by Alexie Aaron
Ted snorted before he cleared his voice and said, “Ralph, I think Mia deserves to dress how she wants. We shouldn’t let clothes depict who we are.”
“You should talk. When have you ever left the ball cap at home? At least you show the manners to take it off inside. You do take it off inside, don’t you?” Ralph grilled.
Ted remained silent.
“He takes it off for you, Ralph,” Mia said. “He respects you. Now, you need to back off, Grandpa, or…”
“Grandpa!” he wailed again.
“Now you’ve done it. He’s back on that jag now,” Bernard said. “I’m going to have a Mimosa. Ted? Mia, honey, no liquor for you.”
“Bummer,” Mia said, not because she was fond of drinking at ten in the morning but because the alcohol would have made Ralph’s squeals and wails a bit easier to take.
“What did Amanda say?” Ralph asked, leading Mia back to the sofa. He yanked up her feet and thrust a hassock under them.
“My mother doesn’t know.”
“What? You told Charles of course.”
“You and Bernard are the first…”
“Ahem, you better tell them about Bev,” Ted said, easing himself into the large, overstuffed chair across from Mia.
“You didn’t tell that bitch of an aunt first, did you?”
“Actually I didn’t. He did,” Mia accused and pointed to Ted.
Ted shrank back from the killer glare Ralph was giving him.
“Explain.”
“Well, I sort of blurted it out and forgot she was there,” he said in his defense.
“I’m surprised the minx didn’t call. Did she call you, Bernard?”
“No, haven’t heard from her since she sold Mia into slavery,” he said, smoothing the crease in his pant leg.
Mia smiled. Her godfathers were always primping. It didn’t matter that the creek was rising or they were going to see the queen or a queen, they just couldn’t stop from preening. Bernard’s handsome black skin showed a life of laughter and stress from his curator positions and his partner’s outbursts. Gray had finally worked its way into his short, neatly trimmed black hair. Mia loved the sharpness of his lean features. He complimented Ralph’s softness. Ralph was all brown, from his dyed hair to his spray-on tan. Combined with his immaculate wardrobe, the man was handsome. Mia detected some bunny wrinkles on his nose. She suspected botox but wouldn’t be so rude as to mention it. She loved these men. They were there for her when she was alone and needed them. Now she would be able to share her family with them. She vowed that this couple would never be alone, not as long as she could do something about it.
“So you will understand why I think you should move up the date,” Mia said. “I can’t be wearing that Vera Wang dress with baby showing…”
“Baby bumps are all the rage. But your breasts, my god, if they are this big now, can you imagine…”
Ted quietly adjusted himself. “What Mia is trying to say is, get your act together, so we don’t have to keep our dozen kids in line while you walk down the aisle.”
“Boy or girl?” Ralph asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Mia said uncomfortably. “Why?”
“I always wanted a flower girl…”
“We aren’t waiting that long,” Bernard said. “Let’s leave this discussion for another time. I can see Mia’s hungry.”
“Mia’s always hungry,” Ted and Ralph said in chorus.
~
“I know a dietician here in Chicago. Perhaps she could help you with a palatable diet good for growing a Martin/Cooper,” Mike said.
“Depends on whether you slept with her,” Mia said.
“Mike sleeps with everyone,” Ted reminded her. “The question is whether or not the affair ended well.”
Mike didn’t defend himself. Ted was right. “It ended fine. She is happily married and has two children.”
“How long have you known her?” Mia asked suspiciously. “You didn’t…”
“Evidently pregnant women have high sex drives in the second trimester, something to look forward to,” he said, patting Ted on the back.
Mia and Ted were making the rounds since they were in Chicago. First Ralph and then Mike before they stopped at her parents’ apartment. They planned to round off the visit by taking Father Alessandro out for a good steak and then heading back to the sticks.
“We’ve got a problem with the computers,” Ted blurted out.
“Burt mentioned a ghost in the machine type of event going on. What’s the diagnosis?”
