“I’m pleased, actually,” Electra said, wincing despite her words as a workman braced the glass door open with his sweaty back. “Matt deserves a more . . . active social life, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. He deserves anything he can get. Within reason. And . . . within the rules of his religion, of course.”
By which she meant utterly the opposite.
Temple nodded, afraid to say another word.
About fifteen minutes later, Temple was allowed up into her own rooms. Above them came the expected thump and pound of a major furniture installation.
Temple started like a nervous gerbil at every sound. Matt and a king-size bed was not good. Not good for her peace of mind. He’d just semi-proposed to her a few nights ago. Good thing Kit was out flitting about and not here to ask awkward questions.
Temple still didn’t know what to make of the proposal, much less a new bed. Beds were way more stressful, actually. Especially when she knew about them. It. Big. Expensive. Not kidding around. The whole enchilada.
Speaking of beds, Midnight Louie was staking his usual claim to hers, which used to be theirs when Max had still lived here. Louie had beaten her home, as usual. That was getting rather uncanny, if she had time to get rattled thinking about it. She would have loved to have a word with him about his New Millennium presence, but, unlike a human roommate, he never explained himself. Maybe that was a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Temple smiled to view Louie’s luxuriating black feline form making a swatch like an Asian letter across her zebra-striped comforter. Beds were for stretching and sleeping, Louie announced in his catlike way.
Then her doorbell rang.
What didn’t she want to know now?
By the time she reached the door, she was prepared to be perfectly blasé about any improvements her upstairs neighbor was adding to his apartment.
Blasé went out the window when she found Danny Dove on the threshold, leaning like a lazy imp against the door jamb.
“Danny! How are you? Come in. What a surprise to see you again.”
“And these are your Circle Ritz digs. Charming. I adore this building.”
Temple recalled that he and Simon had been enchanted with the idea of establishing a pied-a-terre here. Danny Dove, being a major—if not
So, now their happy chatter about the Circle Ritz resonated like a dirge.
“It’s rather small and quaint,” Temple said, trying to take the gloss off a rose that had wilted beyond revival.
“That’s what we . . . I love about the place.” Danny paused in her living room. “May I see the rest of it?”
“I . . . suppose so.”
Choreographers are similar to generals. They see and direct the big picture. They push ahead where they’re not wanted. Danny headed right for Temple’s bedroom.
“Delightful. So
“Yes, they’re all different. Danny, are you still planning to move here?”
“Maybe. I have to tour the premises first. Oh, look at the shoes! So you, munchkin. You really need a top-drawer display rack for them all. Just like a department store. Shoes Are
“Are you . . . getting into interior design?”
He turned and regarded her seriously. “I learned a lot from Simon. Interior design too. I’m happy to share that with my friends. It’s a pity to know something and never pass it on.”
Temple nodded with a lump in her throat. She didn’t fully understand the why and wherefore of Danny’s visit, but recognized that it was a kind of catharsis for him.
Danny, meanwhile, was playing the ideal home decor maven. “The cat, I suppose, is not a built-in accessory. He adds a great deal to the ambiance, you know.”
Temple couldn’t help smiling. “I know. Louie is the mascot of the whole Circle Ritz.”
“Master I could believe.
“Wait! Danny. Don’t you want a . . . cup of tea? Something?”
“Gracious no. I have work to do upstairs.”
“Work? Upstairs?”
“I am still consulting, and just now I’m masterminding the choreography of the master suite, of course.”
“Matt’s?”
“Is there anyone else residing directly above you? I hope not. The dear boy gave me to believe it is to be a bachelor pad, as they used to say before you were born.”