Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Toni could feel the knot between her shoulders loosen as she settled back into the booth. One of the benefits of--it wasn't exactly dating, but whatever it was they were doing--knowing. One of the benefits of knowing Gary Hobson was that it gave her a place to hang out that wasn't infested with cops. After a long week, it was nice to have a drink and talk about something other than arrest records and court dates.

Even if it wasn't with Gary, who was currently out saving Chicago from itself.

Marissa, fresh from a run-in with an overly inebriated regular, slipped back into her seat in the booth and took a prim sip of her wine. "Do you know when the baby's due?"

"Late October."

Marissa raised her glass. "Congratulations, Aunt Toni. You're going to love it."

Toni made a face as she clinked her tumbler—whisky, rocks—against Marissa's glass. "I don't know what to think. Marcus was always the least responsible of my brothers, and now all of a sudden he's going to be a parent. I'm a little worried about how he'll handle it."

"Do you trust his wife?"

"Actually, yeah. She's the one who talked him out of a huge wedding and a house they can't afford."

"Sounds like they'll be okay," Marissa said with a conspiratorial grin. Your job is to swoop in every now and then, be the cool auntie, and leave them to deal with the fallout. Give the kid a drum set or karate lessons for Christmas, take them out for ice cream for dinner, that kind of thing."

"That's your MO?"

"You sound surprised."

"I guess I figured you'd be the responsible one."

"I have to be, around Gary." Marissa's faint grimace, there and then quickly erased, told Toni two things: first, it was exactly as much of a pain in the ass to keep tabs on Gary as a friend as it was as a…well, as someone who knew him and may or may not have been dating or about to be dating him; and second, that the competent, practical persona Marissa displayed around Gary and the bar they ran together was only part of her M.O. "I let loose around the actual kids. That way they know they have a release valve when things with their parents get intense." She traced the edge of her glass with a fingertip. "The hardest thing about being an aunt is that you give your heart to someone when you don't have much control over their well-being."

"Gotta be honest, I don't like giving up control," Toni admitted.

"That makes sense. It's what makes you a good detective."

Toni nearly admitted it was what made her an obsessed detective, so much so that her captain had ordered her to take time off now that the Ralston case had wrapped. She was interrupted by a few raucous shouts at a development in the baseball game on the tv over the bar. The White Sox and the Cubs were playing, so whatever happened, half the bar cheered and the other half groaned.

"Can I ask you something?" Marissa asked when the noise faded back to a normal level. "You can say no, it's fine, but right now the only other person I can ask is Gary, and he's--"

"Unavailable?" Toni leaned in. "As usual?"

Marissa gave a shrug. Toni wasn't always sure how to read her, and even though she'd known about Gary's allegedly magic newspaper for a month now, Marissa still could be wary when the subject came up.

"It's more like I don't trust his fashion sense. I have a presentation coming up at a conference. It's mostly other students, but I want to look professional and I need an outfit that says I'm more than a bar manager."

"You want fashion advice? From me? I mean, I'm sure Hobson doesn't know a skirt from culottes, but I've been wearing cop clothes for a long time. I may not be your best bet." Not to mention she didn't have any sisters, or any friends who were women in Chicago. Other than bridesmaid dresses for her brothers' weddings, it had been at least five years since she'd gone shopping for clothes with someone else. She gestured at Marissa's outfit, a bright patterned blouse and dark slacks, with matching jewelry that made Toni wonder how, exactly, she coordinated herself without being able to check the mirror. "You look great right now."

"I look good for a sports bar." Marissa gave a wry smile that wavered at the edges. "This is a conference for the American Psychological Association."

"You nervous?" Toni couldn't think of a time she would have used that word for Marissa Clark.

"A little, yes." She sipped more wine. "You project confidence. I want to do that, too. I don't care if they're cop clothes, I want to wear something that'll make my colleagues take me seriously. Something that will help them look past this." She touched her white cane, folded, at the back edge of the table. "Or my dog."

"If you really think I can help, then sure. Tomorrow work for you?"

"Perfectly, thank you." Marissa grinned. "And if you need help finding a baby gift, I can help with that."

"It's a deal." Toni polished off her drink and waved her empty glass at the bartender. "Should I get them a drum set?"

Marissa tilted her head. "The kid's not even born yet. Maybe start with a xylophone."

The twin homing beacons of McGinty's neon sign and Toni's car parked at the curb gave Gary the will to stumble the last few yards to the front door. Toni could make the long, harried day fade into memory before he had to face another one. Still, he had to dredge every last ounce of energy from his muscles to get the door open and walk into his bar.

She was tucked into a back booth, laughing with Marissa over drinks. He could get used to this.

"Hey ladies," he said, earning a start from Toni and a slow smile from Marissa, who'd probably detected him out on the sidewalk with her unique brand of radar. "What's going on?"

Toni looked up with a crooked half-grin that caught his breath in his chest, and his bad day fell away. "I've given my testimony so I'm done with the Ralston case. Celebrating with a drink with my friend."

"Friends, plural," he said, angling himself so he could slide in next to her. But she didn't move. Marissa's smile turned a little smug, as if she knew exactly what was coming. "I'm done for the day, so I can--" He waved his hand at the booth. "--join you."

