“It is a little sad, don’t you think? All trace of him is gone. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad they cleaned everything up. But they cleaned it up so well that there’s not even a vibe of Alex left.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” I said gently. “But that’s kind of what those guys get paid to do.”
She chuckled softly. “And I appreciate it. I guess I thought I’d walk in and feel his presence somehow. And I don’t.”
“And you wanted to?”
She thought for a moment. “No. I really didn’t. I’m just in a weird place. I’m still flipping out to think that I chose to go out with someone so duplicitous. So now shouldn’t I be questioning my choices? Shouldn’t I wonder about my feelings for Austin? Is he really the right man for me?”
I picked up a pencil and drummed it on the desk surface. “Yes, he is.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Yes,” I said. “You’ve loved him for more than half your lifetime. This isn’t an impulsive decision, Robin. It’s nothing at all like the situation with Alex. And Austin finally realizes he feels the same way. Are you really going to question that? Do you know how rare it is to find real love?”
“I guess.”
“Austin is the real thing,” I said. “Alex was a blip on the screen. A bump in the road. A misstep. A wrinkle in time.”
She laughed. “Enough with the metaphors.”
“Really? Because I have more. A leaf blowing in the wind.”
“A ship passing in the night?” she whispered.
“Um, well,” I said, and decided to shut up.
“Anyway,” she said, changing tones again, “the bedding is beautiful. I’m still in shock that you showed such good taste.”
There was the Robin I knew and loved. “Wait till you see the bill.”
“Worth it at any cost,” she said. “Thanks.”
“No worries. So, did your mom get a chance to talk to Rajiv yet?”
“They spoke last night. He’s in New York right now and won’t be in San Francisco until Saturday morning. She set up the meeting for the afternoon.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Derek.”
“Great. I think we should all be there.”
“I do, too.” I grabbed a pencil and pulled out my desk calendar. “Oh, crap-a-doodle.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We promised Jeremy we’d go to the Castro Street Fair to see his street performance.”
“That’s right.” Robin groaned. “I forgot all about it.”
“Rats.” I sighed. “I’ll tell him we can’t make it.”
“Oh, but that’s my favorite street fair,” she said. “There’s a great local sculptor who always has a booth there. And I might get some of my stuff in there, too.”
I thought about it. Truth was, I loved the Castro fair, too. All those cute boys in their leather chaps. And the food stalls were always top-notch. And Jeremy had been so excited about having us all show up to watch him perform.
“Maybe we can set up the meeting for later in the afternoon,” I said. “I think Jeremy’s on at one o’clock.”
“Yes, okay,” she said. “We can watch Jeremy, then meet Rajiv at the Cove Cafe maybe around three or four.”
The Cove was your basic American diner, but it wasn’t greasy, the waiters were great, and it was located on Castro Street. We wouldn’t have to walk too far after Jeremy’s performance.
“And Shiva will love the street fair,” Robin added. “It’ll remind her of the bazaar in Varanasi.”
“Minus the Ganges,” I said, laughing. “Okay, if she’s up for it, that would work out perfectly.”
“She’s up for anything I say she’s up for,” Robin murmured.
“It’s like that, is it?”
“Oh, yeah. She kind of flipped out once she heard what I’d gone through. She came by Austin’s place twice a day just to check up on me. It’s weird having her around, doting on me.”
“I think it’s nice that she’s worried about you.” After all the years of benign neglect, it was good to know Shiva actually cared about her daughter.
“We’ll see how long it lasts, now that we’re living in the same space for the next few days.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” I said. “Listen, Derek’s going out with clients Friday night, so I’m having a girls’ night. Margaritas and tacos. If you and your mom don’t have plans, why don’t you come over? It would be interesting to introduce Shiva to Vinnie.”
“Sounds like fun. We’ll be there.”
Tyler stared at the book. He turned it over and scanned the back cover. Then he opened the book, checked the last few pages, and leaned in close to examine the inner hinges. Finally, he closed the book and gazed up at me. “Is this my book?”
“Tyler,” his mother said, “of course it’s your book.”
“But it’s different.”
“It’s all fixed, just as you wanted,” Lisa said, and shot me a look of embarrassed confusion. “Miss Brooklyn sewed the pages back together and glued the covers so it would be like new.”