Forty minutes later, Maggie stepped out of the shower because she’d used up all the hot water. She dried her hair, brushed her teeth three times, and gargled with Listerine before she dressed in a set of fleece workout clothes even though it was July. It was all about being warm and staying warm, with no comeback chills. She wasn’t going anywhere, so it didn’t matter what she wore. All she wanted was to feel warm and better. A mere second later, she realized that she did feel better. So much better, her thoughts went to coffee and scrambled eggs, which she made and consumed in record time, her cat Hero watching her from his perch on the windowsill.

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.