“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.