Reagan headed down to her car. Nerves threatened to overtake her as she made her way to Jillian’s. Maybe I should just email her. But she discarded the thought as curiosity won out. Maybe she could get a better glimpse of the real Jill.

Reagan pulled up to a beautiful building that was a mixture of old and new. The bottom half had large columns, ornate windows and housed a lawyer’s office. The top half held condos with tall windows and large balconies. It was more modern and looked as if it was added several years ago.

She pulled open the heavy doors into a marble-floored lobby. To her right was the door to the lawyer’s office and just ahead to her left were elevators. Within seconds of pressing the button, the first set of elevator doors opened, and she stepped in, hitting the button for the eighth floor. Of course she lives on the top floor. Stepping into the hallway, she realized there were only doors to two condos on this floor and Jill’s was at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice. She adjusted her messenger bag on her shoulder after several seconds passed and there was still no sign of Jill. Just as she raised her hand to knock again, the door opened to a slightly disheveled but adorable Jill. Her hair was up in a loose bun, and she wore leggings, an oversize sweatshirt, and wire-framed glasses.

“Reagan,” Jill said, her voice a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat, stood a little straighter, and spoke again. “What are you doing here?”

She pulled out the invoice from her bag. “Your mother added a few more guests to the list. She told me to give you the invoice. When I stopped by your office, Ash said I should drop by and give it to you.”

Jill muttered what sounded like, “I’m sure they did.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’ll take it,” Jill replied as she reached for the paper.

Reagan snatched it back as she studied her more. “Wait. Are you sick?”

“I’m fine. I…I…” Her words ended as she loudly sneezed into the crook of her elbow.

“Shit. You are sick. Do you need anything? Tissues? Soup?”

“Ms. Murphy, I—”

Reagan held up her hand. “It’s Reagan.”

Jill sighed. “Reagan, I don’t need anything.”

She used the back of her hand to feel Jill’s forehead, and Jill closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. “You’re burning up. Get inside and I’ll check you out.”

“This is really not necess…” Jill replied, but she began coughing hard and turned away to cover her mouth.