Right back in her vocabulary, as I soon discover, means “Whenever I get around to it.” Three days later, on a sunny Friday afternoon, she still hasn’t returned my call. Honestly, I’m getting a little worried. Considering how much in a hurry she was to get divorced, you’d think she wouldn’t ignore my calls unless she was in trouble or something.

I’m downtown shopping for Garrett and Leslie’s engagement present for the party tomorrow night when, what do you know, I spot Mary Thomas herself coming out of Eataly, a fancy food store that sells Italian specialties. She has a man on her arm, and they’re looking into each other’s eyes like two lost love birds. I smile to myself, worries vanishing into the wind. She’s not in trouble—she’s met someone! In the excitement of her new relationship, she must’ve forgotten our appointment, or to return my message. Love does that to people.

I watch as he feeds her a spoonful of gelato from his cup.

Yep, definitely two turtle doves.

I hate to crash her date, but if Mrs. Thomas wants to start a new life with that nice man, she’d better put her soon to be ex-husband well and forever in her past.

And I can help her turn that page for good. No matter how unpleasant the task, or how taken by her new relationship she might be, she’ll thank me in the end. And since she won’t return my calls or show up for her appointments, it seems the only way I can finalize her divorce is to remind her about the missing signature right now, when I have access to her.

I cross the street over to their side, calling, “Mrs. Thomas!”

Mary looks at me and pales. Wait, is she trying to avoid me? Yep, she’s steering her companion away, pretending she hasn’t seen me. Why? Is it because I know she’s still technically married, and she’s ashamed of being with someone new before the divorce papers are finalized?

I’m not one to be discouraged easily, so I run after her, still calling, “Mrs. Thomas! Mary Thomas!”

Mary tries to keep going, but the man tugs at her arm, slowing her down so I can catch up with them. As I approach, I hear him saying, “What’s wrong? You look so pale.”

“I’m fine, I just—” Mary cuts herself off as I reach their side. “Hello,” she says warily.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Thomas,” I say. “I expected you at my office on Wednesday. Did something happen? I left you a message but never heard from you.”

“Oh, right.” She’s still looking at me with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights scared look, her smile tense. “I should’ve called you, but this week has been crazy. My dad fell and broke his hip, and my dog got food poisoning.”