"Not until you take a shower." Toni wrinkled her nose. "Preferably a hazmat-level one."

"What are you talking about?" Gary tried to slide in next to Marissa, but she wouldn't budge. Not even Reilly, who was curled up just under the table, made a move to let him sit.

A pair of customers walked by. The man grimaced and the woman must have made some kind of noise, because Marissa said, "You're driving away the customers. What have you been up to?"

Now that he'd been in the warm bar for a few minutes, Gary had to admit there was a lingering odor—a faint one—emanating from his jacket. "Semi full of pigs on the way from Ohio to Iowa rolled over on an entrance ramp to I-80. Some of the pigs tried to make a run for it out onto the highway."

"So you had to save their bacon?" Toni asked.

"He does not smell like bacon," Marissa said. "Not even close."

"Yeah, well, neither do live pigs, especially when they think they've been busted out of pig jail," Gary grumbled. "Can I please sit down for a minute?" He nudged Toni's arm with his hip, but she pushed back.

"Not a chance. Can't you smell yourself?"

"Sort of. I think I'm getting a cold. I've been running around this city for four days now with hardly any break."

"Then make it a hot shower," Marissa suggested, shooing him away. "The steam will clear your sinuses. Go."

"I'm not sure I trust the two of you alone."

"I'm not sure that's up to you," Toni told him pointedly.

"Fine, but save me a place." He turned, but the bartender, Tim, appeared at his elbow with the handset from the cordless phone.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Hobson. Your mom's on the phone."

At least one woman in his life wanted to talk to him. He reached for it, but Tim extended the phone across him--his nose wrinkled, too--to Marissa. "She wants to talk to Ms. Clark."

Warning bells sounded in his brain. This could not be good.

"Hi, Lois," Marissa said, a question in the tone of her greeting. Gary watched her expression shift from perplexed to amused and a bit determined as she said, "Yes, of course, how can I--oh, congratulations! Well, I agree, that would be ideal, but you know what he'll say."

Toni coughed and flashed another smirk at him, oblivious to his frown. What was his mom up to, and why the hell was Marissa going along with it?

"I'd be glad to help, and I think it's perfectly doable," Marissa went on. "Congratulations again. Here's Gary." She held the phone out to him. "She's about to ask you to do something. You're going to say yes. We'll make it work."

"What do you mean, I'm going to say yes?"

There was another subtle change in Marissa's expression, a hardening to the set of her jaw. She wrapped her hand around the mouthpiece to mute what she said next. "What I mean is, this is your mother, and while I know what your first response will be, you need to get past it and agree to do what she asks."

If there was such a thing as fight-or-flight, he was inclined to fly right that moment. Two of the most indomitable women in his life--three, if the slightly arched brow Toni shot his way was any indication--were aligned on something. Probably something he wouldn't want to do. He took the phone with the sinking realization that the battle, whatever it was, was already lost.

"Hi, Mom." He shifted and caught another whiff of pig sweat. Fly, the voice in his head suggested. To the shower. "What's up?"

"Gosh, son, it's good to hear your voice, too," Lois said sarcastically, as if she wasn't the one who'd initiated whatever the hell this was. "Honey, your dad and I are lining up a little shindig. It's our thirty-fifth anniversary this year, and it falls on the same weekend as the Hickory Rodeo Roundup. With the parade and the carnival and all, we think it'll be the perfect weekend to throw a party! We want you to be here for it."

"Well, yeah, I can come down for the day." He shot a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening, then added, "As long as the paper doesn't get in the way."

Lois's voice took on a slightly harder note. "I need you to make sure it doesn't. And I need you for more than a day. You know how your father is."

"Don't listen to her, Gar!" Bernie shouted. Belatedly, Gary became aware of the mechanical whine, a drill, in the background on his parents' end. "I am perfectly capable of throwing a party!"

"I told you to let me handle this," Lois said. "If you had your way we'd be marching in that parade and bringing the whole band back to the house for a barbeque."

"What's wrong with that? The band director's in my posse."

"He's on your bowling team," Lois said dryly.

"They're my posse."

Lois let out an elaborate sigh. "Do you see what I'm dealing with, Gary? I want something elegant. A dance and a nice dinner at the supper club. Something personal. You run a bar. You're used to events like this. I need your help to plan it."

Gary ran his free hand through his hair. "We don't get a lot of anniversaries at McGinty's. You can't really believe I'm going to be more help than Dad."

"That drill he's using on my china cabinet would be more help than your father."

Did she honestly expect him to party plan? "What's this really about?"

"Aw, c'mon, Lo," Bernie said at the same time.

"Okay, fine, I want you here. Is that so wrong? We haven't seen you in months. And Marissa says she can handle the paper while you're gone."

"That's not how it works."

"I think it works however you want it to work. Who's in charge, you or the cat?"

Gary snorted.

"Don't you dare say the cat."

"It's just--there's a lot going on right now."

Marissa, who now had the cat on her lap, whispered, "There is not." She reached over and put her hand on his arm. "Gary. They're your family. Say yes and we'll work it out."

