She handed it back to Marisa with a shrug. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about.”

Marisa pulled a small bag from her purse. “I’ve got one dose each of zinc, Echinacea, vitamins C and D, and garlic. Want any of them?”

Savannah glanced at her water, then held out her hand. “I’ll take them all. Might as well.” She chewed down the Ricola, then swallowed the handful of capsules. The band reached the final chorus, and she quickly reapplied the lipstick Marisa offered her, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Adrenaline was kicking in, soothing the dull ache behind her eyes and chasing away the feeling of uneasiness that came with knowing her immune system was being hacked.

The song ended, and a moment later the lights dimmed and the opening video illuminated the screen behind the stage. Savannah closed her eyes again, centering herself and spending one last minute in prayer. Just get me through the day, Lord. Keep my voice and body strong. I don’t care if I’m sick for the rest of the month, just keep me healthy today.

She stood and straightened the ruby red jacket of her pantsuit before climbing the stairs to the stage. The video ended, the audience burst into applause, and the lights came up, activating the performer in her. “Thank you, ladies,” she called out, waving and basking in the heat of the lights and the attention of five thousand women hanging on her every word, “and welcome to the last day of this summer’s Women of the Word conference.”

More applause, and her impending cold was forgotten. For the next forty minutes, Savannah was home.

SHAUN TROVER RAN A HAND through his hair and stared hard at the floor. “Think,” he muttered. “Come on, think.” He walked back to his den and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, the spot where the checkbook should be and where he had already looked three times. Still empty. Of course it is. Come on, think.

He sat down and scrolled through his online calendar, looking for something that might remind him of the last check he’d written. And there it was. He closed his eyes, walking step by step through that afternoon. The phone rang, just as I pulled it out of the drawer. The sudden memory made him smile – finally, some hope. I remember taking that message on the kitchen counter-