Maggie leaned over and turned on the television sitting on her kitchen counter. Time to see what was going on in the real world. She marveled at the fact that she hadn’t turned on the set in almost a week. She hadn’t checked her e-mail or voice mail either. The world could be coming to an end, and she’d never know. Or care. Just the sound of people talking hurt her head. She also hadn’t talked to anyone on the phone. Strange, now that she thought of it, that no one had called her the whole time she was sick. None of the sisters, or the boys. Not even Ted. That was so unlike him. Then she remembered that she’d called in to the Post, said she was sick and was taking a few sick days, and the first person who called her or showed up at her door risked being shot. She grimaced at the memory. How weird that they’d taken her at her word. Especially Ted. Unless he was off on assignment. But that didn’t explain mother hens Myra and Annie, who normally would be fussing all over her.

Maggie poured a fresh cup of coffee as she pondered her circumstances. It was Friday. Nothing happened in the newsroom on Friday, or the weekend, for that matter. Especially in the middle of July. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had a recollection of someone, maybe Annie, telling her to take the entire week off when she’d called in sick. If she was remembering correctly, that meant she had three days, counting today, before she was due back at work on Monday. She worried a stray strand of hair with her index finger as she mentally calculated how many hours she had to while away before she had to report to work on Monday. Counting today, give or take seventy-two. To her way of thinking, that was a lifetime. Almost eternity. She wasn’t used to sitting around or being sick. She must be getting old. The thought was very alarming, and she jumped up so fast that Hero hopped off the windowsill and ran for cover.

Right then and there, Maggie decided her life pretty much sucked. Big time.

Maggie knew what she needed to do. Move. Do something besides eat. Maybe she needed some fresh air. Take a walk around the yard. Go outside, sit on the stoop, and wait for a dog walker to go by for some conversation. One look out the window told her that wasn’t going to happen, since it was pouring rain.

Maggie plucked her cell phone from the charger to see if she’d had any calls that had gone to voice mail while she’d hibernated. She was stunned to see that she had forty-two messages. Listening to them would eat up an hour. “Better than nothing,” she mumbled to herself as she made her way into her family room and flopped down on the couch.

No calls from the sisters or the boys. So they’d done what she asked them to do; therefore, she couldn’t complain. They’d left her alone to her misery. All the calls were from friends, tips on possible happenings, crank calls, political calls. A dental reminder. A call from Hero’s vet to say his special cat food had come in and she could pick it up at any time. Well, there was no hurry on that, since she still had at least two weeks’ worth in the pantry. Hero wasn’t going to starve anytime soon.