He was too tired to fight. "Okay, fine. When?"

Lois didn't even try to hide the delight in her voice. "The party will be Saturday, so we need to start planning right away. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Tomorrow was Tuesday. "But that'd mean I'd be there almost--" He broke off as he realized Marissa and Toni were having a quick whispered conversation, while his dad chortled indistinctly about rodeo clowns and carnival rides. "What are you two up to?"

"I want my son home for a few days, being part of our lives and helping us instead of strangers for a change," Lois said plaintively, inducing guilt as only she could. "It's the only gift I want."

"I didn't mean you," he said sharply, frowning at Toni, who continued to look at him with that discombobulating grin.

She waved a hand, as if brushing off his objections. "We've got this, Hobson. Go have fun in Podunk."

He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. But he was exhausted, his head weighed a ton, and he smelled like pigs. Not even his father was going to save him from being backed into a corner by the three most intimidating women in his universe.

"Gary?" Lois prompted.

"C'mon, Gar, it'll be fun," Bernie piped in. "I'm going to be a rodeo clown!"

"Bernie, I told you, no clowning!"

"Okay!" Gary snapped. He couldn't take another long-distance argument, though God knew it would be worse when he was smack-dab in the middle of it down in Hickory and it all happened in stereo. "Okay, fine, I'll come down tomorrow."

"Thank you, son. We love you!"

"Love you, too. G'night." He hung up the phone. "Happy?" he asked Marissa, then realized, thanks to her full-out smile, that yes, she was. So was Toni. "Both of you are way too happy about this."

"More like impressed," Toni said. "She played you like a pro."

"She is a pro," Marissa said. "Her exact words were, 'If he doesn't come and help us, we may not make it to our thirty-sixth anniversary.'"

Gary groaned.

"I have some time off this week," Toni told him. "Like Marissa said, we'll make it work. Go take a shower. Then we'll talk."

"I can't talk. I have to pack for Hickory."

"Then I'll come up and talk to you once I've finished my drink."

"At least you'll blend in with the rodeo, the way you smell," Marissa said cheerfully.<

"Couple of traitors," Gary muttered as he headed for his loft.

Toni arrived back at McGinty's the next morning, bright, early, and so confused she was on the verge of being pissed.

Yes, she had time off. Yes, she had agreed to help out with Gary's paper while he was party planning with his parents. She was looking forward to learning more about how it worked, and frankly, she enjoyed seeing him off kilter about it. For as much as he complained about the demands it made on his life, he didn't seem all that eager to leave it behind. So she'd gone to bed ready for a few days of messing with his magic—and his head.

What she hadn't been ready for was a loud meow and a plop outside her door before she'd had a chance to grind her coffee beans.

She hadn't been ready for the future to show up on her front porch.

"Don't forget there's another crosstown game this weekend," Gary was saying when she walked into the kitchen. "Tell the kitchen staff to order wings and that dip—"

"Blue cheese dressing and celery." Marissa sat a little slumped on a stool at one of the prep tables. She looked half awake, or maybe Gary was putting her to sleep with the minutia of bar running, something he never seemed to pay much attention to otherwise.

"You really need to lock your doors, Hobson. This is Chicago. Anyone could walk in and rob the place before you got the lunch prep done."

"Toni!" He turned pleading eyes to her. "Please tell me the paper came to you."

Marissa sat up straighter.

"It did." Toni dropped it on the table like the hot potato it was. "You want to tell me why?"

He blinked at her, as if he was waking up all over again. "I guess it knew it's your job today."

The newspaper knew? "How exactly would that happen?"

"It's because Gary did the right thing, agreeing to take a break," Marissa said. "This is the paper's way of telling us that." She wasn't quite as chipper as Toni would have expected after her eager agreement to this arrangement last night.

"Well?" Gary asked, looking at her expectantly.

"Well what?"

"What are the stories? What do you have to do?"

"I haven't read it yet."

"That's the first thing you have to do! What if there's something you need to deal with early? Or right now?" He started paging through it, his eyes tracking headlines at what had to be some kind of record speed.

"Relax, Hobson." Toni went over to the ever-present, ever-filled, coffee maker and poured herself a cup. "Exactly how stupid do you think I am? Of course I read it." She turned back to see him staring at her incredulously, with both hands braced on the table. "I skimmed it. There's nothing to worry about until midmorning."

Gary bit his lip. Definitely uneasy. She could use that to her long-term advantage. She shot him a cheeky grin to throw him off a little more. "Go help your mom make canapés and centerpieces. We've got this."

She reached for the paper, but he slid it closer to himself, flipping pages back and forth. "Okay, yeah, you're right about the time."

"I'm right about more than that."

Marissa snorted. Lost in his world of needlessly frantic planning, Gary ignored them both.

"There are four stories you need to take care of, and the first is a few hours away. So you have time to figure out your schedule. But you have to keep an eye on it." He closed the paper and jabbed at it with a finger. "It changes sometimes."

Toni sputtered coffee onto the prep table. "It what?"

"You didn't know?" Marissa asked her. "You didn't tell her?" she asked Gary.

"It hadn't come up yet," he said with a shrug, as if it were no big deal.

