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She laughed. “We’re here to serve.”
Aglow with satisfaction, Matt breezed into the lounge room in search of his mother. It was a friendly room. Deeply cushioned sofas and armchairs and footstools were spread around numerous coffee tables loaded with a variety of books and magazines. In one corner, a bench held all the provisions for a variety of herbal and ordinary teas. In another, a three thousand piece jigsaw puzzle was laid out on a table as an ongoing challenge for any guest to try their hand at it. A piano sat in a third, inviting anyone to play. Best of all was the massive fireplace at the end of the room where burning logs crackled a warm welcome.
Good room for a family, Matt thought, as he strolled through it. A sociable room. No television. He particularly liked the piano. He’d had a few piano lessons as a boy, until they got in the way of football training and other sports. He regretted giving it up. The electronic keyboard he’d bought in recent years gave him a lot of enjoyment, but if he acquired a big house, he’d get a piano. His kids would have fun banging on it, just as he had.
His mother was sitting close to the fire, looking down at her hands spread out in front of her and wriggling her fingers. Having seen Skye and Janelle perform this curious action, Matt knew the nail polish from the manicure wasn’t dry yet. What did surprise him was the rather smugly admiring smile on his mother’s face.
“Pretty colour on your nails, Mum,” he remarked, drawing her attention to his presence.
She looked up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “It’s called Perfect Peach. It does look nice against my skin tone, doesn’t it? The manicurist said it
would.”
He lowered himself into the chair next to her, smiling his approval. “You should buy it. Better still, go and have a manicure every week.”
“Yes. I think I will. She dipped my hands into a wax bath and it’s made them feel soft and silky, not old at all.”
This was good news. “You aren’t old, Mum. No reason to feel it, either,” he pressed pointedly.
“I might try getting my hair coloured, too.” She held up her hands to assess them again. “Not as bright as my nails, but something like this peachy shade. It does suit my skin.”
This was even better news, taking a positive interest in her appearance. “Great idea!” Matt enthused. He reminded himself to give his secretary a box of her favourite Belgian chocolates. Her health farm idea was turning out to be a winner, in more ways than one.
“Oh! You’ve got your really classy sweater on.”
“Mmmh...”
“Did you have a nice game of tennis with Peta, dear?”
“Yes, I did. She’s a top ‘A’ grade player. Almost wiped me off the court.”
His mother looked delighted. “How wonderful to find someone who can match you. It’s so important to be able to play together. Your father and I...”
Matt switched off from the list of fond recollections, his mind wandering to the games he’d really like to play with Peta Kelly.
“Where does she live?”
He snapped out of his fantasies. “Who?”
His mother sighed in vexation. “Peta.”
“Haven’t got a clue.”
An exasperated roll of the eyes. “Where is she now?”
He shrugged his ignorance. “She went off on her own after our tennis match.”
“I don’t know where your mind is, Matt.” Her tone was loaded with reproof. “You meet an extremely attractive woman. She’s competent enough to hold a responsible job, athletic, obviously very bright, and the right age for you, too. It’s opportunity handed to you on a plate and you just let it go past you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mum.”
“You’re not even trying.” She turned away in disgust and stared bitterly at the log fire. “You’ll end up a lonely old bachelor and I’ll never get a grandchild.”
How about four in fairly quick succession?
Matt didn’t voice the thought.
Some things were best kept private.
