatever they did, I wish they could do every day,” he said. “I never see this man in the mirror.”
“It’s the lighting,” Hollis stated. “See how there aren’t any shadows?”
“Why is there no color?”
Hollis’s brow twitched. “Something about a person’s features being more noticeable in black and white.”
Sveyn smiled self-consciously. “Can we watch it again?”
“Sure.” Hollis hit the replay icon. “By the way, where’d you get those jokes?”
“One day I asked Google for Viking jokes. I wanted to see what people in this century thought was amusing.”
“Well you nailed it.”
Sveyn’s phone rang and vibrated on the coffee table. He reached for it and looked at the screen.
“It is Robert Ford.”
Hollis’s eye rounded. “Answer it!”
He did. “Hello?”
“Sveyn? Rochelle. Good news.”
Sveyn looked at Hollis. “What good news?”
“The Match Point people absolutely love you. We film Thursday morning.”
Chapter Twenty
Thursday
February 4
Hollis wanted to take time off and watch Sveyn film the commercial but he said no. “I will be uncomfortable enough, because I will have absolutely no idea what to expect or what to do.”
Hollis was clearly disappointed, but how could she argue with such a statement?
“At least let me drive you,” she bargained. “And pick you up afterwards.”
“This I will agree to. And perhaps you can come inside and look at how things are set up.” He was surprised at how soothing that idea was to his nervous excitement.
“Great!” Hollis beamed up at him. “After our experience with Ghost Myths, Inc. filming us at the museum, I’m interested in seeing how studio work is different.”
Sveyn doubted that was the reason, but he went along with it rather than start a silly argument. Instead, he said simply, “I love you, Hollis.”
“And I love you.” She backed up her words with a kiss—and while that kiss went straight to his groin, his discomfort was lessening each day. In his mind, he classified it the same way they did in the hospital. The first erection that jerked him from his dream was a ten. Perhaps even an eleven. This one was a six.
I am making progress.
Hollis parked the car outside the agency and followed him inside. They were directed down the same hallway where the screen test was done, but to a much larger room.
James was there, barking orders, while Rochelle conferred with Chad who was apparently filming him again.
When she spied Sveyn, Rochelle hurried over. “Great! You’re early. Let’s get you to Jane so she can gorgeous you up.” She turned a stilted smile on Hollis. “Hello.”
“This is Hollis McKenna, my fiancée,” Sveyn said.
Rochelle’s gaze hardened. “Did you meet on Match Point?”
Sveyn stifled a laugh. “No.”
“Then don’t mention her. Ever. To anyone.” Rochelle whirled on one sharp heel and strode toward the door.
“You said you liked her,” Hollis whispered as they followed Rochelle’s perfumed path.
“She was always nice to me,” was his weak explanation.
When they reached Jane’s compact hair and makeup room, Hollis grabbed his hand. “I need to get to work.”
Sveyn leaned down and gave her a firm kiss, glad that she knew to leave. “I will call you when I am done.”
Hollis squeezed his hand. He watched her backside sway as she walked away.
“She’s beautiful,” Jane said.
Sveyn startled. He didn’t know the woman was beside him.
“Yes,” he said. “At least I believe she is.”
Jane’s gaze shot up to his. “Is it serious?”
“We are getting married.”
“Oh. Too bad.” With a sigh, Jane went back into her room.
Sveyn followed. Half an hour later, he remerged with the same strict instructions to not touch his hair or face.
“I’ll be there the whole time and I’ll touch up anything that needs fixing,” Jane explained. “You just focus on the camera.”
When they reached the studio, Rochelle had Sveyn try on several shirts before selecting a blue chambray button-down.
“The color is g
reat with your eyes, and the formality of the shirt offsets your hippy hair.”
What is hippy hair?
“You are the boss,” he replied safely.
Rochelle’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not quite right, though…”
“Roll up his sleeves,” Jane suggested. “Then he’ll look like he’s a hard worker.”
Rochelle brightened. “Great idea, Jane.”
Sveyn straightened his arms in front of him as ordered, while each woman meticulously rolled his cuffs twice, assuring one was not longer than the other.
“Perfect. I love it.” Rochelle took Sveyn’s arm and led him to the rounded wicker chair waiting in front of a bright green wall. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
Sveyn had to ask about the unusual color. “Why is the wall green?”
“We’re going to experiment with different background settings and let the Match Point marketing guys choose the one they like.”
That explanation made absolutely no sense. He would have to ask Hollis about it later. He walked to the chair and sat, ready to see what came next.
*****
Jane was indeed beside him the entire three hours. Each time Chad said ‘cut’ she stepped to his side and adjusted either his hair or his shirt, or dabbed his nose with a soft pad.
“Don’t want you shiny,” she chirped.
Thankfully, the words that James wanted him to say were clearly written on a white board and placed at the spot where Chad told him to look.
“We want it to look like you’re telling this story to a friend,” he explained. “We won’t have you look into the camera until the last shot.”
Sveyn read the words over and over again about not being able to find the right girl. Bars and workplaces hadn’t gotten him anywhere. So he finally decided to try Match Point as a last resort.
“While most dating sites advertise their successful connections, Match Point wants to mention the ways most couples meet,” James explained as he made slight changes to Sveyn’s words—he called it a script. “The obvious message is that since you’ve been unsuccessful at those, come try us.”
“And now I am available on Match Point,” Sveyn connected the ideas. “So will they look for me?”
“They’ll look for Eric. Match Point is setting up a profile for him.”
Sveyn frowned. “But there is no Eric.”
James capped the marker. “Right. But when they do look for Eric, they’ll find other guys that do exist and hopefully make a connection with some of them.”