"You have to tell people these things!"

"I'm telling her now." He turned to Toni, ignoring Marissa's exasperated huff. "The paper changes sometimes. New stories show up, or the ones that are here first thing get worse."

"Or better," Marissa chimed in.

"Usually worse."

"How are you supposed to keep track of that?" Toni asked. "Doesn't it make all your planning useless?" Though it did, she supposed, go a long way to explaining how flustered he usually was when he showed up at her crime scenes.

He started ticking things off on his fingers. She didn't mind. His hands were among his best features. "Okay, so at eleven twenty-five, you have a delivery van jumping a curb and driving into the Potbelly's in Andersonville. They didn't have a name for the driver as of press time, but if you clear out everybody from the shop right beforehand, you'll limit the injuries to the driver. He has air bags, so it should be fine. Then you gotta get back to Lake Shore Drive, where that Porsche is going to jump the barriers and hit some kids skateboarding in Lincoln Park. It'll be best to clear the kids off the path instead of trying to stop the car, of course." He blinked at her, as if that deserved a response.

"Of course." Toni folded her arms over her chest and held steady.

"Yeah, so the other thing you can do is maybe find the driver's phone number, since his name is listed, and give him a call. Tell him to slow down, or try to keep him out of the area."

"Or I could call my friend Carla in Traffic Enforcement and have her set up a speed trap to catch and ticket the guy long before he jumps the barrier."

"You can do that?" He looked a little baffled, as though his brain had just caught up with his ears.

"I can do a lot of things that might surprise you," she said dryly.

"Okay, but then, you'll have to high-tail it back to the Loop--"

"From Andersonville?"

"From Lake Shore Drive."

"If the speed trap works, why would I have to go there? Let the kids skateboard in peace."

"I was thinking you might want to be at the park to make sure nothing else happens to the kids."

"Wouldn't that show up in your paper, too? Hobson, do you really—what am I saying? Of course you do."

"I do what?"

"Show up at every single little thing that's going to go wrong in Chicago, even if you've fixed them from a distance."

"Gary likes to micromanage," Marissa offered. "Make sure everyone's doing their job."

"Not me. I'm good with delegating." Toni couldn't quite hide her smile at the twitch in Gary's jaw. "So, the robbery?"

"Yeah, it's at--"

"She can read it for herself," Marissa cut in. "Weren't you hoping to get out of town before traffic gets too busy?"

"I have to make sure she knows the best way to handle this stuff. And there's still the kid who gets lost on the L. She gets off at the wrong stop after her dad falls asleep. They aren't sure which stop, and no one can find her. Poor kid's still missing tomorrow morning. Now that one, you really do have to be there. Get on the train, find the girl and sit nearby so when her father falls asleep you can wake him up."

"How am I supposed to know which kid it is?"

"You go to the Brown Line stop at Sedgwick, northbound platform. Be there at least fifteen minutes before the time they think she went missing. Look for the tired dad with a girl who seems to be--"

"I got it." She didn't bother to point out that the girl's name was in the paper, and with her contacts she could call the father ahead of time and tell him to have a cup of coffee. As much fun as she'd been having teasing him, it skirted the edge of cruelty to point out the obvious ways this newspaper gig could be so much easier for her. In the future, though, they were going to have a serious conversation about more efficient ways to be Chicago's civilian superhero.

"She's wearing a blue shirt." He picked up his coffee, turned the cup in his hands, and put it back down without taking a drink. "Look, maybe I should stay today. I can tag along with you so you can see how all works, and then tomorrow--"

"No," Marissa said it at the same time as Toni. "Gary, I promised your mother you'd be down there today. Toni obviously knows what she's doing, and she does have a resource who understands almost as well as you do how the paper works. Me," she added, when he didn't immediately acknowledge her. "I'm talking about me."

"Well, I know that, Marissa."

She arched an eyebrow. "But?"

He glanced from her to Toni and back. "It's just, that one time you tried to help, you got hurt."

"That was one time. Once. And it certainly wasn't the only time I've helped you out."

Gary seemed about to say something, but Marissa's expression darkened, and he must have thought the better of it. Lucky for him. "Uh, right. No buts. I'm going." He nabbed a set of keys from a hook on the wall behind Toni, picked up a duffle bag that was no doubt crammed with plaid shirts and jeans, and started for the door. Then turned back. "The thing is, the timing of the robbery and the girl getting lost, it's tight. And you haven't told me how you're going to stop the robbery." He looked expectantly at Toni.

"I'll stop the robbery, Hobson. You would have come to me anyway, right?"

"Uh, right." He turned to Marissa, whose arms were still crossed, whose mouth was still tight. "I guess you can handle the last one, Marissa, if you don't have class."

Her jaw worked. Toni wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but the tension was thick enough to slice. "For a lost little girl," Marissa finally said, "I will skip class."

"Good," Toni said before Gary could object. "That will give me time to check in at the precinct."

He cut her off with an irritated noise straight from his throat. "You said you have the day off."

"I won't if I'm nabbing a bunch of jewel thieves, will I?" She set her coffee mug on the prep table with a clonk. He could be so thickheaded about what police work entailed. "Unlike you, I'll have to fill out paperwork and process those yahoos, partly because that's my job, and mostly because I don't want them to try it somewhere else."

