“He’s not dead. That was a lie.”
She stood, despite the heavy chair, pushing it back with her legs as if she didn’t feel the effort.
“What are you saying?”
“You know what I said. But it doesn’t have to go further. I have a cell phone number. He can go away and never see us again at all.”
Her hand covered her mouth as if choking off a terrible cry.
“Not … dead? But—”
“He was … is from a wealthy family. Mistakes weren’t welcome in it. That’s all. He was told you were impossible to find.”
“The lawyers found me fine! He believed them?”
“They were convincing. Private detectives reported that they could find no girl named Mira in St. Stanislaus’s parish.”
“There were three in my high school class!”
“No right girl named Mira.”
“He believed them.”
“He’d been wounded. He was tired, confused. I can’t blame him, and, believe me, I wanted to more than I knew.”
“So. You’ve sorted it out. You two. You men. And now it’s up to me if I want to see him again.”
“Yes.”
“Does he want to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he hates that he was deceived. He would have done the right thing.”
“But he doesn’t love me.”
“He’s married.”
“With children?”
“Yes.”
She folded her lips. “I’m sorry, Matt. You’re the real victim of this. I’m sorry you had to learn what cold people you came from, partly. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry I asked you to look into this. You have a very stupid mother.”
“I have a very stubborn mother and I’m not sorry.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Swearing, Mom?”
Her lips twisted into an unwilling smile, despite the tears in her eyes. “Sometimes it’s called for. Why aren’t you sorry?”
“I’d rather know my father was lied to as well. That he wouldn’t have turned his back on us.”
“So he says now, seeing you face to face.”
“I believe him.”
“Well, fine. Can we go now?”
“Let me pay the tab first.”
“Tab? You expected a long night of drinking and reminiscences maybe?”
“I don’t know what I expected. You’re the one. Whatever you want or need. We agreed on that.”
“You and your … father. Why do I feel it’s always a conspiracy of men?”
“There are so many of us? Really. Take your time. You can always change your mind.”
“No, Matt. I can’t. I haven’t been able to act according to my own mind since that night that changed everything. Let’s leave. Your cousin Krys gets moody when I monopolize you too much. That girl! All hormones. No shame. Wish I’d been like her. Nothing would have mattered as much.”
“You underestimate Krys. Everything matters too much with her. And I like you just the way you are.”
“You can’t fool me. That’s a Billy Joel song. ‘Just the Way You Are.’ The Muzak at the restaurant plays it all the time.”
He sighed, signed the credit card slip, and left a generous tip.
They walked out of the bar’s calculated dimness into the glaring brightness of the hotel lobby, all slick marble floors and walls and glittering oversize chandeliers.
At the bank of house phones, he saw Winslow and nodded imperceptibly.
He thought.
His mother wrenched her neck in that direction, stared for a long moment, then took his arm and drew him toward the rank of glass doors leading to the hotel porte cochere.
He saw her into a cab and sent her to work at Poland-ski’s Restaurant.
Then he turned and went back in to have a postmortem with his father.
“So how did it go?” Krys asked when he got back to his mother’s apartment way too late.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“Mira won’t be off her shift until midnight. How did it go?”
“It didn’t.”
“You look horrible.”
“From you, that’s a new one.”
“I mean you look like you’ve been through it.”
“Imagine brokering a truce between Israel and Palestine.”
“That bad? I made some hot tea.”
“Like I need caffeine.”
“I’ve never seen you testy before.”
“She didn’t want to see him and I had to tell him afterward.”
“Testy on you is not bad, mind you.”
Matt wasn’t too emotionally exhausted to smile, which she’d wanted to make him do. Among other things. He couldn’t encourage her hopeless crush, but he knew a lot more about longing and forbidden love and all that sticky emotional stuff now than he’d known the first time they’d met last Christmas. He had to respect her feelings even as he had to discourage them. Had to clear the decks for the real guy who was waiting for her somewhere down the road to maturity.
“Krys. Mom’s going to be coming home very soon and I don’t want to go into anything deep now. I’d like to be safe in my room, totally out of it.”
“That could be arranged.”
“Krys. No. You’re a sweet, funny girl but not my girl. This is way out of your league.”
“No, it isn’t. It looks like it’s about them—him and her—but it’s about you. You’re in the middle. I don’t care how smart you are, or how cool you act, or how … shrinky. It’s gotta be awful.”
He took the cup of tea she held out. “Herbal,” she told him, sounding like a nurse. “Won’t get on your nerves, like I do.”
He had to smile. Again.
But he was glad to be leaving Chicago tomorrow.
Chapter 58
Showdown
Mariah searched the audience. The spotlights had panned earlier on Molina and escort in row five, beaming. Well, Molina was actually smiling. The guy with her had the quizzical expression of a classic observer.
“Mom!” Mariah ran to join her in the audience now that the swirl of excitement was over. Mariah had lost but so had Elvis. Not bad company.
A vapid blonde had won Temple’s erstwhile division, and a younger vapid blonde had won Mariah’s. They’d both applauded politely, and whispered “wicked” at each other, then giggled.
Temple glanced out of the corner of her eye at Rafi Nadir. He was watching the Molina family reunion with the slow-mo reaction of Tommy Smothers trying to come up with the right answer for his brother, Dick. Wheels turning, mired in alternatives, searching for the one, the right answer.
With the Smothers Brothers it was high comedy. With Rafi Nadir and Carmen and Mariah Molina it could be high tragedy.
Temple felt her neck and shoulder muscles clench. Nothing a knowledgeable PR ace could do about this kind of crisis.
Molina never acknowledged Nadir’s presence, existence, anything about him.
Temple could read the pantomime in the impromptu family vignette arranged for the cameras: Larry, the new guy, scooted down so Mariah could sit by her mother, who was making all the proud and proper maternal motions. Larry was leaving the spotlight—and the television coverage, Temple noticed—to mother and daughter. Was that sensitivity … or a need to avoid being recognized?
She eyed Nadir again. Still mentally doing the math, trying to figure out when Mariah must have been born … impossible to calculate without her birth date.
Temple bet he would get it somehow, as soon as possible. Molina had ducked the inevitable tonight, partly through the strategy of her new male escort … was he hired muscle? Something about him read “professional” along with “don’t tread on me.”
Temple waited until the spotlight and camera lens had moved on to the next performer before skittering over to congratulate Mariah in a whisper.”..
.great,” Molina was whispering to Mariah. “Listen. I think you’re old enough now. There’s something you should know.”
Molina spied Temple and stopped talking, darn it! Temple leaned down and hugged Mariah. “Great job on the song. Sony you didn’t win.”
“Wow. I feel like I have. Mom, Temple has been just the best roomie in the whole world.”