“I think he’s right. The problem is, I think we have to trace the initial encounter to get a grasp on what exactly we are dealing with,” Ted outlined. “I was wondering if you’d like to look into this for me.”
“Me? You’re the technical genius. Or Cid. I’m just…”
“Dupree, I know you know your way around a keyboard. You had Burt hire me because you wanted to have more leisure time, and you thought geeky guys didn’t get the ladies.”
Mike looked at Mia and said, “Well, I was wrong there. Okay, I don’t want you to send any files to me, but hard copies would be nice. I’ll start with your jailbroke smart phone. I have your bills or the accountant does.”
“We have an accountant?” Ted asked surprised. “We can’t afford an accountant, can we?”
“I can or, rather, Ma can. I send the expenses to him to sort out.”
“Phew!” Ted said. “If it were a she then I’d be worried. So if you’re not doing PEEPs bills, what are you doing?”
Mia looked around the immaculate condo and knew he had a maid, so it wasn’t cleaning he was doing.
“Reading, I’ve been binge reading,” he admitted. “I just can’t get enough of my latest author.”
Mia and Ted, who had long ago deduced that Mike, the very male womanizer in front of them, preferred to read romance novels, looked at each other.
“I say do whatever makes you happy. Speaking of, you’ve healed up remarkably. When I last saw you, you were talking like Daffy Duck,” Mia said.
“Ma got ahold of Judy through Amelia. She paid for her services. I think my mother is considering going into business with Judy. She’s offering to put her into a high-rise penthouse spa situation. That way Judy could fly in. You know, commute from the island.”
“Can your mother afford that? I mean how many rare books did we find?” Ted asked Mia.
“She got some inside info from your mother, Ted. Evidently, she’s not as rich as Buffett, but the IRS is just as interested,” Mike bragged.
“My mother’s going to end up in jail,” Ted worried.
Mia grasped his hand in sympathy. She knew that her mother-in-law had made strategic investments from information she had overheard at her job as a secretary for an investment group. What she didn’t know was that she was sharing it with Mike’s mother.
“So are you going to help track down the ghost?” Mia asked. “Or should we look elsewhere?”
“Why can’t Ted do his own work?”
“Ted’s been targeted. The ghost knows his business before Ted does,” Mia explained. “Tell him about Curly.”
“Curly, curly… Oh, the wall-searching gizmo,” Mike realized. “What’s going on with it?”
“It’s taking itself for little walks. I suspect the ghost is enjoying manipulating the machine.”
“I think it’s looking for a body. It’s trying to possess a machine.”
“Why not a body?” Mike asked.
“Good question. If it did, Father Alessandro would be our man, but the thing is smart, and it’s keeping to the machines,” Ted said.
“This is intriguing. Leave it to me. We have a few days before the Wheaton investigation. I’ll look over the information and see if I can trace your ghost,” Mike promised.
~
Audrey was letting her nails dry as she watched her mother knead bread.
“Tell me again why you aren’t using the bread machine Dad got you for Christmas?” Audrey asked
.
“It’s okay if I’m busy, but nothing eases my arthritis more than kneading,” Erin McCarthy said. She looked over at her daughter who seemed to be in a great mood. The date she had tonight was with a pediatrician. Was he the source of the good mood? “So tell me, how did you meet this Matt?”
“On the job.”
“I thought you didn’t have any professional work… Oh, the ghost hunting job.”
“Don’t look all sour grapes when you say that. I like investigating haunts. The last one was a corker...”
“Don’t change the subject. So was it this Matt’s house you were investigating?”
“Not initially. He has a resident ghost, much like Mia does but different.”
“I’ll never get used to all this cohabitating with the dead,” Erin confessed.
“Well, he approached me. He’s divorced and not at all bitter. He’s a busy doctor, and well, we just sort of hit it off. I’m not going to pin my heart on it, but I think we may have a lot in common.”
