Cat In A White Tie And Tails

“Pretty much what you did, Mira, when Matt left Chicago.” Temple had graduated fast to first names. She knew Mira had picked the last name Devine for Matt out of some subconscious bin so his young life wasn’t tarred with Effinger’s last name, or her family’s. He’d had a ready-made stage name, Devine, thanks to Mira’s girlish fantasies. Once she and Matt were married she would be Temple Barr Devine, not Effinger and not Zabinski. TBD. Cool.

“I’m the only girl,” Temple explained to keep the conversation going while she was still eavesdropping, “and the youngest child, with four older brothers. My parents worried about their little girl in big, bad Sin City, but I’ve done fine. I have my own PR business, a great place to live, and now a fabulous fiancé.”

“And this cat here earns his own way?”

“Sometimes,” Temple said cautiously.

“He was in TV commercials.”

“Oh, that. Yes.”

“So you have two media men around the place?”

Startled, Temple said, “Yes.” Then she realized what Mira was getting at. She wasn’t used to strict religious concerns shading every word and act. “Matt’s apartment is a floor above my condo in the Circle Ritz apartment building. Louie’s my resident male. So far.”

“Dear, I wouldn’t be shocked to know you were living together.”

“Great. But we’re not. Quite.”

“You’ll have to watch it around my family tomorrow, but not me.” Mira lowered her eyes. “It’s easier to advise a younger generation than to make my own stand for independence from family.”

“Hey. You’re living here with a member of the younger generation. Mondo hip, mama.” Eeek! Zoe Chloe had surfaced. Must be nerves.

Mira laughed. “You’re so clever and funny. Matt told me you were.”

“What else did he tell you?” She really, really wanted to know.

Mira looked past Temple, her smile staying too long, until it looked glazed and forced.

Temple’s confidence crashed. She’d hoped she was making a connection with Matt’s mother, but the woman was clearly putting on her emotions like a mask.

“Come in, sit down, you two,” Mira invited Matt and his cousin with as much summoned warmth as if she’d been playing the hostess in a restaurant by rote. “Or … wait. Krys, can you get some glasses and that bottle of sherry from Christmas? We should toast the engaged couple.”

Matt sat on an upholstered chair as Krys stood still, her expression a blend of distaste … and reluctance to leave the room for even a moment. The girl’s territorial fixation on Matt would have amused Temple if she hadn’t been involved.

Then Krys whirled and left, her short-short skirt hem flouncing. Bursts of hurrying steps and banging cupboards in the kitchen revealed Krys’s rebellious mood, while Mira smiled apologetically at their guests.

Krys was back, openly annoyed. “I can’t find that sherry bottle. Any sherry bottle. Any frickin’ dessert wine bottle.”

“Oh.” Mira puzzled for a moment. “Maybe we took that bottle to family dinner two weeks ago.”

“I don’t remember that, Mira.”

“I’m sure that’s what happened to it.” Mira’s appealing glance flicked from Matt to Temple. “Things have been so … busy. Krys, would you mind running to Woz´niak’s and getting another bottle?”

“Uh, Mira.” Krys pulled a cell phone from the tiny steel-spiked bag on her low-slung black leather belt, worn over that white tutu of a short skirt. “They close in less than half an hour.”

“Then you’ll have to hurry, won’t you?”

“Uh, sure.” Krys backed out of the room, and turned fast. Temple heard the scrape of car keys against a metal surface, likely a dish, then the apartment door opening and closing.

Mira sat back and closed her eyes just as Matt sat forward, his dark brown ones focused on her. “A Woz´niak’s run will take Krys at least half an hour, Mom. Where’s the wine bottle, really?”

Her blue eyes opened, looking haunted. “Empty. In my bottom dresser drawer.”

Struck again by the dramatic difference in mother and son’s eye color, Temple wondered what Matt’s father would look like as she met his shocked gaze. She knew what he was thinking: Had his mom become a secret drinker?

Mira continued speaking, but her eyes didn’t focus on them, only elsewhere in the room as if her own inner turmoil were lurking somewhere in the domestic landscape and she hoped to keep it at bay.

“Matt, I don’t want your lovely fiancée dragged headfirst into family business, but I don’t think I can stand the pretense anymore.”

“You’ve been under a lot of strain lately.” Matt was trying to remain neutral and supportive.

She laughed bitterly. “That’s nothing new for me, Matt. My whole life’s been ‘a lot of strain.’”

“True.” He took her hands. “And I haven’t been here for you lately, but that can change right now. I can be here to see you through.”

“You can’t help.”

“Sure I can. It’s my job.”

“Not this.” She put white, cold fingers to her visibly flushed cheeks and shut her eyes.

Matt exchanged another glance with Temple. “Is it the … wretched coincidence?” he asked his mother.