Pleased, I gave her another big smile. I really had worked hard to get where I was now. Nice that someone noticed. “Thank you, Shiva. I’ll give you a quick tour in a minute, if you’d like.”
“Yes, I would like that very much.” She walked around the worktable, trailing her hand along the smooth wood counter as she took in everything. “Abraham was so proud of you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said, beaming. “I really appreciate hearing that.”
“Mom,” Robin said as she slipped off her coat, “let’s get a margarita and relax.”
“Of course.” Shiva stared at the shelves as she circled the table.
“Mom?”
“What?” She blinked, then smiled. “Yes. Margaritas. Goodness, what are we waiting for?”
“Let me hang up your coats,” I said. “Then we can go to the kitchen.”
“I love this room,” Shiva said as I opened the closet door and hung up their coats. “So much creativity. I can feel your energy in here. What are in those cupboards up there? Oh, is this Rajiv’s Kama Sutra? Oh, my.”
I turned in time to see that she’d lifted the white cloth to peek underneath. Wincing, I said, “I’m sorry it’s in pieces, but that’s the best way to clean and resew it. It’ll be as good as new when I’m finished; I promise.”
She nodded but seemed not to have heard me as she stared at the book.
I’d always tried to avoid having my book-loving clients observe my work or witness their property in this broken condition. It was stressful seeing their favorite book taken apart and strewn out over my table. I liked to compare it to seeing a loved one in surgery, although I supposed that was a slight exaggeration. Still, the point was that, intellectually, you might understand what was happening, but in reality, you just didn’t want to have to see it with your own eyes.
Shiva continued to gape in rapt fascination. She touched the red leather cover tentatively, felt the padding, then started to reach for one of the pages.
“Mom,” Robin said, jerking her head toward my living area, “Margaritaville is this way.”
“All right, dear.” She joined us and laughed gaily. “I don’t believe I’ve had a margarita in at least three or four years. I think my mouth is watering.”
“How did you ever last that long?” I asked.
She laughed again. “I have no idea.”
“Oh, here’s Pookie,” Robin said as she entered the living room. “Hello, my feline friend.”
Pookie wrapped her body around Robin’s legs and purred in happiness. Apparently, I remained the one human being in the world Pookie had no use for at all.
“She likes you a lot,” I said with a sigh.
“That’s because I love her,” Robin crooned, and lifted the cat onto her shoulder. “She took good care of me.”
“Robin, what are you doing?” Shiva said. “You don’t like cats.”
“I do now,” Robin said, her voice muffled by Pookie’s fur in her face.
“My goodness, you never wanted a cat,” Shiva said, looking confused. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”
I couldn’t blame Shiva for her reaction. It was sort of a shock to me, too. Robin had turned into a cat person in her short time living here with me and Derek and Pookie.
While Robin was staying here, Pookie had seemed to recognize that she was in pain. The cat had comforted her, curling up on the couch next to her and sleeping in the guest room with her. I loved the cat for her natural empathy, even if she barely acknowledged to me.
“Do you think you’ll get a cat now?” I asked her as I took the pitcher of margaritas out of the fridge and filled three salt-rimmed glasses.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, grinning at the irony. It used to be that whenever one of us broke up with a boyfriend, we would tease each other about buying a cat to keep us company. Now it seemed at least one of us was seriously considering the idea.
There was a knock at the door. “That should be Suzie and Vinnie. Be right back.”
“Hello, Brooklyn,” Vinnie said when I opened the door. They walked in with armfuls of bags that they dumped on the kitchen bar.
I looked inside the bags. “What’s all this?”
“Wine and some Thai food leftovers for you,” Vinnie whispered, pointing out the appropriate bags. “And Suzie made guacamole for tonight.”
“Ooh, yummy,” I said, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of those leftovers.
“And I brought you a poultice for your bad hip.”
Robin frowned. “You have a bad hip?”
“No.”
“She was limping earlier,” Suzie said.
“Really?” Robin said, her lips quivering as she tried not to guffaw.
I ignored her and turned to my neighbors. “Do you both want margaritas?”
Suzie grinned. “Does a polar bear shi—”
“Shush, Suzie, you are not to be uncouth,” Vinnie said. “Brooklyn has company.”
