Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In A White Tie And Tails

“That’s better.” Temple smiled and cuddled into his opening arms. The consultation had become a billing and cooing session, as if they were discussing their own wedding arrangements.

“I don’t know,” she said, “what I’d do if my parents were single and embarking on matrimony on my watch. I’d probably freak too. What you will do is calm down and collect the happy couple from the airport. PR whiz here will handle the rest.”

“You’re thinking of having it here at the Lovers’ Knot Chapel?” he asked.

“Perfect. They’ll have that impulsive Vegas feeling, but well in hand. We are talking about folks in their fifties.”

“Who are acting like impulsive kids.”

“When you think about it, they’re being super smart. They don’t need all the family drama and angst. They need to show up back home, decision made, deed done, and get on with their lives.”

“My family was actually upset when Mom called off the marriage,” Matt pointed out, “but the ‘deed’ isn’t done if it’s not performed at a Catholic church.”

“The families will grouse that it wasn’t held at St. Stan’s Cathedral, but older people don’t care for all that pomp and circumstance anyway. A lot of people don’t nowadays, given the economy. There’s a reason so many people get married in Las Vegas. Isn’t there some way they can get the Church to bless their union?”

Matt thought hard for a few moments. “Yes, actually. They could arrange a private marriage with the parish priest afterwards. They’ll have had the honeymoon first, but I was marrying couples who’d lived together and got separate residences three months before the ceremony back when I was still officiating.” Matt got a funny look on his face. “Do you suppose this … tomorrow night, would be their first, uh, time? You know. Together.”

“You are blushing. Probably. From what you’ve told me, they’re both devout rules followers. This whole trip is only because your Mom really wants you there.”

“Why? To okay her … living in sin for a few days?”

“No! To okay her making a good choice for her life going forward … and maybe … to okay your ‘living in sin.’ What is that about, Matt, really? Where’s the sin if labeling people makes a hell of her life and yours? I say the shame is in the labeling.”

Matt was silent for a moment. “Okay. What do we need?”

“While you’re picking and dropping tonight, I’ll alert Van von Rhine at the Phoenix and get Electra on the case here. The only thing that would thrill Electra more would be marrying you and me. First thing in the morning, eight A.M. sharp, we whisk them to the LV Marriage Bureau. They show ID, sign the paperwork, pay a sixty-dollar fee, and they are ready to commit matrimony.”

“You’ve got this routine down.” Matt raised an eyebrow, then ended organizational matters for the time being with a definitely living-in-sin kiss. “How long have you had designs on me?”

He was kidding, but Temple felt her cheeks warm. “Longer than even I knew.”

Well, that called for another pause in the proceedings.

Temple explained herself. “It’s part of my job to know how things work in this town. Also, we did talk about doing a civil marriage before a church wedding, once upon a time.”

“Doesn’t seem so long ago,” Matt said. “Maybe we should do that now, make it a double ceremony.”

Temple produced an expression of mock shock. “Now that your mother is skipping over the fences, our status worries you?”

“Your well-being worries me. If we were married, one way or another, I could forbid you getting involved in events that could kill you.”

“Think again. I bet ‘obey’ is excised from the vows even in church weddings these days.”

“You’re correct,” Matt said, “but I could keep you so busy and distracted that you’d never want to leave home again.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Temple said finally, “but we don’t have time for you to prove your point. Before you collect the bridal couple, let me make sure Electra can do the ceremony.”

Her quick call and request were greeted by surprise and the usual efficiency.

“You want to arrange a wedding here? Tomorrow? This is so sudden, Temple, dear. No problem. ‘Sudden’ is a justice of the peace’s expertise. I’ll come right down to your place.”

“Uh-oh,” Temple said, signing off. “She thinks it’s us.”

“I suppose it could be us,” Matt pointed out. Again.

“A double wedding is a sweet idea, but your mother should be the star of the show.”

“There’ll only be us and them and Electra attending. Not much ‘show.’”

“That’s why the Lovers’ Knot is the perfect site. There’s an entire soft-sculpture congregation present. And, unlike relatives, they keep their mouths shut.”

“I don’t know what Mom will think about having Elvis in the building.”

Electra’s finest soft sculpture was a jumpsuited Elvis wearing blue suede shoes.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Temple jumped up to grab a narrow grocery list notepad from the kitchen. It was headlined by a dancing chorus line of spectacle-wearing carrots and Mr. and Mrs. Potato Heads. “Does your mother have a special dress? And she’ll need flowers. A bouquet.”

The doorbell rang, so Matt admitted Electra. Her signature muumuu of the day was a snappy black-and-white print that coordinated with the very Lady Gaga black streaks in her permed halo of white hair.

“Did I hear you mention a bouquet, Temple?” Electra bustled into the living room and sat on the sofa spot Matt had deserted. “I’ll provide the flowers. But why such a hurry, you two? This will have to be a very simple affair on such short notice. It’s not like Temple is pregnant.”

“It’s my mother who’s getting married,” Matt said quickly, sitting on a side chair. “Her name is Mira Zabinski. She and her fiancé, Philip Winslow, are flying down from Chicago as we speak.”

“Really? Well.” Electra fluffed her hair. “I pride myself on immediate response. Vegas was built in the old days on blood-test-free quickie marriages, but the Lovers’ Knot Wedding Chapel ‘puts the classy in quickie.’ They’re not bringing down an entourage?”

Matt shook his head. “No. They want it low-key. Temple and I will be there. That’s it.”

“Sorry, my boy, that is not ‘it.’ I have flowers and music to arrange, on the house, of course.”

“Matt could play the organ,” Temple volunteered.

While Matt raised his eyebrows, Electra applauded. “Yes, I remember you noodling around on my Hammond electric in the chapel over a year ago. Quite respectably. What was that Bob Dylan tune you thought would make a great wedding processional?”

“You’d make a good memory-policewoman,” Matt said, chagrinned.

He’d caught and interpreted Temple’s raised eyebrows look, which wondered, Were you mooning over little me way back then?

He moved on, fast. “Yeah. It has a great processional vibe, and the lyrics are appropriate. That was ‘Love Minus Zero over No Limit’ … slash mark between ‘Minus Zero’ and ‘No Limit.’”

“What does that title mean?” Temple wondered.

“Bob Dylan envisioned the words written as a mathematical fraction. ‘Love Minus Zero,’ then a line, and below that, ‘No Limit.’ It’s a cryptic, non-schmaltzy way of saying unconditional love.”

“I love it!” Temple responded unconditionally. “You’re hired. Electra, can the bride’s bouquet include something blue besides the usual pale tea roses? Her eyes are the most gorgeous clear light blue color.”

“That’s something blue,” Electra said, checking off a mental list. “What about something borrowed?”