I helped Mom set the rest of the casserole dishes and salad bowls on the side table while Dad revved up the grill.
The rest of the guests arrived in quick succession. Savannah first; then my sister London, her husband, Trevor, and their twins, Chloe and Connor. Robin and Austin showed up a few minutes later, and Mom declared it was time to eat.
Even though I was close to my three sisters and happy to see them and their families, I sat with Robin. As usual, in two nanoseconds we were laughing and finishing each other’s sentences, just as we’d been doing since we were eight years old. And as soon as we thought we’d caught up on everything that had been going on in our lives since we’d last seen each other, one of us would remember something vitally important that we had to share. And we’d be laughing again.
She told me how Austin had finished building her sculpture studio and invited us to come by during the weekend to see some of her new pieces. I was so happy for her, but there was a tiny part of me that was sad. Her news put to rest any thought that she would ever move back to the city.
We had both moved to San Francisco around the same time and had lived near each other until a few months ago when her friend Alex was murdered in her Noe Valley flat. Robin hadn’t felt safe there anymore and wondered if she should move back to Dharma. And then my brother Austin finally stepped up and admitted he’d been in love with her for years. The feeling was mutual, of course. Robin had been crushing on him since third grade. Now they lived together in Austin’s home, a mountaintop cabin overlooking all of Dharma and beyond. I missed her living close by me in the city, but I was honestly thrilled that they were happy together.
I looked around for Derek and saw him chatting with Dad at the grill. They were soon joined by Austin, Trevor, and Beau, who gathered around to watch the meat cook, as men were inclined to do. I was happy my family had welcomed Derek into our world. He seemed comfortable with them, too, as if he’d always been around.
We ate like starving refugees and drank several bottles of reserve Pinot Noir and Sauvignon Blanc from the commune’s own winery. I found myself growing sleepy in the sun. “I’m ready for a nap.”
“But you’ve only had three hot dogs and two helpings of potato salad,” Robin said wryly. “You can’t quit yet.”
I rubbed my stomach. “I’m saving room for dessert.”
“Brooklyn, sweetie,” Mom called from the sliding door, “can you help me with dessert?”
Robin snickered.
“Sure, Mom,” I said, smirking at Robin. “Be right there.”
Minutes later, I came back outside with a tray loaded down with a large baking dish of apple crisp, a gallon tub of vanilla ice cream, plus bowls and spoons, and headed for the side table.
“Hello, Brooklyn, dear.”
“Oh!” I gasped and bobbled the heavy tray as the soft voice came from behind me. Turning, I smiled. “Hi, Robson.”
Robson Benedict, aka Guru Bob, reached out to steady the tray. “I surprised you, gracious. I am sorry.”
“You sure did, but it’s my own fault. I should’ve been paying better attention.”
His smile was compassionate as he took the tray from me. “Let me help you with this.”
“Thank you.” Was it obvious how discombobulated I was? Guru Bob usually had that effect on me. I think it was because he just always seemed to know what was going on inside my head. I wouldn’t go so far as to admit that he was clairvoyant, but he definitely saw things that other people didn’t.
“Shall I put it down over here?” he said, walking to the side table.
“Yes, please.” I took the serving dish of apple crisp and the ice cream off the tray and arranged them on the table. The bowls and spoons were stacked in front for people to grab easily.
Mom came running over, but skidded to a stop when she saw Guru Bob standing next to me. “Oh, Robson. Hello. I’m so glad you could make it. Would you like a hot dog or some salad? I can fix you a plate.”
“Thank you, Rebecca. I might have something later. Right now, I am helping Brooklyn serve dessert.”
“You—you are?”
“Yes, gracious, I am.”
Mom’s mouth fell open and she spluttered, “Well, of course you’re welcome to help, but, but…” Her face was turning pink. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one discombobulated by Guru Bob.
Here was the thing about Guru Bob. He called us all “gracious” because he held the stubbornly optimistic belief that people were naturally filled with grace and goodwill.
And another thing. I always called him Robson, not Guru Bob. The Guru nickname was something we kids came up with when we were insolent teenagers, but a nickname was just wrong for someone as centered and truly good as Robson.
“Thank you for your concern, Rebecca,” he said. “It is an honor to be of service to your guests.”
“You’re my guest as well, Robson.” She looked calmer now. “So whenever you’re ready, there’s still plenty of food left to enjoy.”