"Okay. If you're ever not sure what to do, look for Cat. He can show you the way. Sometimes."

"Like when he showed up at my front door this morning? Maybe you should take that as a sign that the paper's in good hands."

"What did you feed him? He likes tuna. I mean, I'm guessing you don't have cat food."

"I didn't feed your cat. That was never part of the bargain."

"I will take care of it," Marissa said. "Now stop micromanaging and get on the road. Don't forget your suit."

"Okay, yeah." He stepped into the office and emerged with a garment bag. "I guess I'll see you both on Sunday. Unless you need me for something. It's just a few hours, so don't hesitate to call, you hear me?"

"Actually, your mom invited us to come down for the party," Marissa said.

"When did she say that? When you were selling me out?"

Toni had only met Lois Hobson once, and it had been enough to convince her that Gary's mother was as pushy as her own, albeit in a small town, WASPish way. Emphasis on the W.

"She called while you were getting dressed to make sure you're coming," Marissa said. "And to ask if you'd bring some wine glasses."

"Some?"

"Her exact words were, 'Several dozen.'"

"But that's—" He slung his luggage over his shoulder and pulled two boxes off the top of a high shelf. "How many people is she inviting to this little shindig?"

"I didn't get a head count. But if you ask me, we have the easier job here."

"You're not kidding." He reached to pull a third box off the high shelf, but the two he was carrying started to wobble. Toni darted over and braced them while he nabbed a third box. Together they rearranged the stack so he could carry it. He looked at her over the tower in his arms—over and down, he was that much taller—and managed, finally, to look a little sheepish. "Thanks."

"Trust us. Go."

"All right, I, uh--" There was an awkward beat when she thought maybe he was going to kiss her, breaking six dozen wine glasses in the attempt. Not that she would have cared about the glasses until she had to clean them up.

But one of them had to keep everything under control. "Call us, okay?" she asked. He gulped and nodded and was out the door she held open for him with one last good-bye. She turned back to Marissa, who was heaving a sigh—of relief, Toni assumed, though a faint scowl was still etched on her face.

"I don't have to leave for Andersonville for a few hours. Want to go shopping first?"

"Sure." Marissa stood, holding herself a little stiffly. She was peeved, and there was a ninety-nine percent chance it was with Gary, but Toni wasn't entirely sure why. "I'll need to get everyone started on prep here first, but the kitchen staff will be here right before the stores over on Michigan open."

"That'll give me time to call Carla and take care of the Porsche driver." Toni refilled her coffee. "If Hobson thinks I'm going to hang out on Lake Shore Drive looking for speeders, he's got another think coming."

"That's true about a lot of things," Marissa muttered as she led the way into the office. "You can use the phone on Gary's desk."

"Thanks." Toni sat down, but instead of picking up the phone, she regarded Marissa over the rim of her coffee mug, waiting until she'd settled into her seat and turned on her computer to ask, with timing born of a hundred interrogations, "So what happened that one time?"

Marissa usually felt a sense of relief talking with Toni about anything to do with the paper. Even though she'd only known about it for a short time, she approached it practically, as a job that needed to be done, and she accepted the demands it made on Gary's time in a way that Erica never had. Still, it wasn't easy to tell Toni what had happened during the citywide blackout. Gary always talked about how good she was at being a cop—and at saving the day. As she admitted she'd nearly gotten herself killed because of a mistaken belief in her own competence, Marissa braced herself for Toni's approbation, or worse, pity.

Instead, Toni listened to the whole thing without interruption, then asked, "This happened how long ago?"

"Almost two years ago." The back door opened, and she heard Andy and Jenn punch the time clock
out in the kitchen, chatting amicably. Andy called good morning, and she answered. The sounds of unloading, chopping, and pouring provided a familiar undertone to their conversation.

"You saved those kids' lives," Toni said. "He's still holding it against you?"

"Not so much me as the paper," Marissa hedged. "He's trying to protect me from it, which is why it's so hard to talk to him about it. He said we were partners afterward, in the bar anyway, but I think deep down it reinforced his conviction that he has to take care of the paper alone as much as possible." It was only now that she said it out loud that she realized how true that was. Gary had certainly relied on her for advice and occasional assistance since that day. But he only asked her to take full responsibility as a last resort when he was in the most desperate straits. Even then he made sure she had someone sighted, someone male, or, in Toni's case, someone in law enforcement.

"If he thinks he's on his own, or that he should be, he's wrong. You helped him on a day when everything went to crap. You and I both know that's not the only time that's happened."

"He knows it, too," she acknowledged. "But he stays focused on one thing that went wrong, instead of all the things that went right."

"Then this isn't about you, specifically," Toni said. "He'll figure it out, especially since there are two of us on his side now, and between us we can handle anything the paper throws our way. Let me make a couple calls and we can head to the shops."

Turning down Toni's help with the paper would make her no better than Gary, especially when the paper had chosen Toni to take lead during his absence. That still stung, but she was inclined to keep it to herself. So she merely nodded.

