Round Robin (23 page)

“I knocked off work early to go to a doctor’s check-up with my dad,” she said. Then she added with a pleased tone, “We’re both doing better. Then I was in here when a FedEx guy came to the door, and before I could come back in, the phone upstairs rang. That’s why the door was open.”

“This is a great place, Robin,” David said.

“Thanks.”

The kid was still staring at her. What the hell was she trying to see?

Robin said, “I was kind of surprised when I came out of my place and heard voices speaking German down here.”

“We were just chatting,” David said.

“Yeah. Well, with all the German chat going on around me these days, I thought I better do something about it.”

“What do you mean?” Bianca asked, suddenly jarred out of her inspection of Robin’s face.

“What I mean is, this is what the FedEx guy brought.”

She held a book up for them both to see: an English-German primer.

Nancy had suggested the idea to her.

The two young people left her then, David with a wave, Bianca with a curtsy.

Robin sat in her park and set about becoming fluent in a new language.

The Christmas season was a relatively slow time at Screaming Mimi’s. People made their annual stab at peace on earth, goodwill toward men. In that frame of mind, they weren’t inclined to come into a place where hurling insults was the order of the day. Still, there were a few determined grinches who kept the spirit of invective alive.

One sharp-eyed wiseguy noticed the increasing musculature of Robin’s upper body and asked if she intended to have “Mother” tattooed on her bicep.

Her mother being a touchy subject with Robin, she made a determined effort to keep both her voice and visage mild. She did however pick up her whetstone, and with smooth, hissing strokes began to put a surgical edge on her carving knife.

“Funny thing about weight training,” she told the wise guy. “The stronger a woman gets — stronger like a guy, you know — the more she can sometimes find herself thinking like a guy. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Robin kept the knife sliding over the stone with a serpentine sibilance.

The wise guy was hypnotized watching it.

“You say to yourself,” Robin said, “I don’t have to take any crap offa anybody.”

Robin smiled vaguely at the wise guy, her eyes just a little crazy.

“Of course, maybe that’s just the effects of all those steroids. ‘Roid rage, you know. They say it can make you psychotic. Affect your memory, too. Like right now, what was it you just asked me?”

Robin stopped sharpening the knife and held it point up.

The wise guy had visions of being carved like a Christmas turkey.

“Uh ... nothing. I just remembered some shopping I gotta do. I’ll eat later. Merry Christmas.”

He had a hard time not running out of the deli.

Mimi came over wearing a frown.

She said, “If not the letter, that violated the spirit of the Robert DeNiro rule.”

“People shouldn’t talk about other people’s mothers,” Robin replied.

The thing that most bothered Robin about her mother was that this year she was taking her father away from her. Every Christmas, Patty Phinney invited Nancy and her family out to dinner at some fancy restaurant, and since Charlie’s parents had passed away and they had nowhere else to go, they always accepted. Dan Phinney and Robin had never been invited to this annual feast and that had always been fine with them. They always ate Christmas dinner at Robin’s.

Except that this year, Patty had invited Dan — and he had accepted!

With their divorce only a few weeks from becoming final Robin’s parents were ending decades of marriage and years of estrangement with a blossoming new friendship.

Robin didn’t know if she could stand it.

Chapter 21

Robin and Nancy exchanged their Christmas gifts late on the afternoon of the twenty-fourth in the living room of Robin’s house.

Robin gave Nancy a midnight blue cashmere sweater. With Nancy’s hair and eyes and figure, the sweater would look gorgeous on her. Robin didn’t even mind that it cost five times more than she ever would have spent on herself. Nancy was always there for her, she’d come through for Robin again this year when she’d needed her ... and Robin still got a vicarious thrill out of seeing how good her “big” sister looked when she wore beautiful clothes.

Nancy knew how Robin felt.

She gave her a hug and a kiss.

“My turn,” Nancy said. She took two packages out of a shopping bag and handed the smaller to Robin. “This one first.”

Robin carefully undid the wrapping paper and looked at the name on the box.

“Cartier? Are you kidding me? Are we getting engaged, or something?”

“Just open the box, Robin.”

She did, and found a necklace with a diamond big enough to make her eyes pop.

“Nancy! It’s beautiful, but what the heck am I supposed to do with it? This is something you should wear. Here, you keep it.”

Nancy took the necklace, without offense, and then deftly slipped it around Robin’s neck and hooked it in place. Robin put her hand over it, gently examined the big stone with her fingertips.

