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going to get a bigger place?”
    “I not need bigger place.” Mei set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “We needed bigger place when you grow up, but not so much now.”
    Although Mei had been in the states for over thirty years, being shy, she’d had little interaction with the public and would probably never perfect the English language. Ling’s parents were private people who worked hard. When there was a day off, they spent it with each other.
    Being three inches shorter than Ling, Mei’s curious half-moon eyes looked up into her daughter’s. “So?”
    “So?” Ling mimicked.
    Mei slapped Ling’s arm playfully. “You not make fun of mother. Not respectful.”
    The tea kettle hummed softly and moved quickly to a higher pitch. Mei grabbed the handle of the pot and took it off the stove. She poured hot water into two hand-painted china tea cups.
    Ling dipped the tea bag in and out of each cup a few times. “Okay, Ms. Detective, I did meet a new friend. His name is Caleb.”
    “Oh.” Mei’s eyes grew wide, the dark bags underneath them folding into creases. “That nice name.”
    Ling wrapped her fingers inside the delicate handle of the cup. “Why do you want me married off? Wouldn’t you miss me?”
    “I want grandbabies.” Mei took the steaming cup of tea with her as she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She pulled out a chair that sat on one side of the small dining room table, set her cup down, and adjusted the belt on her worn terry-cloth robe.
    Ling looked out the window at the familiar streetlights. The bright red paper lanterns strung over the streets swayed in sync with the gentle breeze. “It would be hard to leave here, wouldn’t it?” Ling asked.
    Mei gazed out the window, her eyes glazing over as if decades of memories played through her head. “This is home.” She nodded across the street at the sign with the bright yellow words Old Shanghai Restaurant written on it. “We would miss too much.” She brought the tea cup to her lips. “You like new boy?”
    “Mom” Ling answered. “Remember, I’m twenty-eight. I just met him, so I have no idea.”
    A knowing smile crossed Mei’s face. “Oh, we know. Chinese know. I know the first time I see your father.”
    “You knew you were going to marry my father the first time you met him?”
    “Ah, yes. He have eyes for me. I have eyes for him.”
    Ling reached across the table and laid her hand over her mother’s blue-veined hand. “It’s a whole new world now.”
    Mei put up a finger. “Ahhh … not so different.” She clasped Ling’s hand in hers and squeezed. “Not so different.”
    “I need to get some sleep,” Ling said and stood. Her mother walked her to the door. Ling leaned over and kissed Mei on the forehead. “Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”
    Mei pointed an arthritic finger at Ling. “You’ll know one day. You’ll know when you have own daughter.”
    “I know, Mama, I know.” Ling blew Mei a kiss and closed the door.
    Ling walked across the hallway and opened the door to her own apartment. Shoes were lined up to the right of the door; a black wrought iron coat hanger stood on the left. The one-bedroom apartment was small, yet homey. Framed pictures of Ling with her parents and grandmother were perched on the two windowsills in the living room-kitchen combination. A tweed sectional took up most of the space in the living area. Classic, romance, and self-help books filled the bookcase sandwiched against one wall.
    She liked him, Ling thought as she took off her sandals and pushed them back in line with her other shoes. Caleb was a little shy, yet warm and open. He was also very handsome. Good looks attracted her, but if there wasn’t more to someone than that, it had never been enough to keep Ling interested.
    She plopped down on the couch, picked up the remote on the coffee table, and hugged it to her chest. Staring up at the ceiling fan, Ling thought about how she’d