She paid a handful of invoices and made sure the morning crew was on track while Toni called her friend in traffic enforcement andtracked down a number for Sam Jaworski, the father of the little girl who was going to get lost on the L early that afternoon. The story about the skateboarding kids getting hit by the Porsche disappeared, but Sam Jaworski didn't answer his home phone, and his little girl, Annie, was still going to go missing.

"Like I said, I can work on that one while you handle the robbery," Marissa said.

"Sounds good to me," Toni said without a hint of hesitation or a single question about how she planned to do that. She just recited Mr. Jaworski's number so Marissa could enter it into her cell phone, then asked, "Ready to do some damage to your bank account?"

She told Toni about her APA presentation on the importance of early detection of clinical depression in teenagers and effective intervention strategies while they walked over to the stores on Michigan Avenue. "I like it," Toni said. "You're keeping those kids out of my hair. I'm glad we're on the same side."

It didn't take long to find a dress that they both liked; a scoop-necked fitted bodice with cap sleeves and a pencil skirt that hit her at the knee. Toni claimed the soft yellow color worked with her skin tone and hair. Marissa liked the way it felt—dressed up and adult, with a fit that would allow her to move her arms while she spoke. "You know the single woman's trick with that back zipper, right?" Toni asked as she pulled it down so Marissa could change back into her own clothes.

"I have a ribbon on a safety pin in the top drawer of my dresser for exactly that reason."

"Atta girl. Now, shoes?"

"I have wedges. I'm not going to risk falling on my face in front of all those people."

"They're the ones who'll be falling down, because you'll knock 'em dead," Toni assured her. A few minutes later, as Marissa handed her credit card to the saleswomen, she asked, "So you're good? Because I should get going. Much as I hate to admit it, I think Hobson was right about needing to be in Andersonville to do what I can about that accident."

"We're better than good." Marissa took the dress, safely encased in plastic, from the saleswoman, and Reilly's harness from Toni. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"It was fun, especially since it's not my money. And you—look, I don't mean to sound like Hobson, but you're okay with the kid who gets lost on the L? Because if you need help I'll figure something out."

"No, I've got it. I'll check in at McGinty's and try to call her father again. If I don't reach him, I'll go up to Sedgwick and take care of it there. Good luck with the accident. And the robbery—be careful with that one."

"Unlike some people, I know how to call in back up, and actually have a cell phone to do it with. I'll let you know how it all goes as soon as I get the chance."

"Same here."

A few hours later, with the lunch rush winding down, Marissa tried calling Sam Jaworski one more time. There was still no answer, so she harnessed Reilly and made her way to the Merchandise Mart, where she took a Brown Line train north to the Sedgwick stop. She spent the ride planning several possible strategies for finding the girl, and then trying to decide what would be the best thing to do once she did. In the end, she knew, she'd have to introduce herself into the situation and follow her best instincts from there—something she'd learned from Gary. Maybe admitting that to him would ease some of his worrying about letting her, or anyone else, deal with the paper.

The paper had said the girl and her father got on the L at Sedgwick around 1:45, headed north. She reached the stop at 1:20 and got off the train, pacing up and down the platform and listening for a child's voice. Two trains came and went without any sign of Sam and Annie Jaworski, and even though she knew the time in the paper was an approximation given by a distressed father, she started to worry she'd missed them. Reilly seemed to be wondering what was happening as well; he kept trying to lead her to the steps down to street level each time she looped around toward them.

"Where are they?" she asked, unsure if she was asking Reilly or the universe. It certainly wasn't as if she could ask the paper.

Shortly after a third train rumbled away from the stop, a set of footsteps approached. A cautious female voice said, "Hi, excuse me? I'm with the CTA. Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. I ride the L all the time."

"Of course. It's just that—I saw you get off a northbound train a while back, and if you wait here, that's all that'll come through, are the north trains. I'm not trying to kick you off," the woman added hurriedly. "Just want to see if there's anything you need."

Marissa forced a smile. She must be projecting impatience to everyone. "Thank you, I'm okay. Just waiting for a friend."

"Okay, great." The woman started to walk away, but then it hit Marissa: maybe the paper was sending help the only way it could.

"There is one thing," she called after the woman, and the footsteps halted. "If you see a little girl in a blue shirt, can you let me know?"

"There's one who just came on the platform now. She's with a man. Is that your friend?"

"I think so." Better to hedge that bet, if the woman overheard her introducing herself to a stranger. "Thanks so much." She walked slowly toward the entrance, not wanting to miss the Jaworskis. "Okay, Reilly, you're up," she said in a low tone. "Do your cutest tail wag."

Reilly couldn't understand her, of course. But he must have known something was up, because he slowed his walk instead of trying to get her down the stairs. Marissa heard a high, delighted gasp just to her right.

"Puppy!" Right on cue.

"Annie, no, that dog's at work," a man said, sending a jolt of relief through Marissa with the little girl's name. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Happens all the time." Marissa turned to face the tracks, to signal she was waiting for a train. "She's welcome to pet him while we wait. Can you let me know if the next train is Brown Line or Purple? I need to get to Irving Park."