“The ghost thing.”
“Other things too. He loves to read. He likes kids. He…”
“Okay, I see your point. So where is he taking you?”
“We are going to Ravinia to see the Chicago Symphony perform. He has season tickets.”
“He’s not gay is he?”
“Mother! No, he’s not. If he were, why would he be asking me… Oh.”
“It could be a friend date. Don’t get your heart set,” Erin cautioned. Audrey’s face settled into a frown. Regretting her comment, Erin asked her daughter, “What does your friend Mia think? She’s a sensitive and has gay parents…”
“Godparents,” Audrey corrected. “I don’t know. She didn’t say anything. I’ll go and give her a call,” Audrey said, walking out of the kitchen.
“Erin McCarthy, when will you learn to keep your mouth shut,” she scolded herself.
~
Ted was backing into the hard-sought-for parking space when Mia got Audrey’s SOS text. “Seems to me that Audrey’s got the first date jitters.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She asked if I had time to talk her off a ledge.”
“You better call her. She’s our best researcher yet.”
“How mercenary of you,” Mia said and dialed.
“Mom thinks Matt’s gay,” Audrey blurted out.
“Hello to you too,” Mia said. “He’s not. Bev read his mind, and he’s not.”
“Bev reads minds?”
“She pretends she doesn’t, but she does. He’s heterosexual,” Mia assured her.
“Then why did he ask me out?”
“I’m confused.”
“I’m old and needy and…”
“You’re not old.”
“Burt says I am.”
“Burt’s an ass.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“One hundred percent USDA ass,” Mia confirmed. “Matt is interested in you because you are so happy, beautiful and don’t think he’s a nutcase living with a ghost. Come on, what happened to you since last night?”
“Spent the afternoon with my mother,” she confessed.
“Leave immediately. Go home, get dressed and enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t forget the bug spray.”
“Thank you, Mia. I owe you.”
Mia lowered her phone and smiled.
“Well, you have that I’ve saved the world smug look on your face that I love so much,” Ted said, opening the door for her.
“Do I? Good. Let’s see how long it lasts in the presence of my mother.”
“What is it with you girls and your moms?” Ted mused. “My mother’s and sisters’ fracases could fuel their own telenovela. I think it should be called, Wichita Women Witches.”
Mia giggled. Ted knew just the thing to get her back in a good mood. The antics of his two married and one single sister were legendary. At least in Wichita they were. Mia pondered what her relationship would be if she had a little girl. Was there any way to avoid the conflict?
“Well, look who it is, the slut and her husband,” the whisky-voiced super’s wife greeted them.
“My wife’s not a slut,” Ted growled.
Mia reached over and put a restraining hand on Ted’s arm. “She’s just mad that Whitney no longer comes over and eats her cookies,” Mia explained. “I told you, the man is in Washington DC and available.”
“Can’t, I’ll have to schedule the trip after I get my new hip.”
Mia pushed past the woman and began to climb the stairs.
“Why in the world did you dump Prince Charming for this string bean?” the woman called after them.
Mia stopped and turned around. “I traded up. There is no one better in the entire planet than Ted. I’m lucky to have him.”
“You’re lucky he likes sluts,” the woman spat before entering the lower apartment and closing the door.
“I do like sluts,” Ted said. “How’d she know?”
Mia, who was three steps above him, leaned over and kissed him on top of his head. “Just make sure it’s this slut you spend your time with.”
“I thought I heard someone out here. Mia, stop making out with Ted, and get in here before your father’s soufflé falls,” her mother ordered from the doorway.
“Dad’s cooking? I told you we were going out after…”
“Nonsense, you two are young and have good appetites. Be nice. It will probably taste like cigarette ash anyway,” Amanda said.
Her mother was a chain-smoker. She probably thought everything tasted like ash by now, Mia mused.
