Round Robin by Joseph Flynn Page A

videocam?” Robin asked.
    “What for?” Nancy asked, the mistrust clear in her voice now.
    Robin told her sister about Tone and his cameraman, and outlined their previous skirmishes.
    “I want to have my own record of any interview Ant-knee does with me,” Robin said. “It occurred to me that tapes might be edited.”
    In fact, she knew this because Nancy was the only person she’d ever heard of who edited her home videos. Just as she put only the creme de la creme of still photos in her family albums.
    “So you want me to shoot this confrontation for you?” Nancy asked.
    “And edit it, if necessary.”
    Nancy considered the idea for a moment.
    “Okay. I’ll do it.”
    “Great. The way we’ll do it is, I’ll excuse myself to use the ladies’ room as soon as Ant-Knee shows up. I’ll give you a call from the kitchen and reappear when Mimi tells me you’ve arrived.”
    Nancy laughed, “Sounds good.” Then she regained her focus. “Robin, why are you letting me help you?”
    “You’re my sister.”
    “What’s the real reason?”
    “You’re so suspicious, Nancy. I even baked a plate of fresh, warm strudel to share with you for all your help. But maybe I should just eat it myself and take a cab to work.”
    Nancy didn’t have many weaknesses when it came to food. She could take or leave most things. Mostly she left them. But her Achilles’s heel, the one temptation she really had to battle was freshly baked pastry. Especially the first thing in the morning.
    “Don’t you dare eat it yourself,” Nancy said. “I’ll be right over.”
     
    Nancy came, she ate, she defeated Robin utterly. That damn self-control of hers, the piece of strudel she cut for herself wasn’t big enough to bait a mousetrap. Hardly a useful sampling to see if it was poisoned. Still, Nancy seemed to get as much enjoyment out of the tiny crumb as if she’d gobbled the whole plate. Robin half-expected her to start rolling on the floor in ecstasy.
    For the first time, Robin got an insight into the success of her sister’s marriage. If Nancy could get so much out of so little, she must have made Charlie feel like a god every time they hit the sack.
    “Robin, that was wonderful,” Nancy said. “I didn’t know you were such an incredible baker. You call me any time you make that strudel.”
    “Yeah, I’ll do that. Bake you a plate, it’ll last all year.”
    Nancy smiled and turned in profile.
    “Well, I do have to watch my figure.”
    It was a dig, but Robin let it go. She was depending on Nancy for help today.
    “You know what you ought to do?” Nancy asked.
    “What?”
    “Take that strudel to work. You could sell it at the deli, I’m not kidding.”
    Robin hated to admit it, but the notion struck her as a good idea. She’d wait and see if Nancy got sick on the drive over. If she didn’t, Robin could cut the pastry into little free samples and see how the public tolerated it. Then if there were something wrong with the stuff, maybe Ant-knee would eat a slice and get diarrhea or something.
    Wouldn’t that be fun to capture on videotape?
    “You know,” Robin said, “I think you’ve got something there.”
    Nancy nodded and smiled and licked her lips.
    “Maybe if I do an extra twenty minutes on the Stairmaster today you could save me another little piece?”
    “Be happy to,” Robin said.
     
    Nancy took Robin to work, and she didn’t start heaving or show any other signs of distress. Since Tone and his lensman weren’t laying in wait when they arrived, Nancy left, saying she’d be at her office until Robin called.
    Feeling just a little uneasy, Robin put out the strudel on the counter next to the cash register. She’d cut the pastry into small squares and made a sign: Free samples. Take just one. Even having cooled on the way over to the deli, the stuff still smelled wonderful.
    “What’s this?” Mimi asked, walking over.
    “Just a little something I brought in. Homemade strudel. Nancy thought maybe we