“Quiet! I don’t know why you talk to me like that.”

Jill suppressed an eye roll at her mother’s denial of their marital issues.

“Now. As you know, he’s turning sixty in November, and we’re throwing him a party here at the house. I will take care of the guest list. You will work with the caterer.”

“Me?” Jill almost choked on the sip of wine. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I don’t have time and because you’re his daughter, you need to be involved.”

“Stepdaughter. Make Ford do it. Where is he? Shouldn’t he be helping as well?” While she had never been close with her younger half-brother, he’d always been a good deflection for her mother’s judgment.

“Your brother is too busy. He just started his new job.”

“And you don’t think I’m busy? I actually work, and unlike him, I’m not on the golf course three days a week.”

“Stop arguing. Networking is important. You will do this.” Her mother stood and left the dining room. When she returned, she dropped a business card on the table next to Jill’s plate. “You have a meeting there Tuesday at eight in the morning.”

Jill didn’t even bother looking at the card before snatching it up. She tossed her napkin on the table and stood. “I’m not hungry and I need to get home. Goodnight, Mother.” She stormed out of the house and got in the car, tossing the business card into her work bag on the passenger seat. She drove home with a mixture of frustration and determination. If her mother wanted her to do most of the work, then at least it would get done right.

Entering her condo, Jill immediately went upstairs to her bedroom to change into thick socks, worn sweatpants, and a long-sleeve T-shirt to combat the chill of her air conditioner. She wiggled her toes as she poured herself a glass of pinot noir. Grabbing her bag, she collapsed on the couch and took a breath from her whirlwind day. She closed her eyes and took a sip of wine, feeling the day’s stress drain away a little.

During moments like this, she typically ran through lists of things to do, but tonight her thoughts first drifted to her scramble for lunch and the woman who swooped in and saved the day. And then I had to go and be myself, acting like an asshole. Reagan was cute, with dark blond hair she’d pulled into a messy bun, a fair complexion with a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and hazel eyes. Eyes that were kind but held a hint of something. Sadness? Exhaustion? Whatever it was, she hadn’t let it affect the way she had interacted with Jill.