On one hand, Sveyn thought the plan was a bit diabolical, the way they were deceiving women who were desperate to find a match. On the other, he couldn’t wait to see ‘Eric’s’ profile.
For the final shot, Sveyn was to look into the camera with a variety of expressions and say different versions of, “Are you my match?” and “Let’s be happily ever after.”
“It’s a thing,” Rochelle explained. “The fairy tale ending.”
All the fairy tales Sveyn was familiar with had nothing to do with happy endings. Most were horrifying.
When Chad, Rochelle, and James finished staring at the back of the camera and mumbling to each other, James looked at Sveyn and grinned. “That’s a wrap.”
“What is a wrap?”
“Green. Got it.” Green again? “That means we are finished. You’re done.”
Sveyn reached for the phone in his hip pocket and texted Hollis: I am finished.
*****
Hollis left the office immediately when she got Sveyn’s text three-and-a-half hours after dropping him off. When she arrived at the agency, he was waiting outside.
Oh, well.
No more inside-the-shoot experiences.
Once he was in the car she asked, “How was it?”
“Interesting.” He faced her after connecting his seatbelt. “They had me sitting in front of a very green wall the whole time.”
“A green screen? So they can change the background?” Hollis shifted into drive. “That saves them a ton of time—which they don’t have—and a ton of money, which I’m betting that they do.”
Sveyn looked confused. “Can you explain to me how this is done?”
The obvious answer stood up and waved. “Better. I can show you.”
Hollis drove to downtown Phoenix, where the channel twelve television station had built a windowed studio by the sidewalk. Hollis parked around the corner of the building, fed the meter, and pulled Sveyn to the windows.
She looked at her watch. “The midday newscast is just ending. Look at the guy standing in front of the green screen. He’s about to give an update on the weather, so when he does look at the monitor.”
Sveyn’s eyes moved from man to monitor and back again. “It looks so real…”
“Yep. The computer replaces the green in the background with whatever image is chosen.” Hollis snickered. “No, I don’t know how, so don’t ask.”
Sveyn looked at her. “So you can never know if someone is where they say they are.”
“No, but you can usually tell if it’s real or fake.”
“Eric is not real, but he will have a profile on Match Point.”
Sveyn’s matter-of-fact tone was at odds with his startling words. “Really?”
“Yes.” He turned his blue eyes on hers. “In this century, I do not think you can ever believe what you see if you do not see it for yourself.”
Sunday
February 7
Hollis got out of her car at Virginia’s House and retrieved her yellow Regency-era gown from the back seat. Sveyn did the same with his outfit. As they walked through the back gate, they were met by a pretty brunette woman with a bubbly personality.
“Hi, I’m Natalie. Welcome to Virginia’s House.” She addressed Sveyn first. “The groomsmen’s changing area is inside the guesthouse. George is already in there.”
“Thank you.” Sveyn slung his garment bag over his shoulder and headed toward the door.
“The ladies are in the house.” Natalie fell into step with Hollis. “This is such a fun idea for the wedding, dressing up and having it on a stage.”
“Have you heard of the Jane Austin Society of North America?” Hollis asked. “JASNA for short?”
“Not before this, but it does sound like something I would like.”
The little white house was charming. Built in nineteen-thirteen, Natalie said she bought it from its third owner, a woman named Virginia, who lived in it for almost fifty years.
“Hence the name.” She led Hollis inside. “We had her original wool carpet in here for several years, until the tears in it became a hazard.”
Hollis heard Stevie’s voice coming through a door. “Is that where we change?”
“It is.” Natalie knocked on the door.
It was pulled open from the inside. “Hollis is here!”
Natalie smiled. “Let me know if you ladies need anything.”
The horse and almost-period-correct buggy, which Stevie said George insisted on renting, stopped on the street in front of the house forty-five minutes before the wedding was scheduled to begin. There were only six blocks between Virginia’s House and the Chocolate Affaire, but they consisted of wide streets and high traffic so walking there in costume did present challenges.
“He wants everything to be perfect.” Stevie’s eyes glowed with happiness. “And I’m happily going along with it.”
The wedding party was small, but so was the buggy. The participants were carried in pairs and dropped off as close to the main stage as was possible in the enormous crowd. Hollis and Sveyn were the first couple transported.
“You look amazing,” she told him.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “As do you.”
Once everyone in the wedding party had arrived and the band started packing up, the pastor and JASNA member whom George flew in from Ohio to perform the ceremony stepped up to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to partake in a Jane-Aust
in-era wedding, complete with period-correct clothing and ceremony. Please stay and be our guests.”
As they climbed onto the stage, everyone took their spots: Hollis, Stevie’s cousin, and George’s sister stood next to Stevie. George’s brother, his best friend from the law firm, and Sveyn stood beside George.
“I will perform this wedding using The Book of Common Prayers, which is the basic text for the Anglican Church,” the pastor explained to the crowd. “I’m sure you will find much of it familiar.”
He faced Stevie and George, both looking like they were about to explode with glee.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, and signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
He went on to read the lengthy text, and Hollis was surprised at how much of it really was familiar: marriage is not to be taken unadvisedly… it was ordained for the procreation of children… it was ordained for mutual help, and comfort, both in prosperity and adversity.
“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Hollis worried that someone in the crowd might think this was a good time to jokingly object, and was very relieved when no one did.
“George Franklin Oswald, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” he answered.
“Stevie Marie Phillips, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Hollis thought Stevie never looked more beautiful as she did that moment in her pale blue silk gown, a complement to George’s navy blue waistcoat and brocade vest.