“It does feel nice,” she said, “so cool and smooth and—”

“Just what you deserve. Go look at yourself.”

Robin got up from the living room sofa where they sat and walked into the bathroom. Nancy watched her examine herself in the vanity mirror. Robin turned toward her sister.

“Goes well with gray flannel,” she said.

Robin was wearing a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, practical for work or workouts.

“Yeah, well, why don’t you come over here and see what else I got you?”

Robin returned to the sofa, warily eyeing the box Nancy held on her lap.

“I hope it’s not a mink. I wouldn’t want the animal rights people after me.”

“Said the woman who serves cold cuts all day long. Just open the box, will you?”

Robin did, as if it was booby-trapped. Which metaphorically it was.

“Victoria’s Secret? You got me a lingerie catalogue?”

“There’s a five hundred dollar gift certificate inside.”

A sour smile formed on Robin’s face.

“You really think they make French silk bikini drawers in my size? Sears, that’s where I shop. That’s who sells underwear for the likes of me.”

Nancy regarded her sister coolly.

“If you haven’t shopped lately, I’ll bet your underwear is loose on you.”

“What?” Robin said, wondering how Nancy knew that.

“I’ve been watching you. Your workouts are working. Your backside is tighter and so is your tummy.”

Robin was agog.

“You’ve been looking at my ass?”

“And your bust-line is higher, too. More pectoral support.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it. You’re changing, and for the better. You can find some nice things in that catalogue right now. Things that would go very nicely with your new necklace.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just parade around in my undies and diamonds for all my boy—” Then the realization of what Nancy intended hit Robin like a clap of thunder. “You ... you think ... Manfred ... and me ... we’re ... ”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“No!” Robin shook her head. “No, no, no!”

“That wasn’t the impression I got from someone who should know.”

“Who?”

The light dawned. “That little brat.”

“So, it’s true?”

“No, it isn’t.”

With more than a little mortification, Robin explained that Bianca had misinterpreted the grunts and groans of one of Robin’s workouts as something else. Now, Robin wished that she’d denied that she’d been having sex with Manfred to the little imp before the kid had blabbed her misconception to everyone in town.

“Well, that’s a pity,” Nancy said. “But there’s still hope.”

“For what?”

“That you will have sex with Manfred. The two of you are perfect for each other.”

Robin sat mute.

“What, no ringing denial?” Nancy smirked, before she continued in a mock baritone. “Your honor, the defendant is implicated by her silence.”

“Go suck an eggnog,” Robin said.

She got up and walked off to the kitchen. Nancy followed.

“Robin, there’s nothing wrong with liking a man. Especially one who’s good and strong and kind. As you pointed out to me one time, there aren’t many like that around. So when you’ve got one living right under your own roof, hey, put on your baubles and bangles and make your move. Because if you don’t, you never know when he might be on his way.”

Robin looked away from Nancy.

Nancy moved closer and took her hand.

“Robin, you’re stronger now. A
lot
stronger. You don’t have to worry about being hurt again, and Manfred’s not the type to hurt you, anyway.”

Without turning toward Nancy, Robin said, “I might ... I might, except ... ”

“Except what?”

“I don’t like that kid. And she’s everything to him.” Robin turned toward her sister. “Isn’t she?”

Nancy shook her head.

“She’s a lot to him, more than most kids are to their parents. But take it from me, because I’ve been watching him, too, the part that the kid isn’t, you are.”

Robin walked back into the living room and stared sightlessly at the lights twinkling on her Christmas tree. Nancy was right behind her.

Robin said, “It’s ironic, isn’t it, a damn laugh riot, that a kid should come between me and a man?”

Nancy shook her head.

“It’s ironic only if you let it be. Work it out. She’s a kid. How hard can it be?”

“You see her all the time, too. You tell me how hard.”

“Okay, it won’t be easy. But tell me anything worthwhile that ever is.”

Nancy kissed Robin’s cheek and walked over to a shopping bag that Robin had placed by the front door. In it were several gift-wrapped boxes.

“These are for Charlie and the boys?”

“And Dad,” Robin said. “They all have name tags on them.”

“Robin, don’t spend Christmas alone. Admit it, at least to yourself, that you’d like to share your life with Manfred. Start tonight. You’ll find a way to work things out.”

