“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.
“Who’s calling you on a Saturday morning?” I asked, feeling a little grumpy about the distraction.