“Company?” Suzie spread her arms wide. “Well, what am I, chopped liver?”
“She is in a state,” Vinnie said, rolling her eyes.
Robin grinned. “Suzie and Vinnie, this is my mother, Shiva Quinn.”
“Oh, hell, sorry,” Suzie said, slapping her forehead. “I’m feeling a little frisky tonight.” She reached out to give Shiva’s hand a rousing shake. “Vinnie’s right; I’m a toad. But it’s great to meet you. Robin’s world-class.”
“Thank you,” Shiva said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “It’s lovely to meet you, too.”
Vinnie nodded her head respectfully. “I am Vinamra Patel, and I am so pleased to meet you. We love your daughter very much.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Shiva said. “You’re Indian.”
“Yes, madam.”
Shiva touched her chest with both hands. “I live in Varanasi.”
Vinnie smiled as she nodded again. “Yes, Robin has told us all about you and your beautiful home overlooking the Ghats.”
Shiva blinked, then whipped around to find Robin. “You never told me you had Indian friends.”
“I’m sure I mentioned Vinnie and Suzie.”
“But I thought Vinnie was a . . . Never mind. Really, Robin, you should’ve told me.” She turned back and smiled. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Vinamra.”
Vinnie’s laugh was melodic. “Please call me Vinnie. I’m so looking forward to hearing about your wonderful life in my homeland.”
“I would love to share some of my memories with you.”
I poured two more margaritas and passed all the glasses across the bar. “Here you go.”
“Awesome,” Suzie said, and took care of passing the other drink to Vinnie, who sat at the dining table with Pookie on her lap. Shiva sat next to her and they chatted quietly. I grabbed my own drink and walked around the bar to join the group in the dining area.
“Cheers and welcome,” I said, and we all clinked glasses and sipped. I looked at Suzie. “So, why are you feeling so frisky?”
“Oh, dude, wait’ll you hear.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Vinnie.
“Wait. Do I really want to know?”
“Yes.” Vinnie laughed again. “Suzie and I have taken the grand prize in the Stanislaus County wood arts festival.”
“Hey, that’s fantastic,” Robin said, and toasted them with her glass.
“Wow, congratulations.” I set my drink on the dining room table and gave first Suzie, then Vinnie a big hug. “That’s wonderful. Was this for the flying pyramid?”
“Yes.”
“Told you that piece was a winner,” Suzie gloated with glee.
“Congratulations,” Shiva said politely.
Vinnie smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“What is it you do?” Shiva asked a moment later.
Robin grinned. “Chain-saw sculptures, Mom.”
“Oh, my.”
As I moved back into the kitchen to grab the bowls I’d piled high with chips, salsa, and Suzie’s guacamole, I described the sculpture to Robin and Shiva: a massive wooden pyramid with wings, eight feet tall and nearly as wide, carved from one piece of wood.
“The detail in the wood is astounding,” I said. “You can see each individual minute feather that makes up the wings.”
“Sounds awesome,” Robin said.
I continued to describe the base of the pyramid, where animals, humans, saints, and angels gamboled among the trees and flowers growing up the sides of the pyramid. The apex was crowded with iconic symbols and figures. It should’ve been a train wreck, but instead it was glorious.
I was pleased that they’d taken their inspiration from photographs I’d brought back from Rosslyn Chapel outside of Edinburgh. The chapel walls and wide stone columns were famous for their intricate carvings depicting the lives of saints and sinners, musical instruments, stars, and flowers. I’d visited Rosslyn a few months back with my parents and Robin while attending the Edinburgh Book Fair.
“I had a miraculous experience in Rosslyn Chapel,” Shiva said, and began to relate what happened when she was confronted by the ghost of William Wallace.
“Mom, did I mention they sculpt with chain saws?” Robin said quietly.
Shiva blinked, then blushed. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” She laughed. “Robin has informed me that I have a tendency to bring the spotlight around to myself, so I do humbly apologize. Please go on with your little story, Suzie.”
“But I would very much enjoy hearing what William Wallace said to you,” Vinnie asked politely.
“It was nothing,” Shiva said with a wave of her hand. “Tell me all about these chain saws you use. They look so powerful and deadly. Aren’t they dangerous?”
