“Yes, I would like that very much.” She walked around the worktable, trailing her hand along the smooth wood counter as she took in everything. “Abraham was so proud of you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said, beaming. “I really appreciate hearing that.”
“Mom,” Robin said as she slipped off her coat, “let’s get a margarita and relax.”
“Of course.” Shiva stared at the shelves as she circled the table.
“Mom?”
“What?” She blinked, then smiled. “Yes. Margaritas. Goodness, what are we waiting for?”
“Let me hang up your coats,” I said. “Then we can go to the kitchen.”
“I love this room,” Shiva said as I opened the closet door and hung up their coats. “So much creativity. I can feel your energy in here. What are in those cupboards up there? Oh, is this Rajiv’s Kama Sutra? Oh, my.”
I turned in time to see that she’d lifted the white cloth to peek underneath. Wincing, I said, “I’m sorry it’s in pieces, but that’s the best way to clean and resew it. It’ll be as good as new when I’m finished; I promise.”
She nodded but seemed not to have heard me as she stared at the book.
I’d always tried to avoid having my book-loving clients observe my work or witness their property in this broken condition. It was stressful seeing their favorite book taken apart and strewn out over my table. I liked to compare it to seeing a loved one in surgery, although I supposed that was a slight exaggeration. Still, the point was that, intellectually, you might understand what was happening, but in reality, you just didn’t want to have to see it with your own eyes.
Shiva continued to gape in rapt fascination. She touched the red leather cover tentatively, felt the padding, then started to reach for one of the pages.
“Mom,” Robin said, jerking her head toward my living area, “Margaritaville is this way.”
“All right, dear.” She joined us and laughed gaily. “I don’t believe I’ve had a margarita in at least three or four years. I think my mouth is watering.”
“How did you ever last that long?” I asked.
She laughed again. “I have no idea.”
“Oh, here’s Pookie,” Robin said as she entered the living room. “Hello, my feline friend.”
Pookie wrapped her body around Robin’s legs and purred in happiness. Apparently, I remained the one human being in the world Pookie had no use for at all.
“She likes you a lot,” I said with a sigh.
“That’s because I love her,” Robin crooned, and lifted the cat onto her shoulder. “She took good care of me.”
“Robin, what are you doing?” Shiva said. “You don’t like cats.”
“I do now,” Robin said, her voice muffled by Pookie’s fur in her face.
“My goodness, you never wanted a cat,” Shiva said, looking confused. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”
I couldn’t blame Shiva for her reaction. It was sort of a shock to me, too. Robin had turned into a cat person in her short time living here with me and Derek and Pookie.
While Robin was staying here, Pookie had seemed to recognize that she was in pain. The cat had comforted her, curling up on the couch next to her and sleeping in the guest room with her. I loved the cat for her natural empathy, even if she barely acknowledged to me.
“Do you think you’ll get a cat now?” I asked her as I took the pitcher of margaritas out of the fridge and filled three salt-rimmed glasses.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, grinning at the irony. It used to be that whenever one of us broke up with a boyfriend, we would tease each other about buying a cat to keep us company. Now it seemed at least one of us was seriously considering the idea.
There was a knock at the door. “That should be Suzie and Vinnie. Be right back.”
“Hello, Brooklyn,” Vinnie said when I opened the door. They walked in with armfuls of bags that they dumped on the kitchen bar.
I looked inside the bags. “What’s all this?”
“Wine and some Thai food leftovers for you,” Vinnie whispered, pointing out the appropriate bags. “And Suzie made guacamole for tonight.”
“Ooh, yummy,” I said, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of those leftovers.
“And I brought you a poultice for your bad hip.”
Robin frowned. “You have a bad hip?”
“No.”
“She was limping earlier,” Suzie said.
“Really?” Robin said, her lips quivering as she tried not to guffaw.
I ignored her and turned to my neighbors. “Do you both want margaritas?”
Suzie grinned. “Does a polar bear shi-”
“Shush, Suzie, you are not to be uncouth,” Vinnie said. “Brooklyn has company.”
“Company?” Suzie spread her arms wide. “Well, what am I, chopped liver?”
“She is in a state,” Vinnie said, rolling her eyes.
Robin grinned. “Suzie and Vinnie, this is my mother, Shiva Quinn.”
“Oh, hell, sorry,” Suzie said, slapping her forehead. “I’m feeling a little frisky tonight.” She reached out to give Shiva’s hand a rousing shake. “Vinnie’s right; I’m a toad. But it’s great to meet you. Robin’s world-class.”
“Thank you,” Shiva said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “It’s lovely to meet you, too.”
Vinnie nodded her head respectfully. “I am Vinamra Patel, and I am so pleased to meet you. We love your daughter very much.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Shiva said. “You’re Indian.”
“Yes, madam.”
Shiva touched her chest with both hands. “I live in Varanasi.”
Vinnie smiled as she nodded again. “Yes, Robin has told us all about you and your beautiful home overlooking the Ghats.”
Shiva blinked, then whipped around to find Robin. “You never told me you had Indian friends.”
“I’m sure I mentioned Vinnie and Suzie.”
“But I thought Vinnie was a… Never mind. Really, Robin, you should’ve told me.” She turned back and smiled. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Vinamra.”
Vinnie’s laugh was melodic. “Please call me Vinnie. I’m so looking forward to hearing about your wonderful life in my homeland.”
“I would love to share some of my memories with you.”
I poured two more margaritas and passed all the glasses across the bar. “Here you go.”
“Awesome,” Suzie said, and took care of passing the other drink to Vinnie, who sat at the dining table with Pookie on her lap. Shiva sat next to her and they chatted quietly. I grabbed my own drink and walked around the bar to join the group in the dining area.
“Cheers and welcome,” I said, and we all clinked glasses and sipped. I looked at Suzie. “So, why are you feeling so frisky?”
“Oh, dude, wait’ll you hear.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Vinnie.
“Wait. Do I really want to know?”
“Yes.” Vinnie laughed again. “Suzie and I have taken the grand prize in the Stanislaus County wood arts festival.”
“Hey, that’s fantastic,” Robin said, and toasted them with her glass.
“Wow, congratulations.” I set my drink on the dining room table and gave first Suzie, then Vinnie a big hug. “That’s wonderful. Was this for the flying pyramid?”
“Yes.”
“Told you that piece was a winner,” Suzie gloated with glee.
“Congratulations,” Shiva said politely.
Vinnie smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“What is it you do?” Shiva asked a moment later.
Robin grinned. “Chain-saw sculptures, Mom.”
“Oh, my.”
As I moved back into the kitchen to grab the bowls I’d piled high with chips, salsa, and Suzie’s guacamole, I described the sculpture to Robin and Shiva: a massive wooden pyramid with wings, eight feet tall and nearly as wide, carved from one piece of wood.
“The detail in the wood is astounding,” I said. “You can see each individual minute feather that makes up the wings.”