“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.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He really was. I’m feeling very sappy about the whole experience.” She even shook her head to wipe the sloppy smile off her face, but it was useless. “Anyway, we had a great conversation and found out we actually have a lot in common. He’s wonderful; you’ll see. We’re going out tomorrow night.”
I stared at her in surprise. “Oh, no, you’re blushing. You never blush. You really like him.”
“Give me a break.” She rolled her eyes. “I blush sometimes. But yeah, I like him.”
Disconcerted, I glanced down at the Kama Sutra and decided that further inspection could wait. I closed the book and looked up at Robin. “Okay, he sounds great, but I have to ask why you’re seeing Mr. Wonderful when you’re in love with my brother.”
Her lips curved into a frown. “Austin hasn’t made any moves in my direction lately.”
I frowned, too. “Well, it’s not like you live in the same neighborhood anymore. He’s going to have to make an effort to come after you.”
“Yes, he is,” she said pensively. “Look, he traveled and partied for years and now he’s ready to settle down back home in Dharma and run the winery. But I’m not ready to do that yet. Not that he’s asked me to.”
I sighed. “I don’t want my brother to blow this.”
“I don’t want him to, either.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly as she added, “But I’m not going to sit at home waiting for the phone to ring.”
I wanted to kick my brother sometimes. Robin had been in love with Austin since grammar school, but he had always considered her too young for him. That had all changed a few years ago, when he finally settled down in Dharma and realized that Robin was perfect for him. That was right around the time she moved to San Francisco and was beginning to be recognized as a talented sculptor and artist.
But instead of pressing Robin to move her work to Dharma and live with him, Austin had decided to back off and give her space to have fun and enjoy her life as he had been doing all those years before he moved back home. Now, every time she suggested that she might come back to Dharma, he brushed her off, telling her she should experience the world and live every moment to the fullest.
With all the mixed signals, Robin had decided to let Austin make the next move. But if he didn’t move soon, he would lose her.
Timing was everything, as they say.
She looked like she could use a hug, so I jumped off the chair and wrapped my arms around her. “You know I love you, no matter what happens. So I hope you have a good time with Mr. Wonderful.”
“Yoo-hoo!”
We both jolted in surprise. I turned and saw my neighbors, Jeremy and Sergio, poking their heads through my open door. I guessed I hadn’t locked it earlier.
“Hi, guys,” I said. “Come on in. You remember Robin, right?”
“Of course,” Jeremy said, waving both of his hands at us as he walked in.
Sergio gave me a hug, then said, “Hi, Robin.” Then he handed me a small white paper bag. “I brought you some cookies from the restaurant.”
My eyes widened as I opened the bag. “You brought cookies? Did you make them yourself?”
“Of course,” he said modestly. Sergio was a world-class chef whose pastries and desserts were the stuff of dreams.
“Thank you,” I whispered, overcome by the sight of the half dozen tiny, chocolate-laden, delicate puff-pastry circles all bundled up in plastic wrap. In a separate packet were fragile pastel-colored macaroons. I opened it up and handed one to Robin, who reverently placed it on the tip of her tongue and closed her eyes.
“We’re sorry to bug you,” Jeremy said, pacing around my workroom, staring at the shelves, “but I’m preparing for my performance-art debut at the Castro Street Fair in a couple weeks and I’m on the hunt for accessories. Do you have a boa or any girlie hats or big jewelry?”
“Big jewelry isn’t really my style,” I said, “but I probably have a hat you could use.”
“I have lots of pretty things at home,” Robin said, wiping a tiny cookie crumb from her lips.
“Your stuff is probably too nice for what he wants,” Sergio said, then whispered, “He’s presenting an homage to the homeless.”
“Yeah, the tackier, the better,” Jeremy said with a grin. “Ooh, what’s this?” He grabbed the funky Indian scarf and wrapped it around his neck. “Is it me?”
“It’s totally you,” Robin said.
“I love it,” he said, holding the material out and studying it. “It’s so scruffy.”
Sergio nodded in approval. “Very ethnic, with a touch of grunge.”
“It’s yours if you want it,” she said.
“And I have other stuff you can look at,” I added.
“No, this is perfect. Shabby but colorful.” Jeremy scurried over to the small mirror hanging near the front door and tossed the length of the scarf back and forth and over his head. “I love the sparkly beads.”
“Take it,” Robin insisted. “Consider it an even trade for the cookies. Besides, I’ll never wear it. My mother is insane to think I would.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy cried, and clapped his hands. “I want you both to be there. It’s two weeks from tomorrow. Write it in your calendar.”
“I love the Castro Street Fair,” Robin said. “I go every year.”
I got up and found a pencil, then wrote the event in my office calendar. In one of the cabinet drawers I found a clean white cotton cloth, and as I wrapped the Kama Sutra up to protect it, I asked, “Would you guys like a glass of wine?”
The men exchanged a look; then Jeremy waved his hand with indifference. “Only if you insist.”
“I’ll get the wine,” Robin said, laughing. “You show them your sexy new book.”
“You have a sexy book?” Sergio said, moving closer to the worktable. He was fascinated with my bookbinding work. I unwrapped the cloth and pushed the book his way.
“Is this it?” He touched the spine of the Kama Sutra.
“Yes, and wait till you see it,” I said, excited all over again. I opened the book and turned to the page Robin and I had been peeking at earlier.
Jeremy began to squeal and slapped my arm. “You naughty girl.”
“This is fantastic,” Sergio said in awe, as he carefully ran a finger over the outer edges of the page.
“I know. I can’t wait to take it apart.”
“Ooh, that does sound exciting. Maybe I should sign up for that bookbinding class you teach after all.”
Later that night, I read the letter of authorization from Shiva’s friend Rajiv Mizra. In the same envelope, he’d included the original sale document from the Mumbai bookseller who sold him the Kama Sutra. The document indicated that the book, though undated, was thought to have been made in France between 1840 and 1880. That would be easy enough to verify once I’d examined the ink and paper and gilding style. Rajiv had paid 1,801,200 rupees back in 1997. I had no idea how much that was in U.S. dollars. I would calculate it in the morning, but I had no doubt the book would be worth much more in today’s market.
In his friendly note, Rajiv gave me full authority to do whatever it took to increase the book’s value. He also included his e-mail address in case I had any questions.
I smiled as I tucked the letter and documentation back into the envelope. The only question I had at this point was, How soon could I get my hands on that incredible book?
The following night, Derek returned from his Kuala Lumpur trip. Ever since he moved in, I’d been experimenting with cooking, so I made pasta with a creamy tomato vodka sauce, and we drank an Etude pinot noir I’d been saving for a special occasion. Our relationship was new enough that Derek’s coming home after a short trip definitely