“Yeah,” Suzie said, enjoying Shiva’s reaction. “They could cut your arm off.”
“Good heavens,” Shiva said, and shivered in horror. “And where did you find a piece of wood big enough?”
Suzie smiled with pride. “We’ve got a forest ranger pal up in Klamath who calls when she finds a good fallen tree.”
“We do not believe in using living trees,” Vinnie elaborated. “This way, we imbue the dead trees with new energy to share with the world.”
“That’s lovely,” Shiva said. “How do you—”
The doorbell rang loudly.
Shiva flinched. “What in the world?”
“Sorry,” I said, touching her arm. “That’ll be my neighbors Jeremy and Sergio. I told them to drop by if they got home early enough.”
“Oh, I’ll get the door,” Robin muttered, set her drink on the bar, and disappeared down the hall. A moment later she led them into the room and quickly introduced them both to her mother.
Jeremy took Shiva’s hand in his. “I certainly see the resemblance, but I can hardly believe you’re Robin’s mother. You are both absolutely beautiful.”
Robin caught my glance and rolled her eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. Jeremy was gushing, yes. But I could see that he meant it. And why not? It was true.
Shiva wove her arm through Jeremy’s and led him over to the window, where he could tell her in more precise detail how beautiful she was. Robin met my gaze again and we both laughed.
Sergio held out a sturdy white shopping bag. “Tonight’s dessert.”
“From your restaurant?” I said, my eyes growing bigger.
“From my home kitchen,” he said, grinning.
“Even better.” I took a quick peek into the bag. “You made flan?”
“It’s actually a thick custard, but we’re calling it flan tonight.” He waved his hand deprecatingly. “It seemed the most appropriate accompaniment to tacos.”
“You rock,” Suzie said, punching his arm.
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “Oh, sorry. Let me get you a margarita.”
“The perfect payment,” he said. “There’s whipping cream in the bag, too.”
“I think I love you.” Moving into the kitchen, I put Sergio’s bag in the fridge and pulled out the various bowls and containers of taco makings. Vinnie took charge of the margarita pitcher and filled everyone’s glasses.
“Brooklyn, you’re rubbing your neck,” Vinnie said. “Are you in pain?”
“No, no,” I insisted, and rolled my shoulders selfconsciously. “I took a long, um, walk today and must’ve tweaked something.”
“Something got tweaked,” Robin muttered, then snorted.
“Now, you’ll all be coming to the street fair tomorrow, won’t you?” Jeremy cried as he and Shiva joined us. “I go on at one o’clock, and my performance is going to wow the crowd.”
“We will be there,” Vinnie said, and turned to top off Shiva’s glass. “Are you going, Shiva?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said.
“Wonderful,” Vinnie cried. “Our friend Wingo has a booth that will feature several of our latest sculptures.”
Robin whipped around. “Are you kidding? I know Wingo. He has three of my torsos.”
Elated, Vinnie grabbed her hand and shook it. “We will be showing in the same booth. This is very exciting and should be toasted appropriately.”
“I’ll be in the buff,” Jeremy crowed. He held up his glass to clink with the others. “We’ll all be showing our best pieces.”
Sergio snorted as everyone laughed.
“You really going buck, Jeremy?” Suzie asked.
He winked at Robin. “I’ll be wearing some lovely accessories.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, placing the bowl of hot shredded beef at the far end of the bar. “Okay, vegans on the left, heathens on the right. Let’s eat.”
The next morning, Saturday, I rose early, made coffee, then took a full cup into my workshop and continued my work on the Kama Sutra. Today I concentrated on the batting used to pad the covers. I’d discovered bits of mold in the cotton material, so I would have to replace all of it after all, just to be safe.
Meanwhile, Derek spent the morning in my second bedroom, where he’d set up an office, making phone calls to England and working on some files he’d brought home. At ten, we met back at the coffeepot, both in need of a refill.
I took in Derek’s outfit as I filled our two cups, then poured a splash of cream in mine. He wore a pair of worn Levi’s that fit him to perfection, topped with a thin black cashmere sweater that was so soft, I wanted to curl up in his arms and stay there all day. As I considered making my move, Derek’s cell phone rang.