I parked in the driveway. Rachel peered through the windshield at the house.
“No one knows we’re here yet,” she said. “There was that Greek restaurant down the road—”
“We’ve braved vampires, demons, ghosts, and killer plants,” I told her. “You can get through this.”
She groaned. “Fine.”
At the door I pushed the bell. Rachel tapped her foot nervously. “We could still—”
“Too late.” The door opened.
The woman inside was shorter than Rachel, not as slender, with more gray in her red hair. But she had the same hazelnut eyes, and almost the same smile—polite, but guarded.
“Hello, Rachel,” she said.
Rachel nodded. “Hi, mom.”
After years of dating, living together, fighting monsters, and arguing, Rachel and I were engaged. We still hadn’t set a date—that was one of the arguments lately—but at some point Rachel had to tell her mother about it. Which raised certain issues.
“I hate her,” she said one morning at breakfast. “And she hates me.”
“Hate is a strong word,” I said, in as neutral a tone as I could muster.
“Okay, not hate. She just doesn’t care what I do. Never has, never did.” She stirred her Froot Loops. “I mean, her boyfriends paid more attention to me than she did—not the right kind of attention, but . . .” She ate a spoonful of cereal. “Okay, they weren’t all creeps, and some of them tried to be nice. But when you’re just starting to get psychic powers and you can pick up everything they’re thinking and feeling . . .” She shook her head. “Not that she would have understood it anyway. Or believed me.”
I didn’t know a lot about Rachel’s childhood, but I’d picked up a few highlights over the years. Her parents divorced when she was 11. She’d started developing her powers at 14 or so, and didn’t understand what was happening to her at all—just that she suddenly could see and hear things nobody else could. She hid all that and finally escaped to college, where she got a degree in design and came to terms with her psychic abilities.
We met when she was in her 30s and living in the apartment upstairs from mine. She was having some trouble with vampires, and I helped her out. We started dating, and she started helping me with my cases—I’m a private detective, and for some reason I run into the supernatural on the job way too often. Rachel’s psychic powers came in handy. Plus, she’s hot.
Now, several years later, we’d just gotten engaged. Somewhere in there Rachel reconnected with her mouther—her father had died when she was in college—and they’d been talking every few months. So, the last time she called, Rachel told her mother we were getting married.
So now we were having dinner with her.
“This is Tom,” Rachel said, taking off her coat. “Tom, my mother. Tobie.”
“Hi.” We shook hands. Tobie looked me over, smiling, as if she’d expected me to be imaginary. Then she looked Rachel up and down, nodding in some kind of guarded approval.
It was a small two-story house in Cicero—not the house Rachel had grown up in. A decent neighborhood. I’d seen two parks and an elementary school driving down the street.
“Something to drink? Beer, wine, soda, whiskey . . .” Tobie looked toward her kitchen. “Mike? They’re here!”
Mike was a tall man with a thin beard and a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt. He had broad shoulders, a thick middle, and a strong grip as we shook hands. “Miguel,” he said, “or Mike. Whatever. Can I get you something?”
“Daddy?” The voice of a little girl came from the living room. “You’re missing the movie!”
Mike chuckled. “My daughter. Just a minute, Lily!” He smiled at us. “Liliana. I get her every weekend, and one week a month.”
“Go ahead,” Tobie told him. “I’ll get us some drinks. Rachel?”
Rachel rolled her eyes but followed her mother into the kitchen. Mike led me to the living room, where a big screen TV was playing whatever the latest Pixar movie was streaming. In the middle of the floor, surrounded by a circle of toys, sat Liliana, about eight, with straight black hair, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with Ariel from The Little Mermaid.
“Lily, this is Mr. Jurgen,” Mike said.
She gave me a split-second glance. “Hi.”
“Hello,” I said, sitting down.
Rachel brought me a beer. “Don’t get used to this,” she said, sitting next to me.
Tobie was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Lily, honey? Why don’t you watch that in the other room?”
Lily made a face, sighed, then turned the TV off. “You can use your iPad, honey,” Mike said as she slouched from the room.
