It was a book. The most exquisite jeweled book I’d ever seen. And possibly the oldest. It was large, about twelve inches tall by nine inches wide, and almost three inches thick. I suppressed the urge to whip out my metal ruler.
The heavily padded leather binding was decorated with intricate gilding and precious gems. Teardropshaped rubies were affixed to each corner. Small, round sapphires lined the circular center, where a gilded peacock spread its tail feathers. Tiny diamonds, emeralds, and rubies were encrusted in the feathers. The thickly gilded borders of the cover and turnins were reminiscent of the patterns used by royal French bookbinders of the eighteenth century. Some of the gold had flaked off and the red leather was rubbed and faded in spots.
“Peacocks are the national bird of India,” Robin said. “Did you know that?”
“I had no idea.” I picked up the book and studied the foredge. With the book closed, the pages were deckled, or untrimmed, for a ragged effect. I could tell that the paper itself was thick vellum.
I checked the spine. It read, Vatsyayana. I looked at Robin. “What is this?”
“Open it and find out.”
“I’m almost afraid.” But I lifted the front cover and turned to the title page. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“The Kama Sutra?”
“Yes.” Robin grinned.
“From your mother?”
Now she laughed. “It actually belongs to one of Mom’s friends who’s been wanting to have it refurbished for a long time. Mom insisted there was no one better for the job than you.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“I thought so.” Robin sipped her wine as she watched me ogle the book.
“Who’s her friend?” I asked.
“His name is Rajiv Mizra and she’s known him forever. Nice man. Wealthier than sin, naturally, or why would Mom hang out with him? I think he’s been in love with her for ages, but she always says they’re just good friends.”
“Very interesting.”
“Yeah, I wonder if maybe they’ll get together eventually. Anyway, he wrote a letter of authorization and tucked it inside the book. That’s to let you know he’s consented to let you do whatever is necessary to make it sparkle and shine. So, you think you can clean it up?”
“I can take it apart?”
She laughed. “I guess, but you don’t have to sound so excited about it.”
“Are you serious? I live for that.”
“Good times.” She took another sip of wine.
“It is for me.” I stroked the corded spine, counting the ribs.
“Once it’s cleaned up, they’d also like you to have it appraised.”
“Sure.” Opening the cover, I studied the dentelles, the lacy patterns of gold that were worked into the leather borders. Some dentelles were so intricate and unique, they were as good as a bookbinder’s signature. I couldn’t wait to study this pattern more closely. “I wonder why your mom recommended me to do the work.”
“Apparently, Abraham visited her a few years ago and talked you up.”
“Really?” I smiled softly. “Isn’t that nice?” Abraham had been my bookbinding teacher for years. He’d died a few months back and I still missed him every day. I turned another page with care, unwilling to disturb the binding too much. The book more than one hundred years old, and I was amazed to see that it was written in French.
I turned to a page near the middle of the book and saw a hand-painted illustration of a couple having sex in a most fascinating style. I closed it quickly. Then I couldn’t help but sneak another peek.
“Wow, it’s painted by hand,” I said after clearing my throat. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Yeah, it’s all about the strokes.” She snickered. “Paint strokes, I mean. Beautiful.”
We both began to giggle. It must’ve been the wine.
Robin let out a deep breath. “Well, hey, speaking of sex . . .”
“Were we?”
She laughed. “Sort of.” She waved her hands as if to get rid of that thought. “And I’m not talking about the sex you’re having. It’s about me. I met a man.”
“Oh.” That got my attention. “In India?”
“No. Here in San Francisco, just last night. I was on my way home from the airport and I was starving, so I stopped at Kasa to get some food to go. He came in right after me, so we were both waiting for our orders and struck up a conversation.”
“You went to Kasa after coming back from India?”
She laughed again. Kasa was part of a small, local chain of good Indian restaurants. “I still had a taste for the food. But that’s not important just now.”
“You’re right. So who is this guy?”
“He’s . . .” She looked baffled. “He’s . . . wonderful.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “What’s his name?”
“Alex.” She smiled dreamily. “He’s an engineer. Can you believe it? He was born in the Ukraine, but he’s lived here forever. His full name is Alexei Mikhail Pavlenko. Isn’t that cute? He’s great. Really handsome and funny. And smart.”
“You found out all that while waiting for to-go food?”
“We ended up grabbing a table and eating there together. It was his idea. He said he didn’t want to be a ship passing in the night, never to see me again.”