Robin didn’t have to go to Manfred. He came to her apartment just after dusk wearing a beautifully cut blue suit. He was groomed like
GQ
and
Muscle and Fitness
were doing a combined holiday issue and he was the cover boy. He came bearing gifts, and the only thing Robin had in her hand was the doorknob. She managed to find the grace to invite him in, and poked her head out into the hallway, wondering where the kid was.

Manfred knew who she was looking for.

“Bianca is downstairs. She is getting dressed for Christmas mass tonight.”

Robin smiled briefly.

“Going to church, that’s nice.”

Manfred set his packages down on the dining room table.

“Brother Damian asked me to extend his invitation for you to join us. He said God always likes a full house for his Son’s birthday.”

Robin smiled again, but shook her head.

“Thanks but it’s not for me.”

“We have reserved, front-row seats.”

“Sorry,” Robin said.

Manfred took a deep breath and spent a moment contemplating the shine on his shoes. When he looked up all the air of light banter had left him and he appeared as somber as Robin had ever seen him.

“Bitte.
It would mean a great deal to me if you joined us tonight ... this may be the only chance I ever have for such a moment.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It has to do with my Christmas gift to Bianca,” Manfred said cryptically.

Robin didn’t know how to respond to that, and apparently she remained mute for too long.

Manfred said, “I am sorry. I should not try to impose. Here are your gifts.” He gestured to the packages on the table. “I will leave you now so you may open them at your leisure.”

He bowed and left.

Robin watch him close the door softly behind him and then she looked at the gifts. She opened the larger one first. It was a chocolate torte. Homemade. Beautiful. Mouth watering. She opened the smaller package next, hoping to find neither jewelry nor lingerie. She didn’t. She found a pair of leather workout gloves. The tag that came with them said they were of Olympic quality. The same kind the last three gold medalists in power lifting wore when they trained.

Robin was waiting in the vestibule when Manfred and Bianca stepped out of their apartment. She was wearing the only dress she had, a summer weight cotton frock that had been hanging in her closet since she’d worn it to her father’s retirement party. It was ridiculously skimpy to wear on a night when the temperature already had fallen to ten degrees and was far from hitting bottom, but at least it was green to go with the season. So was the ski parka that Robin wore over it to keep from freezing to death entirely. On her feet she had the black Reebok cross-trainers that she wore to work, the dressiest shoes she owned.

Her hair was washed and combed, but it hadn’t been professionally cut since the Carter administration, so there wasn’t much she could do there. Her face was scrubbed, but she didn’t have any make-up to apply to it. She wore no ring or watch or bracelet ...

But around her neck, in a brilliant rebuke to the rest of her slapdash ensemble, Robin wore her new diamond necklace.

Not that it was enough to keep Bianca from rolling her eyes at the sight of Robin.

Manfred’s reaction was just the opposite: his eyes sparkled like the diamond he beheld. Then he asked Robin if he might take her jacket off. She didn’t know where he was going with that, but she allowed it. He tossed the parka down into his apartment, and then he took off the beautiful black wool overcoat he had on and draped it around Robin’s shoulders. The effect was magical, transforming. The huge, elegant coat covered her like a cape from shoulder to toe, gaping dramatically at the throat to reveal her necklace.

Robin had never felt so warm, secure, or lovely in her life.

Manfred beamed at her.

Bianca ground her teeth, as no one was presently looking her way.

Manfred said, “If you ladies will please wait here, I will bring the car around.”

Without his coat, Manfred stepped out into a blast of cold air that he never felt.

Robin turned and looked at the kid.

Bianca, too, had been transformed from what she’d been only two months earlier. Her hair had grown out to its natural chestnut brown, and Nancy had taken her to have it styled in a pixie cut. She was still lean, but her father’s cooking had taken away the stick-figure angularity she’d once possessed. The clothes she wore would have suited a little princess not a punk rocker. She didn’t seem as feral as she had at first, but there was still cunning behind those big blue eyes.

Bianca, as if acknowledging this assessment, smiled at Robin.

And curtsied.

Robin sat next to Brother Damian at Mass; Bianca made sure that she had her father between her and Robin. Having asked and found out that Robin wasn’t a Catholic, Brother Damian kept up a running, whispered narration as to the significance of each step of the service. He did so without being the least bit preachy. On the contrary, his spiel had a good deal of humor and even self-mocking irreverence. Robin enjoyed his performance, thinking of him as a cross between Robin Williams and Alistair Cooke.