Phyllis greeted me at the door with a hug that smelled of lilies and greed. Lunch was barely served before she slid a leather folder across the table, beside a fountain pen and a woman with a notary stamp I had never met. “Just the property formality, dear,” she said. “Then we can all relax before the baby comes.” Garrett pushed the pen toward me with one finger.
I didn’t touch it. The doorbell rang. Phyllis frowned and went to answer it, then came back pale, followed by a young woman with a rounded belly and red-rimmed eyes. Sierra. Behind her walked Lauren, holding her own folder. Sierra looked straight at Garrett. “You told me you were divorced,” she said, her voice shaking. Then she turned to me. “I’m the one who called your lawyer.”
