Life and Other Inconveniences(72)

It reminded me of my own days babysitting for some of the summer families, or the children of Genevieve’s guests. I’d always been more comfortable that way, anyway. More the Silent Shaylee type back then.

“Your daughter is sort of . . . magical,” Miller said. “Wow. Tess usually hates babysitters.”

“Well, we’re in a strange place, so she probably feels a little off-balance and in need of an ally.” Enough psychobabble, Emma. “And you’re right. Riley is really great with kids.”

“She is,” Jason said, suddenly at my side. “You should see her with her brothers. Got you a drink, Em. Cosmo, Grey Goose, your favorite.”

“Thanks,” I said. It hadn’t been my favorite for a while, but it was thoughtful of him.

“How are you, Jason?” Miller asked.

“Great! Good. How are you? The kid’s gotten awfully cute.”

“Thank you. Takes after her mother.”

“She does. Yep. Yeah, Riley’s great with her brothers. You should definitely come over sometime, Miller. Mom and Dad would love to see you.”

Okay, this was . . . odd. They were cousins. I’d imagined they’d be closer. I’d yearned for cousins as a child. Still did. “Don’t you guys work together?”

“We do,” Jason said. “I do the boring office stuff, though. Miller runs the sites.”

Miller nodded, looking at his drink.

“Your grandparents are totally not happy I’m here,” Jason said in a conspiratorial tone. “They still hate me for knocking you up.”

“Well. I was a pure and innocent teenager, after all.”

“So was I.” He grinned.

“But your life went pretty much the same,” Miller said, not looking up. “Whereas Emma had to move and raise the baby and do all the work.”

Jason’s face froze, and Miller gave himself a little shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually know what I’m talking about. Didn’t mean to be rude, Jase. I’m not getting a lot of sleep these days.”

“No, dude, it’s fine. You’re right.”

“Spot-on,” I said. “Which is exactly why my grandparents resent him. But Genevieve resents me, too, so we can be a club, Jason.” As usual, I offered the olive branch, then wondered why.

“Emma, would you take off my sock?” Donelle called. “I can’t reach it, honey, and I want to show Dr. Talwar my toenail.”

“Duty calls,” I murmured, going to Donelle’s side and taking off her sock. Both the good doctor and I recoiled.

Donelle’s big toenail didn’t look like something that grew on humans. It looked like a tree fungus, greenish and curling around into a tube, with a whitish ooze coming out. I would never look at a cannoli the same way again.

“Let’s put this sock right back on, shall we?” I said, trying to do the job without actually looking at the foot.

“Hold on there, Emma,” Donelle said. “Dr. Talwar—what’s your first name?”

The female doctor looked slightly terrified. “Saanvi. I’m a thoracic surgeon, so I’m afraid I can’t—”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure this out. Look. Is that fungus or what? Also, can you prescribe some medical weed for this? Wait. Is pot legal yet?”

Dr. Talwar covered her mouth with her fist. “Your toe does require attention, yes. I’m fairly certain you can’t get medical marijuana for it, though.”

“Good God, Donelle,” I said. “Put it away. Here. Let me help.”

“I’ve been having the kid smear it with Vicks VapoRub,” Donelle said. “Think it’ll work?”

“You know, I don’t recall Vicks as a therapy for that, ah, condition,” Dr. Talwar said, backing away.

“I’ll cut it back for you,” Pop said, cocking his head. “Got some pretty sharp hedge clippers that should do the job.”

“Are you flirting with me, Paul?” Donelle asked.

He smiled begrudgingly and didn’t deny it.

“Seriously, Doc, what’s your take on it? Surgery?”

“Donelle, for heaven’s sake, stop harassing my guests.” Genevieve arrived, martini in hand. “We have discussed the state of your hideous foot more than enough. Saanvi, I would love your opinion on a new color for the front parlor. Do you mind? Donelle, darling, put your sock back on and let Emma visit. Emma, dear, have you met the other Dr. Talwar? Vikram, this is my granddaughter, Emma London.”

There it was, the magical Genevieve London hospitality. Even Donelle’s hideous, bark-like toenails couldn’t faze her. For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt an unwilling tug of admiration.

“Very nice to meet you,” I said to the guest.

“And you,” he said. “So nice for Genevieve to have you and your daughter here for the summer.” His phone chirped, and he looked at it. “I’m so sorry. I’m on call tonight and have to take this.”

“Of course.” The other guests seemed to know each other—three women and a man, all laughing, all very well dressed, preppy with a little extra—the diamond stud earrings, the Patek Philippe watch.

For a second, I felt the urge to go upstairs and hang out with the kids. But Riley was making a friend (I hoped), and I should let her.