The honeymoon was everything a honeymoon was supposed to be. She’d loved every minute on the exotic island. Loved the togetherness, loved making love on the beach under the stars. Loved hearing her new husband whisper sweet words of undying love in her ears. She had every right to expect that she would return home and have a normal marriage. Instead, she’d returned home to be served with divorce papers. Even a stupid person could figure out the divorce papers had to have been drawn up and filed while they were still on their honeymoon.

Sam looked around for her purse and car keys. The little mirror by the front door showed her that her eyes were red and puffy. As if she cared. Minutes later she was on her way.

As she maneuvered the BMW up and down the streets, she wondered what this particular summons was all about. Something to sign undoubtedly. She’d called an attorney who was a client of the accounting firm where she worked to represent her, but he’d been out of the office taking a deposition. His secretary said she would have him return her call later in the day.

She was on K Street with two blocks to go. She found a vacant spot, parked, buttoned her coat against the cold wind, and moved toward the entrance to the building that housed the Prizzi law firm. She signed in, showed her ID, and headed for the elevator that would take her to the eighteenth floor.

The law firm was one of the most prestigious firms in the DC area, befitting Douglas Rainford, III, who liked to say he measured everything in life by dollar signs and beauty. “I have an appointment with Mr. Prizzi. Is it one, two, three, or four? Prizzi I mean,” Sam asked.

The receptionist looked up at Sam with a blank expression before she looked down at her appointment book. “Which one?” Sam prompted as she looked around the shiny, marble lobby with the expensive furniture and luscious green plants. She looked down at her watch. “I’m in a hurry,” she said coolly.

“Isn’t everyone?” the receptionist responded just as coolly.

“Yes, but I’ll leave if Mr. Prizzi doesn’t see me in the next…three minutes,” Sam said, her eyes glued to her watch. What am I doing here? I never should have come. My lawyer can handle things.

The phone console buzzed. The receptionist listened attentively. She hung up the phone, and said, “Mr. Prizzi will see you now. Go through the door on the right. Mr. Prizzi’s office is the third door on the right.”