“Money,” Jillian muttered.

Reagan furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

Jillian cleared her throat and leaned forward with her forearms on the table. “She’ll want everything to be the best. So show me the best.”

“Right,” Reagan drew the word out. “Does she prefer modern or a more classic look?”

“Classic.”

“Okay. Colors—bright, pastel, rustic, dark?”

“Definitely not bright or pastel. Maybe navy or maroon.”

“Okay. Again, going classic. No problem there. What about plates? Do you want ones with designs? Or plain?”

“No plain. That would be too simple. But too much of a design would look gaudy.”

“Understood.” Reagan sat back, glancing over the notes she had just made while holding her chin in her hand. After a quick moment, she stacked up her papers and set them to the side. “Okay. I think I’ve got a good idea. I’ll set up some options on the other end of the table. It’ll be a few minutes, so would you like me to get you something to drink? Coffee or water?”

“No, I’m fine,” she replied before taking out her phone and giving all her attention to it.

Guess that’s my cue to start. She moved around the table looking at plates first. She quickly nixed the solid white and floral options. Then she went to the other side and tossed any bright or pastel linens back in their box.

She opened a box from the corner and went about setting up place settings in front of empty chairs. Within a few minutes, she had set out three sample combinations of tablecloths, napkins, and china and silverware settings. She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward, reviewing her choices. She looked up to find Jillian staring at her. Well, not at her exactly, but at her chest. She glanced down and saw she was showing off a bit of cleavage with the top two buttons undone. Heat shot up her cheeks, and she stood up, clearing her throat to get Jillian’s attention.

“I, um, I think these are our best choices after narrowing down everything from your mother’s preferences. All are classic with just a hint of modern and colors that aren’t too flashy. They’re bold, but just the right amount. What do you think?”

Reagan’s question snapped Jill out of a trance she hadn’t realized she’d been in. Either Reagan had sped through setting up the options or Jill had gotten lost in her perusal of Reagan’s body. Judging by Reagan’s blush, she was pretty sure Reagan had caught her staring at her breasts.

“Are these not okay? Or do you want me to find something else?”