Page 71 of The Irresistible Distraction

“I suppose I’ll have the Asian Cutecumber Salad,” Adeline says, and because she’s finally made a decision, I don’t mention that Reuben might not have done all the prepping for the more traditionally lunchtime dishes.

“The Apple of My Pie, à la cold, please,” Arthur says, smiling condescendingly at the wordplay. When Adeline looks up, Arthur continues. “You’re worried that isn’t healthy enough.”

“At the club⁠—”

“Well, we aren’t at the club right now, and the options here . . .” There’s another glacial pause. “Biscuits,” he tells me finally. “Served first, with extra gravy.”

Walter is now serving three tables while I listen to my former in-laws hem and haw. I’m trying to maintain my patience, but Brody, apparently, decides now is the moment to intervene. “The A-Maize-ing Street Corn lives up to its name.”

He turns toward Adeline and Arthur, and I’m realizing, only belatedly, that Adeline must not have recognized him when she first came in. Most likely, she was too busy being laser-focused on nitpicking my diner. Also, just as possible, for someone who’s always adhered to a pretty strict (and narrow) dress code for herself, she might have simply dismissed the Brody who’s in athleisure wear as someone different than the well-dressed tourist from a week ago.

“Have we met before?”

“Not formally, but I’m Vera Robeson’s nephew.”

Compared to how he introduced himself to Jesse, this is a tame introduction, and yet I can’t help but wish he’d just stayed quiet. The latte was nice, but peace and a shorter interaction with my former in-laws would have been nicer.

“Ah,” Adeline says, and I can tell even from Arthur’s more mild (or at least more well masked) reaction that Jesse has said something about the existence of Brody and me. “And are you planning on staying long?”

“At least a few months,” Brody confirms. “I’m on sabbatical.”

Arthur squints his eyes a little. “You’re a schoolteacher?”

“No, sir.” Brody’s laying it thick, but luckily for both of us, the Williamses are too used to sycophantic behavior to notice that this is parody. And then Brody, who loves to talk, who never seems to tire of talking and texting and phoning, suddenly withholds information, waits for someone to ask.

“And what do you do, son?”

It’s patronizing in the extreme, but Brody answers lightly. “I’m an attorney now. Used to study physics.”

“Really?” Arthur puffs himself up, having clearly not done his homework. “Went to Western State years ago now. Trial lawyer. Considered becoming a judge. Where did you study?”

“Yale Law. Caltech before that.” I watch as Adeline’s face pales a little. I’m loving and, more than that, really living for the way she looks Brody up and down again, no doubt recognizing belatedly that even though Brody’s dressed in jogging clothes, it’s expensive-looking, quality athleisure wear.

“But you’re on sabbatical now?”

“Just a small break to reorganize my priorities.” Brody’s voice is firmer now. “But I didn’t mean to interrupt the reunion here, I just felt awkward not at least introducing myself, considering.”

And again the pause, as he waits for Adeline this time to ask, “Considering?”

“That your son and I are pursuing the same woman, of course.” He turns toward Walter, who’s open-mouthed. And because the diner’s really not that large, I’m positive everyone heard. Mentally, I’m wondering if it takes approximately eight hours before the fact that Sebastian’s wearing a holey shirt to get back to me, how long it will be before everyone—and here I truly mean everyone in my town-not-town—hears that Jesse and Brody are both, apparently, pursuing me.

“Hey, Reuben, can you just box that up for me? I’ll come back for it later.” He takes the time to shake Arthur’s hand and gives Adeline a mock salute before giving me a casual wave, already taking out his AirPods, not caring, perhaps, just how much he’s disrupted my already nuclear-level day.

21

WHY AM I THE SOLE PROVIDER?

Because Adeline and Arthur are not the type of people who enjoy being gossiped about, because they tried to pretend my quickie marriage and pregnancy were all planned, because that was the respectable fiction, they say little to me during the rest of their breakfast.

They barely touch their food, and it’s a real struggle for me, despite how well I’m fed (thanks to Brody’s housekeeper/chef Cynthia), to not steal the untouched side of gravy off Arthur’s plate.

On the bright side, Adeline makes no more snide comments about the menu or décor. Now that everyone is watching, Adeline is on her best behavior.

They tip 5 percent.

And that’s despite the fact that I didn’t charge them for the coffee, something Arthur notices and thanks me for in the slightly condescending, waving-to-the-peasants way he has about him. It’s moments like these I remember that Adeline married into money, but Arthur . . . was born into it.

Like Brody.