"So, how's school going?"

"Good, sir," I mumbled behind a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Jesse's doing well in his classes," Sedah spoke up. "He's on the honor's track for next year."

"Oh, that's nice," said Sedah's mother. "More potatoes dear?"

They tasted like wet sandpaper and dirt. I tried to smile.

"No thanks, I'm pretty full."

"Really?" her dad chimed in. "You've barely touched your corn."

The corn oozed and bubbled slightly. My smile became a bit more strained.

"What can I say? I'm a bit nervous."

"No reason to be nervous," said Sedah's mother. "It's nice to finally get to meet you. Sedah's been so secretive about you!"

"Moth-errrr..." Sedah groaned.

"Now, now, don't tease them, dear," came her father's deep, rumbling voice. "Jesse seems like a nice enough boy. Play any sports?"

"N-no sir," I said.

"Well, what do you do for exercise? Fitness is very important in this family."

"Oh my god, dad..." Sedah looked mortified.

"Um, I run and do some VR training. Most of my extra-carriculars are in art and sciences."

"Ah, a science wiz!" he boomed. "What kind of projects are you working on?"

"N-nothing special. A rain recycler, right now. Trying to help out with the water shortage."

"Well, good for you," said Sedah's mom from the kitchen. "If everyone's finished, I've got dessert ready. Jesse, would you mind giving me a hand?"

I went into the kitchen and she presented me with four bowl of... ice cream? I think? Except mine was blinking at me.

"I... um, I don't..."

"Is everything all right, dear?"

"Yes, sure, I'll just get these out to the table."

I sat in silence, staring at my bowl. It stared back at me.

"So..." said her father. "Let's get the awkward question out in the open."

Sedah stood up.

"Dad, no. Enough. Jesse's a nice boy, he's nice to me, and we're dating. Your little girl is smooching a boy and you both need to deal with it. Jesse, will you be nice to me?"

"Of course I will."

"There. Done. Bye."

Sedah grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the table into the other room where we sat down on the couch.

I could hear her parents talking in the other room.

"Well, he didn't run screaming."

"And he was telling the truth."

"Looks like Sedah picked a good one, then."

She put her head on my chest.

"Sorry about them," she said. "After they retired from hero-ing they both can get a little playful with their powers."

"Powers?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting up. "You didn't know Mom and Dad used to be part of the Vigil?"

I was stunned.

"I had no idea," I said. "What are their powers?"

"Dad's an illusionist, makes people see, hear, experience things sometimes."

"Son of a -"

"What?"

"Nothing. What's your mom do?"

"Human lie-detector."

"Morning, Eliza."

Fred was like that, always friendly, always holding the door. Or trying to, I suppose.

"Who've we got today?"

"Car crash in the first three biers, cancer in the fourth, natural causes in the fifth."

I set up and began working on the crash people first; they were heading straight to cremation since there wasn't going to be much point in a coffin service.

"Fred, can you make a note for me to call Happy Wags and let them know that the Fielder's dog hasn't been fed since Monday night?"

"Aw, poor thing. Are they worried?"

"I told them we'd take care of it. Let's see..."

"Little Eliza, is that you?"

It took me a half-second to turn, trying to make sure I had a nice smile on before I came about.
"Mrs. Johansson, I thought that was you."

"My goodness, dear, I haven't seen you since you left the grade school. Is this there where you work now?"

Her voice trailed off.

"And why am I... oh."

She stared down at herself.

"Oh, my."

I put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to push through it.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so, dear." she said absently. "I just wasn't expecting... do you know how?"

"I can check for you, if you like," I said. "Fred?"

Fred slid smoothly through the wall.

"Lessee... Olive Johansson, seventy-four... says here she had a fall. Paramedics found her on her floor. DOA."

Mrs. Johansson's face creased thoughtfully.

"No... no that doesn't sound right," she said. "There was a young man. Who was he? I recognized him..."

Her voice trailed off again as she stared at Fred.

"How do you do?" she said.

He tipped his oversized security cap.

"Ma'am."

"And this is what you do all day, dear?" she asked me. "Talk with the... 'living-challenged'?"

I smiled. "Mostly. Make sure people are at peace, do what we can for them."

She snapped her fingers.

"It was that Edgar boy. Edgar Deems, from down the street. Always looking at my old jewelry. Always coming around the back door when he thought I wasn't home. He frightened me a little, Eliza."

I waited.

"I came home and he was in the kitchen. He was... he was looking through the drawers, looking for something. I surprised him. He struck me, he struck me with... with my favorite cast-iron skillet."

She stopped.

"That's never going to come out," she said matter-of-factly.

​

Detective Lawrence had come and gone; Edgar had been falling over himself to confess when they picked him up at the bus station, several of Mrs. Johansson's necklaces in his pockets. I was sitting back in my office chair when Fred came drifting up from below.

"Did you remember to call Happy Wags?" he asked.