"Uh, sure. Sure." Whether out of politeness or unthinking acceptance of the request for help, he didn't point out that the trains were announced on the loudspeaker.

"We're going home," Annie chirped up. "Our stop is the one that starts with P, right, Daddy?"

"No, baby, Addison. It starts with A, like your name."

"That's right. We learned about P in preschool today. Puppy starts with P. Yours is so soft!"

Reilly's tail thwapped against Marissa's leg. He was a sucker for kids. "Thanks so much," she said to Sam Jaworski. "I don't always know who to trust, but I figure if you have your little girl with you it must be okay."

His chuckle sounded tired. "She's a little too friendly for her own good sometimes, but I'm glad we could help. Here's a Brown train."

"I'm four," Annie said over the rattle of the incoming train. "We're having mac and cheese for supper. What's your dog's job?"

They boarded the train and sat together. Marissa answered Annie's rapid-fire questions about Reilly and being blind and where she worked and what she was having for dinner as they rode north, drawing Sam into the conversation when she could. A couple times, when his answers were either slow or startled, she thought he might have been close to drifting off. Annie certainly didn't need a response to keep going, and Marissa could see how Sam might have fallen into a deep sleep if he was already exhausted, lulled by the rocking of the train and his daughter's stream of chatter.

"Is this the A stop?" Annie asked when the announcement came that they were approaching Addison.

"Good listening," Marissa told her.

"That's what Mrs. Evers says. I am a very good listener in preschool. Let's go, Daddy. Bye, Reilly!" Annie gave the grateful dog one last pat on the head and jumped up as the train slowed to a stop. "I hope you have mac and cheese for supper, too. Reilly told me it's his favorite."

"Thanks for talking to her," Sam said. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yes. Mine is the next stop. Take care, you two." She scratched behind Reilly's ears as they rode to Irving Park, where she'd be able to catch another train back to the Merchandise Mart. "Good job, boy, but I don't know about mac and cheese. Maybe an extra treat."

"So you just went up and talked to the guy on the L platform?" Gary twisted the phone cord around his fingers as he paced around the end table in the living room where he'd grown up. His parents hadn't switched to cordless. Why should they, Bernie always said, when the yellow rotary phone worked just as well as it always had? "You're lucky he didn't think you were about to nab his kid."

"Maybe if it was you," Marissa said. He couldn't tell if her voice sounded higher than usual because of the long distance connection, or because she was annoyed with him. "He didn't have any reason to be suspicious of a blind woman asking for his help."

"What if he was? He might have called the police."

"The police," she deadpanned. Definitely annoyed. "Like, say, Toni Brigatti?"

"Why didn't she handle it in the first place?"

"She's taking care of other stories, one of which requires her to do paperwork. She can't just save-and-dash like you. She's at the station now, processing the jewel thieves and trying to explain to her captain how she just happened to stumble on a robbery attempt in a store full of stuff she can't afford on her salary."

"Shoot, I never wanted to get her in trouble. Do you guys need me up there?"

"Gary. We are fine. We handled the stories in the paper, and now she's handling the paperwork and I'm handling the dinner rush." Marissa drew in an audible breath, a sound that meant she was calling on reserves of patience he probably didn't deserve. "How are your parents?"

"Same as ever." He glanced through the archway to the kitchen table, where his mom and dad were arguing about a bag of crepe paper streamers. Lois kept saying they weren't classy, not to mention they were the wrong colors. "I think my mom's been arranging this for months. My dad went to K-Mart for decorations, but she already had what she wants stashed away in the attic. She has me running up and down the ladder while he tries to tell her crepe paper streamers are the height of elegance."

"They are!" Bernie boomed. "I got purple and blue, her favorite color and mine."

"This is not about our favorites, Bernie. It's about our theme!"

"Sounds like they need you to referee if they're going to make it to their anniversary," Marissa said. "Go help them out, Gary. The paper and the bar are both in good hands."

"Okay. Thanks," he added, but he wasn't sure if she heard it before she hung up.

"Where are you getting sunflowers this time of year?" Bernie was saying as Gary headed back into the kitchen.

"From the florist." Lois's exasperated tone suggested just how many questions she'd parried that day alone. She pushed the bag across the table to Bernie and pulled a photo album out of the box on the chair next to her. "They special ordered them from a greenhouse in Georgia."

"How much is that gonna cost me? C'mon, Lo, we've got tulips coming up in the front yard." He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me, I'm supposed to help Birdie Eledge clean out her flower beds today. She wants to put in zinnias but she can't spend as much time kneeling on the ground as she used to."

"I don't want tulips. I want sunflowers. You can return those streamers on your way to Birdie's. Bring me back a bottle of chardonnay."

"Just one bottle? You had me bring six dozen wine glasses." Gary slid into the chair Bernie had vacated.

"That particular bottle is for me. It won't last me the afternoon if he keeps this up." She drew a computer printout out from under a stack of little cards with people's names written on them in her precise handwriting. "Bernie, stop at the high school on your way and drop off this list of music for Mr. Hefner. He's putting together a small group from the high school jazz band to play standards at the dance."

Bernie turned from the hook by the back door, shoving a baseball cap onto his head. "I thought we agreed on my barbershop quartet. Bill's getting his banjo tuned!"

