Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In A Sapphire Slipper

Kit, an ex-actress who could look as demure as Miss Muffet when called for, eyed the glittering square diamond solitaire on her petite knuckle. “He did go all out when he finally went over to the wedlock side.”

“The stone is huge!”

Kit batted her eyelashes. “I’ve never bought the idea that small women should wear small hats and jewelry, have you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Besides”—Kit leaned in to examine the intricate ruby and diamond ring on Temple’s left hand—“who’d a thunk an ex-priest would come up with a vintage ring ripe for appearing in the original cast of Broadway Babies of 1935 . That’s a work of Art Deco.”

“He got it at a little shop around the corner of the Strip. Fred Leighton. The wedding ring itself is a pair of ruby circle guards.”

“I’ll be right there, ogling it at the ceremony.”

“My matron of honor.”

Kit teared up. She’d been a big-city career woman since college, and single. Who’d a thunk a Vegas hunk years her junior (who was counting exactly?) would be Mr. Right?

“Why can’t you be my matron of honor?” Kit said. “That would be so deliciously unexpected. Aren’t you and Matt getting a civil wedding here before going formal and letting your mom and dad back in Minnesota know?”

Temple sighed. “Maybe. Whatever we do, I don’t want to rush it.”

“Probably wise,” Kit said, “given the large dangling loose end.” She saw Temple’s expression wilt. “Oh, sorry! Slap me so I bite my tongue! I didn’t remember that Max’s old magic act used suspended animation and bungee acrobatics.”

Temple nodded, not able to speak for a moment, secretly afraid that Max wasn’t just missing, but dead.

“Listen, kitten. Just think how flabbergasted Karen will be when she comes for the wedding and gets a load of Aldo. Her old maid sister marrying a devastatingly eligible Fontana brother.”

“Mom’s coming?”

“Sure. I mean, she is essential family. Isn’t she? Look, I know you’ve been kinda distant, and I don’t know why, except the same thing happened to me thirty-five years ago when I left Minneapolis for a bigger, more exciting city.”

Temple had her hands to her face, which made the ring’s dazzle explode in the daylight from the room’s row of French doors. “Mom’s coming! Oh, my God. I hadn’t dreamed of that. I thought Matt and I would fly up to see her and Dad and everyone in Minnesota . . . later.”

“I doubt your brothers will come. Weddings are too girly. Bad enough they had to be at their own.”

Temple laughed shakily. “Oh, God, yes. Men in flannel shirts, wearing Frye boots.”

“Why did you leave Minneapolis for Vegas a couple years ago?”

“Yeah, but I did, love. I was doing PR for the Guthrie repertory company when he came through with his magic show.”

“He must have been some barnstormer to shake you loose of your Midwestern roots.”

Temple smiled nostalgically. “And . . . it was pretty overpro-tective up north. When my four older brothers stopped dodging me as a hopeless tagalong, no one would let me go anywhere on my own. Max was the Big Bad Wolf who stole Little Red Riding Hood.”

Kit reached out to stroke Temple’s shoulder-length hair. “Semi-red now. I love that strawberry color you put in over the blond dye job. How many PR women in this town go undercover for homicide lieutenants, I wonder?”

“You think the hair came out okay?”

“Great!”

“Why not? It’s our color, our Pink Lady color.” Temple was referring to her and Kit’s masquerade as Pink Hatters at the recent, and deadly, Red Hat Sisterhood convention at the Crystal Phoenix Hotel and Casino.

“My blushes, Watson.” Kit put her hands to her cheeks this time. “As an actress I just can’t bear to advertise my age to one and all.”

“Wearing a red hat does announce one is over fifty these days. Besides, red is not really your color.”

“Damn right. Unless I’ve put a foot in my mouth again and am emulating a beet. So you do like lilac. We’ll have to hit the high-end shops. No bridal shop regalia at my wedding. Something different.”

“Maybe vintage?”

“Maybe. Maybe Italian designer. Aldo is springing for my duds and price is no object.”

“Ivory leather? I saw a fabulous suit at Caesar’s Apian Way shops.”

“A leather wedding suit? Love it! You are radical.”

“It’s a pearlized ivory leather, with the jacket’s puffed sleeves and bodice leather done in cut-lace detail. It has a short skirt with a detachable bustle train that ends in just trailing lace. That would be too long on you, but all the more bridal.”

“Wonderful! Let’s go get it. We’ll find something for you along the way. I can’t believe I got talked into a formal wedding within six weeks of the engagement.”

“No problem, Kit. Van von Rhine could mount a British royal coronation in five days flat. All you have to worry about is showing up dressed.”

“Well, if I wanted to make trouble for myself, I could worry about the bachelor party the other nine Fontana boys are throwing for their eldest brother.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night. It’s a Monday, Matt’s night off at the radio station, so he can attend.”

“Where is it?”

“That’s the problem. It’s a secret. I know boys will be boys, but these ‘boys’ have been men on the town for a long time. I expect it will be bawdy, involve cigars, and strippers jumping out of things a lot more interesting than giant cakes.”

“Hey, Kit. Aldo’s not going to blow his first attempt at matrimony.”

“It’s not Aldo I’m worried about. It’s those fun-loving, hunky brothers of his.” Kit looked closely at Temple. “You’re frowning. You’re worried about the bachelor party too?”

“Well, Matt will be there, and that’s not exactly his scene. But, no, my mind was moss-gathering.”

“You’re too young for ‘moss-gathering.’ ”

“Issue-gathering, then. I just can’t believe Mom is coming to a place like Las Vegas on such short notice.”

“Kid, with us, the notice is always ‘short.’ “ Kit mugged the line, with an elbow to Temple’s ribs and a wink. Both were five feet flat, which is why they wore high heels. “Your landlady runs a wedding chapel, for heaven’s sake. She’ll help. The ceremony’s going to be held at your main hotel account, the Crystal Phoenix. Everything’s in place.”

“Except . . . except I wasn’t anticipating introducing Matt to my family so soon.”

“Why the hell not? He’s as presentable as Prince Charming. An ex-priest, for God’s sake. Any overprotective family has gotta love that. I mean, as Universal Unitarians, they’re very ecumenical, and he comes shrink-wrapped. What’s safer than that?”

Temple was blushing again. “Don’t remind me. They’ll worry about that. Ask embarrassing questions about his sex life. Matt isn’t used to family interrogations.”

“Un-huh. He handles anonymous callers with every kind of hang-up imaginable at the radio shrink line six nights a week. What makes you think he can’t handle your mother?”

“Because I can’t?”

“Gracious, girl. You’re all grown-up now. You’re a maid of honor for a mature bride. An engaged woman. You have been the paramour of a world-class magician and have an ex-priest lover. You have unmasked murderers.”

“Kit! You’re plotting a romance novel, not reality.”

“However you put it, I’d say maybe you’re grown-up enough to face down my sister, Karen. Who can be a teensy bit conservative.”

“You skipped town to get away from family pressure too.”

“True. Look, I’ll back you up. She will hit the roof over any off-white, high-end, train-trailing bridal gear of mine. I won’t tell her it was your idea. That ought to take the heat off. And we’ll get you something Miss Muffety in voile and satin with a Victorian high-collar neckline and a bow on the butt.”