Tobie poured wine and lifted her glass. “To finally meeting Tom.”
“And to the wedding.” Mike grinned. “When is it, anyway?”
Rachel and I glanced at each other. “We haven’t set a date yet,” I answered. The reason was mostly because Rachel didn’t want to take a chance on her mother showing up. Plus, we were still getting used to the idea of actually getting formally married.
“Are you going to take Tom’s name?” Tobie asked. “I’m Tabitha Sifuentes now.” She patted Mike’s arm. “Rachel Jurgen. Rachel Jurgen. It could work.”
“I’m keeping Dunne. It’s how my clients know me.” She gulped her beer.
“But don’t you have a new job?” Her eyes narrowed.
Rachel had recently gotten her degree and started working as a therapist in a mental health practice a few months ago. “Yeah, but they all know me this way, and I, uh, I just feel better with my name.” She looked at me. “Tom’s okay with it.”
We hadn’t actually ever discussed it. I shrugged. “I’m fine either way.”
“So,” Mike said. “You’re a private detective, is that right?”
“Yeah.” I waited for him to ask me if I carry a gun. I don’t, usually. Instead he asked me, “Is that interesting? Or just a lot of sitting around watching people go in and out of motels?”
“There’s a certain amount of that.” I sipped my beer. “Lots of what I do is calling people on the phone, asking questions. I used to be a reporter, so I’m good at that.”
“Do you have a lot of rich clients?” Tobie asked, smiling.
I could feel Rachel stifle a groan. I answered, “Can’t tell you that. If you know any millionaires worried about their spouses, though, send them my way.”
Tobie laughed. “If we knew any millionaires, I wouldn’t be married to him.”
“Hey!” Mike chuckled.
She leaned over to kiss his cheek. I felt another suppressed groan from Rachel.
“How’d you guys meet?” Mike asked.
We glanced at each other. “I was living upstairs from him,” Rachel said. “And the landlord said I was making too much noise, so he hired Tom to intimidate me.”
“What kind of noise?” Tobie asked suspiciously.
“Uh, I was running a sort of support group.” Rachel looked at the floor. “For women. With problems. I guess we were making a little noise sometimes—”
“And you got her to shut up?” Tobie was skeptical.
“Hardly.” I looked at her. “I, uh, helped with a problem that was causing the issue.” Vampires, but I didn’t want to spring that on them at our first get-together. “And she kindly let me take her out to dinner.”
“I was just hungry,” Rachel said. “But he was kind of cute. In a shelter dog kind of way.”
They laughed.
Dinner, when we got to it, was a Mexican chicken dish Mike had prepared, spicy and delicious. Rachel picked through it, eating the refried beans and rice because she’s a vegetarian, and Mike apologized several times while Tobie sighed. Lily ate a small portion, along with a few fish sticks.
We chatted amiably through dinner. Mike was in construction, and he told us about his latest project, building a row of townhouses on the other side of Cicero. Rachel talked about her job, and I told a few stories about some of my cases. I kept the details vague and didn’t mention any of the monsters or mad scientists we’ve run into.
Lily was quiet, but she was watching Rachel, as if she wanted to ask her questions about why she wasn’t eating the chicken or why she was hanging out with a funny-looking adult like me. Tobie mostly ignored her, but Mike made sure she finished her dinner and helped clear the table.
After dinner we had coffee in the living room. Lily read by herself in the corner until 8:30, when Tobie called bedtime on her. She said goodnight to me, then surprised Rachel with a hug before Mike took her to her bedroom upstairs.
“She likes you,” Tobie said.
Rachel nodded, puzzled. “Yeah. I don’t know, I’m not really a kid person.”
Tobie cocked her head. “No children for you?”
Rachel stiffened. I said, “Probably not. I mean, things may change, but—”
Rachel’s voice was firm. “No kids. I’m not the mother type.”
“Meaning—” Tobie stopped herself. “Well, I suppose that’s your call. I suppose I wasn’t much of a role model . . .”