Lois made the face she usually reserved for food that had too much salt. "I never agreed to that at all. No one can dance to a banjo. Besides, they won't be a quartet without you. Just a trio."

"Who said I wasn't singing with them? Wait 'til you hear the number we worked up, Gar. It's gonna blow the doors off this party." He left before Lois could comment on that, humming a song that sounded like a parade march from World War I.

"I swear he does that just to put me on edge." Lois slid the stack of cards over to Gary. "Fold these in half, nice and neat. I don't want wobbly name cards on my tables."

Gary gave a dutiful nod and started folding, careful to line up the corners. "You sure he's gonna drop off your list?"

"I already emailed it. I'm just trying to keep him out of my hair."

"You've been planning this for a long time, huh?"

"A couple months."

"Why'd you wait until this week to spring it on us?"

"Because I knew how he'd be about it. You, too. Besides, if you want something done right, it's best to do it yourself."

A squiggle of guilt wormed through his chest. He smoothed the fold he'd just made a few times. "I guess I could've—should've—put something together at McGinty's for you guys."

Lois blinked up from the photos she was studying. "Don't be silly, Gary. Our friends are here, and family's on the way. Your Aunt Jane and Uncle Dave are coming up from St. Louis. Jane was my bridesmaid." She pulled a photo from its plastic page and handed it to him. She and Bernie smiled from the steps of a church, with Aunt Jane and Bill Gibson, who'd been Bernie's best friend and best man, standing just behind them. They were all squinting a bit into bright sunlight. "I think that one will work, don't you?"

"For what?"

"I'm making a photo collage for the table with the guest book."

"Yeah, it's great. You're really going all out, huh?"

"There were a lot of things I couldn't have at that wedding. I'd planned on a fall theme with sunflowers and yellow bridesmaids' dresses, but we had to push it up while I could still fit in my grandmother's wedding dress." She pointed to her bouquet. "And we did use flowers from my parents' front yard."

Gary had only found out a year ago that he'd been conceived while his parents were engaged. "So I, uh, I guess that's my fault, huh?"

"Don't be silly. It's not as if you had a say in it." She traced her outline in the photo with a fond smile. "I've always been glad that you're in our wedding photos."

"Okay, well, I just—I'm realizing…" He trailed off, tapping a card on the table, while he searched for words to name what he was feeling. It wasn't guilt, which his mom was a pro at inducing when she wanted to. This was different. "I know I was a surprise, and I threw off the plans you had. Not just for the wedding." He spread his hands wide. "For everything. I know how a surprise like that can upend your whole life."

Lois nailed him with a shrewd look. "I suppose you do. Marcia didn't give you any warning, did she?"

"I was thinking more of the paper."

"That's a much better comparison."

"What makes you say that?"

"Gary." His name was affectionate and wry. "You were the kind of surprise that upended our life in the best possible way. Like the paper did for you."

"I don't think—" He rubbed the back of his head, remembering all the times he'd complained about the paper. And a few of the times it had made his life better. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am. You don't think I see these things, but I know when my own child is happy. And you might need to give yourself a break like this more often, but overall, Gary, you're happier now than you ever were with Marcia." When he didn't respond, she added, "Can you see yourself putting on a tie every morning and working in an office again? Because I certainly can't."

"No. No, that's not going to happen if I can help it. I mean, if I was still working at Strauss, I wouldn't be able to help you out like this, would I?" She beamed at him, and all of a sudden he was twelve, relishing the look on her face when he'd won the Sun-Times essay contest.

He picked up the photo again. His mom had been younger than he'd been when he married Marcia. "This was Grandma's wedding dress?" It was simple, white with a high neck and long sleeves, and a skirt that hung straight down from the waist to her ankles. "It doesn't exactly look like your style."

Lois shrugged. "It was the best option. My mom had worn it, too, and it wasn't as though your father and I could afford a new one, especially on short notice."

"Are you wearing it Saturday?

"I haven't been able to fit into it since two weeks after that wedding," she said with a rueful chuckle. "And as lovely as it is, you're right, it never was my style. Don't frown at me like that. We made the best of it, and I've never regretted marrying your father or having you."

But for all her protestations, or maybe because of them, he suddenly understood what this fall-themed party in the middle of spring was all about. He stood and dug his keys out of his pocket. "What's that place in Fort Wayne you're always talking about? Bailey's Boutique?"

"Bella's."

"Okay, Bella's." He held out his hand to her. "Let's go."

"What for?"

"To get you a dress for Saturday. Something you choose for yourself."

Lois's snort was the same one she'd used when he'd asked for an Atari system for his fourteenth birthday. "I can't afford a pair of socks from Bella's, let alone a formal dress."

"You're not paying for it, Mom. I am."

"But Gary—"

"No buts." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I want to do this. I was the one who upended all your plans, after all."

"That you were." She beamed again, a full-on MomBlast. "Thank you, son."

"For the dress, or for upending your life?"

"A little bit of both." She kissed his cheek. "Grab that box of extra craft supplies from the attic. We can drop it off at the Boys and Girls Club on our way out of town."