Cat In A White Tie And Tails

“Good,” Matt said. “There’s no need for you to share what happened thirty-five years ago with any of your family members. Or,” he told Jon, “to mess with family inheritances out of a sense of guilt. Money never makes things better, it just buys lawyers boats. Mira is a widow with a son from a previous marriage. I even have a different surname. Book closed. If Mom does marry Philip, she’ll be well provided for without Jon having anything to do with it.”

Jon’s head was still lowered, but now he shook it. Not in disagreement, Temple saw, but with both gratitude and regret for Matt’s generous dismissal of the past and all its pain.

“I’d be proud,” Jon mumbled, “to introduce you as my son.”

“But you don’t need to,” Matt said, “and I don’t need that either. The best gift we could give my mother is a discreet, happy ending. Now,” he added, “if the brothers Winslow will allow Temple and me to escape to have some time to anticipate another stressful dinner date with network executives, I’ll leave you two with a three-step program.

“Jon and Philip. Talk it all out until you’re sick of your own memories, grief, uncertainty, and guilt. Then, Philip, call my mother. Her withdrawal had thirty percent to do with the brothers thing and seventy percent with a ‘hidden planet’ in her life even I didn’t know about. Let that go. Last, she needs to meet with Jon so all of you can be sure that her love for Philip is unshakable.”

“Wait.” Philip put a hand on Matt’s forearm. “You say she loves me?”

“Yes, but we all need to make sure she can put that Romeo and Juliet thing behind her.

“Then…,” Matt said.

The brothers were sliding out of the banquette to make way for Matt and Temple to exit, a mutual expression of dumbfounded hope on their faces. Now they looked like brothers. Temple jammed her feet back in the high heels and prepared to scoot out.

“Then, what?” Jon asked.

“Someone call me in Vegas and let me know what happens. Nice to meet you. Thanks for lunch.” Matt handed out two business cards and took Temple’s elbow to head for the exit.

She was still breathless as they waited for the elevator to the street level. “Wow. Mr. CEO of reconciliation,” Temple said. “That was … like a takeover bid, Matt.”

“I knew it would be all right the moment I saw Philip.”

“He’s a pretty likable guy.”

“That’s not it,” Matt said. “He doesn’t look anything like his brother.”

Temple gazed at him blankly for a few moments.

“Oh. You mean your mother didn’t fall for the family resemblance, but the real man.”

Matt produced a Cheshire cat grin. “Smart girl. You and her.”

*   *   *

“Our last night in utter Luxe coming up in about six hours,” Temple announce lazily, staring up at the ceiling, which was bordered by white enameled decorative molding on a glossy white surface that discreetly reflected them in bed.

It was not so discreet that it didn’t reveal He and She in the altogether with a tangled sheet in the general vicinity and a big black blot at the foot of the huge mattress.

“We look like Hollywood stars from the bedroom-glamour thirties on the Big White Set,” Temple said, stretching luxuriously. “I feel so Jean Harlow. Bring on the satin sheets tonight! Do you think room service will accommodate us?”

“We just acted like that,” Matt said, rolling over to replace the Big White Ceiling in her view. “We don’t need satin sheets, and we’re running way behind schedule.”

Temple put her hands on his jaws and smiled into his eyes. “You were just so hot, the way you manhandled the situation with the older, richer, guiltier guys. Prince Valiant, only blond. Your mother could not have had a better champion and I could not have been prouder. I love you.”

Well, that comment didn’t exactly make up for any lost time on the getting-ready front, and Louie was forced to flee to the floor again.

*   *   *

“Dinner.” Temple groaned as they were dressing and duding up for the dinner with the “network people” forty minutes later. “Can one actually tire of five-star food? I crave a simple Happy Meal.”

Temple turned from the suite’s full-length bedroom mirror. “Does this look sufficiently enough like what these guys’ wives would wear?”

Matt peeked in, topless, from the bathroom clasping a buzzing electric razor. “I’m no expert, but that must be an exquisitely expensive suit.”

He eyed the short pale gold silk dress under a bolero jacket with glitz-dusted cuffs.

Temple shimmied her shoulders twice and spun to show off the subtle glitter woven into the outfit’s classic Coco Chanel lines. “I figured your possible future bosses would notice. St. John’s knit.”

“Yeah? I don’t think any saint designed that. It’s like you’re wearing liquid Karo syrup on the way to a mud-wrestling match.”

She laughed. “Glad you noticed. Sophisticated slink. Courtesy of the Grand Bahama Mama resale shop on Charleston in Vegas.”

“I can buy you upscale business clothes.”