For a moment Rachel said nothing, letting the words hang in the air. Then she sighed. “You did the best you could, mom. I know that now. It just—was rough on me. I don’t mean—"
She clenched her jaw. “Well, when he walked on me—”
“On us, mom.” Rachel crossed her arms and stared at her. “Dad walked out on us. Both of us.”
“Yeah. You’re right, you’re right.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “But for me—”
Mike returned. “She’s really taken a shine to you, Rachel,” he said, oblivious to the sudden filling the living room. “More coffee, anyone?” He had a carafe on the center table.
No one answered right away. I finally lifted my cup. “I’ll take a little.”
“Did she complain about the monsters again?” Tobie asked as Mike poured.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I looked, but that doesn’t make a difference. She says they hide when I look for them.”
“Monsters under the bed?” I asked.
“In the closet. She’s got a crazy imagination. It doesn’t happen when she’s with my ex.” He shrugged. “Kids, huh?”
Tobie and Rachel avoided each other’s eyes as I nodded.
A few minutes later, finished with our coffee, we got up to leave. Rachel was eager to escape, and I just wanted to get home at a reasonable hour. Tobie went to fetch our coats when Lily appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Rachel?” Her voice was soft, but quivering. “Will you check for monsters?”
We looked at each other, and then Rachel looked at Mike. His eyes widened, surprised. Tobie returned with our coats. “What?”
“Lily wants Rachel to, uh, check for monsters.” Mike was nervous.
Tobie sighed. “Lily, Rachel’s got to go home. Go back upstairs and your father or me will—”
“It’s okay,” Rachel said. “I’ll go. Coming, Lily.”
She took Lily’s hand and walked her up the stairs.
“Not the mother type, huh?” Tobie let out a mild snort. If Rachel heard, she ignored it.
Rachel returned five minutes later. “She’s fine now.”
“Thank you,” Mike said. “She’s not usually that trusting with people she just met.”
She shrugged. “She’s a sweet kid.”
We got out coats on, and Rachel and her mother managed a brief hug. Mike and I shook hands. “Thanks for everything,” I said.
“Come back again.” Tobie shook my hand. “Drive safe!’
In the car I fastened my belt. “That didn’t go so bad.”
Rachel said nothing.
I started the car. “I mean, your mother’s a little prickly, but—”
“It’s not that.” She stared out the window as I backed up, looking up toward the second floor.
“What?”
“Lily’s right,” Rachel said quietly. “There’s a monster.”
“What kind of monster?”
We were on our sofa, flipping through channels as Rachel searched for a reality show that would calm her nerves.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I only—felt it. There. In the dark.”
I sipped my beer. “Is it dangerous?”
“It’s a monster. Not one of those cute cuddly Pixar ones. I could feel that much.”
“But it hasn’t hurt her.”
Rachel nodded. “Yet.”
She found a show—Return to Bachelorette Island, or something like that—and sipped her own beer.
“So what do we do?” I asked as a string of bachelorettes checked out a line of bachelors in Speedos.
“I don’t know.” Rachel groaned softly. “Lily doesn’t even live there half the time. Does it follow her? Or is it a permanent resident of my mom’s house? I don’t know what to do.”
We sat watching the show for a few minutes.
“Does your mom know? About you being psychic?”
Rachel muted the TV. “You try being a teenager and explaining to your mother that you think you can hear what people are thinking, know what they’re going to say. After a while I quit trying to tell her. I couldn’t go to a therapist because they’d put me on drugs.” She sighed and drank some beer, “After I left, after college, I tried one time, but I was too angry. I couldn’t get past how she didn’t listen to me, how she paid more attention to her boyfriends than me. Did I mention she was high half the time? Or drunk? I sure reminded her. It didn’t go too good. That was before I met you. Before—a lot of things.”
She crossed her arms and put her head down. I leaned over, and she let me hold her.
After a few minutes she sat up and turned the TV off. “But it’s not Lily’s fault. We’ve got to do something. Damn it.”
“Yeah.”
We sat there for a long time.
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