Page 11 of The Irresistible Distraction

I nod, knowing Vera’s right. Seba’s been moodier and angrier for months, but he won’t explain why. If he was closer to his teenage years I’d blame hormones, but as it is . . .

We both pause at the table and I reach for her hand. “And now you’re leaving for two months.”

“Don’t let him drive you insane while I’m gone.”

“Too late. Drove by the insane stop sign long ago, now enjoying the view on the way down the Cliffs of Insanity.”

She pats my hand before we both move into the kitchen to fill cups with water. “Brody arrives next week. Tuesday, maybe Monday. I’ll walk him through everything beforehand, but he’s promised to do all the Sebastian-sitting and driving I normally do.”

“You should be planning your big trip, not worrying about me and Seba.” I wait for her to put down the glasses before I reach over and begin massaging her hand. It’s something I’ve taught my son to do as well, because it helps Vera’s arthritis and is one of the few forms of gratitude the older woman accepts.

“The trip’s completely planned, which was part of Brody’s point.” She sighs as she gives me her other hand to massage, closing her eyes as she directs me to the pain points. “I’m hoping it’ll be nice for Sebastian to have another guy to talk to.”

“He has Tyler, his calls with Jesse.” My tone is defensive, my apology immediate. “I’m sorry. I truly appreciate that your nephew’s coming to help. But I’m anxious about . . . Sebastian and strangers.”

Particularly because I feel trapped, without any other realistic options. Maggie’s having a baby, which (understandably) ties up her and Tyler. I haven’t kept in close enough contact with anyone else from my high school days to ask for a favor of this level, and if I hire anyone within the same zip code, Adeline and Arthur will hear about it and offer to help with Sebastian.

And I definitely don’t want to have that particular fight with Jesse, Adeline, and Arthur.

Because how would I explain, politely, reasonably, that I don’t want to coordinate with or speak to Adeline and Arthur on a daily basis? That I don’t trust my former in-laws to have that level of interaction with Sebastian? And that yes, I would choose a total stranger Vera’s vouched for over Jesse’s parents?

“Brody won’t . . . flake out, right?”

Vera laughs and pulls her painted shawl more tightly around her shoulders, squeezing my hands to let me know I can stop massaging. In all the time I’ve known her, Vera’s style has remained the same: big maxi dresses, loud painted shawls she designs herself, endless bracelets that are a combination of ones students and friends have made or bought for her, and permed hair that is voluminous and multicolored. She runs her arthritis-ridden hand through those curls now, her smile more relaxed now that I’ve eased some of her pain. “No. Whatever gave you that impression?”

“You?” Vera laughs while I continue. “Yeah. Definitely you, Vera. Every Brody story you’ve ever told involves some extravagant new hobby or purchase, a new model girlfriend, Instagram influencer, or destination wedding engagement fiasco. ”

“He’s been engaged once. They separated amicably, and he let his ex have the honeymoon he’d paid for.”

“I’m not doubting his generosity. I’m wondering about the reliability of a guy who spends more time gallivanting around the world than working. Every story you’ve ever told me makes him sound very unserious.”

“Brody’s not unserious so much as he’s never had to . . . try. He’s not the most introspective guy I’ve ever known, but this will be good for him, a vacation from his normal life, time for him to reevaluate.”

I smile for a moment, thinking of Sexy Tourist’s words from earlier this afternoon. That is, after all, what tourists come to Lake Arrowhead for. Distraction. A break from their normal. “And you think babysitting my son will do that?”

“Don’t forget my very well-behaved canines.” She reaches down to scratch at Spock’s neck, pushing Kirk’s head away from the table. “But yes, Brody’s always up for a new adventure.” Vera uses her head to direct my attention to a freshly developed stack of pictures I’ve yet to look through. “You’re going to have to do those yourself while I’m gone.”

“Counteroffer: I could focus on perfecting the cookies and pause the photography.”

I flip through what Vera’s developed for me: portraits of Tyler and Sebastian, a couple of candid shots I took of Vera, a series from Maggie’s belated baby shower, some pure nature shots, and of course, my attempt at gastroporn, trying to make our burgers look enticing enough to attract new customers.

“It’s your best batch yet,” Vera tells me, signaling to Sebastian that it’s time to take off his headphones and eat.

“Says my super-believable former high school art teacher.”

“I’m unbiased when it comes to art.”

I look pointedly at the salad bowl she’s using, which has been so layered with poorly mixed paints it’s unclear whether there was ever any intended design.

She shrugs when she sees the direction of my gaze. “You know how I feel about abandoned art. And your pictures, unlike Harvey Christianson’s bowl, are truly lovely.”

It doesn’t matter if they’re good or not if I only sell two to someone like Sexy Tourist every three months.

Yes, it’s Adeline’s voice I hear.

Saying photography is my little hobby.

But the nastiness of her tone doesn’t lessen the truth therein.