Charles, the eminent archeologist, came out of the kitchen wearing an apron displaying the words I dig your bones. “Sit,” he ordered. “It’s a chocolate soufflé. I thought it was just the thing for Sunday afternoon.”
Mia looked around the apartment and saw that it had gone through quite a renovation since Amanda had abandoned her essays and decided that blogging was a better way of getting her work into the minds of the ill-informed. Instead of piles of bookmarked books everywhere, there were shiny surfaces. A large monitor dominated the bookshelf. Mia looked behind her and realized that Amanda wasn’t simply writing a blog, she was video blogging.
“What’s the subject this week?” Ted asked. “Last week’s vlog on dust mite invasion was brilliant.”
“You watch my mother’s blog?” Mia questioned. “I didn’t even know she was vlogging.”
“It’s why he’s my favorite son-in-law,” Amanda said, sitting down primly at the edge of the sofa. “You look different, Mia. Are you getting fat?”
Mia closed her eyes a moment. Not even Ralph had picked up that she’d put on a pound. How could this woman see that?
“I think she looks lovely,” Charles said, bending over and kissing Mia on the cheek.
Suspicious that they were being filmed, Mia looked at the monitor to see if the webcam was on.
“It’s not on,” Charles said.
“Then why are you guys all…” The pressure of Ted’s knee against hers stopped her from comparing the couple to the latest family friendly sitcom parents. “Happy.”
“You’ve come to visit us, and you’re not with your entourage of PEEPs,” Charles said.
“It’s so nice to see you without your buffer zone,” Amanda said. “So, out with it. I expect you’re here to tell us you’re going back to college?”
“No,” Mia said, developing an eye tick.
“You have such a great mind. Pity to waste it on…”
“I’m pregnant,” Mia blurted out to stop Amanda.
Charles clapped his hands together. “I am so happy for you. For us! Amanda, we are going to be grandparents!”
The look on her mother’s face was worth the trip. Amanda, who never was interested in being a parent, now had to face being a granny. Mia smiled from ear to ear.
Chapter Twenty-five
They stood looking at their home. It had taken them years to save for it, but it had been worth it. French Re
vival is what they called the style. Even though it was a scaled-down version of the mansions that once dominated the country estates, they still felt quite blessed that they lived there. Where else could you walk in and experience the majestic chandelier overhead, the sweep of the curved stairway to the second floor and feel protected from the northern Illinois winds that this outlying area of Chicago was so famous for. The stone exterior had survived a century of storms. Not even the twister of 1975 dared to do more than dislodge a few ceiling tiles. The house was built to last. Sure, it had plumbing to be sorted, and the heating needed updating. The Wheatons were hardy people, and if it meant a few nights huddled in a Mountainsmith Loveland sleeping bag, nose to nose, in order to live in their dream home, so be it.
John and Mindy didn’t buy the house because they wanted to show off. They bought it because they loved it. Tim’s earliest stroller memories were of the couple’s weekly treks up the hill to gaze upon the house that was owned at that time by Arthur and Agatha Prune. Arthur inherited it from his decadent aunt Marilee Roux. He was a handy sort, and he kept the home in good repair.
After a few years of noticing the young couple’s interest in his home, Arthur approached them and invited them into the house. Agatha, who was knitting while listening to the Cubs lose yet another game, was amused by the exclamations of joy as the young people took in the staircase. She grabbed her cane and thumped her way to the foyer and smiled at the visitors.
John had picked up little Tim and held him in his arms, fearing what a three-year-old could do to the treasured knickknacks he spied grouped tastefully on low tables. He looked up at the chandelier and turned around until Tim patted him on the shoulder and said, “Daddy, my tummy sick.”
“Excuse me!” John called as he ran with his son outside. Tim vomited in the ditch in front of the house.
Mortified, Mindy apologized and started to leave.
“The boy’s not to be blamed. Not many of us can twirl without tossing our cookies,” Agatha said kindly. “Call them back in. Arthur, you better rinse down the puke before we attract vermin.”
