As Reagan finished her burger, Trent dropped off the bill in the middle of the table. “I’ll take this whenever you’re ready.”

Jill snatched it before Reagan moved an inch.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s nothing.” Jill placed several bills in the book and stood up from the table.

Before she could reply, Jill was halfway across the restaurant. With an eye roll, Reagan settled into her seat to finish her beer in a more comfortable silence. Glad I don’t have to see her again.

“Have a good lunch?”

Jill strode past Ash and into her office with no acknowledgment. She needed to forget about her awkward lunch, never mind the pleasing view across the table. Instead, she needed to focus on the pile of work waiting for her. Looking up from her phone, she came to a stop.

“Who the hell are you?” Jill found a woman sitting at her desk and doing god knows what with her computer.

“I’m C-Carly?”

“Is that a question?” Jill crossed her arms.

The woman cleared her throat. “No. I’m Carly. From IT. Just installing your new system.”

“About damn time. I asked for a new computer months ago. What took so long?”

“I-I’m not sure. This is only my first day.”

“That’s just great.” Jill pointed at Carly. “You better install everything correctly. I don’t have time to deal with your incompetence. Ash, get in here.”

Carly continued to do whatever nerdy thing she was doing while Jill plopped down in a chair at a small table on the other side of the office. Ash sat next to her, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen and making notes of everything Jill said. Meetings needed to be scheduled, research needed to be done, and proposals needed to be created. With every task she listed, the notion of getting to enjoy any part of her weekend faded away.

After an hour of conferring with Ash, Jill looked up to see that the woman from IT had left. Cathy? Carla? Whatever. Ash walked out of the office and Jill sat at her desk, silently thanking her for the new, speedy system. Maybe she’d be able to get things done sooner if she didn’t have to fight with her computer.

By seven p.m., she began feeling good about the state of things. There was plenty to do, but it seemed a little less daunting. As she was packing up some papers to take home, her cell rang and she answered without looking at the screen.

“Jillian Jacobs.”

“Jillian, it’s your mother. Come to dinner tonight. Seven thirty sharp.”