Page 6 of Her Wicker Guardian

Laura’s expression changes. “That poor woman.”

“Her mother?” Blair asks.

“Janet.”

Shannon sighs. “She never gets to just leave the house. There’s always something with her mom.”

“And she does medical billing from home,” I say. “Her family seems to think that means she doesn’t actually have a job.”

Laura glances toward the drive. “She’ll apologize when she gets here.”

“And then she’ll pull something out of that Hermione Granger bag that saves the bear.”

Shannon looks back at the bear. She reaches toward the high side, and Blair catches her wrist.

“You’ve had wine.”

“I’ve had half a glass.”

“Exactly. We’re not making irreversible structural decisions under the influence.”

“That seems rich coming from a divorce attorney.”

Blair arches her brow. “I said structural.”

For a few minutes it feels almost exactly like the Saturdays we spent on the arch last year. Except now we know one another well enough that nobody bothers being polite.

Eventually we give up on the bear and settle into the chairs around the little folding table.

Shannon looks at me over the rim of her cup. “Are we going to talk about your divorce?”

I shake my head once. “No.”

Three women watch me with the kind of silence that says they’re willing to wait me out.

“That was decisive,” Laura says.

“I’m practicing. The books I’ve been reading say no is supposed to be a complete sentence.”

Blair lowers her cup and gives me the same look she probably gives clients who are trying to dodge a direct question. “Is it final?”

I nod. “As of yesterday afternoon.”

“The divorce?” Shannon asks.

“Yep. It’s done.”

Shannon’s surprise wipes the teasing from her face. “And you weren’t going to tell us?”

I take a drink. “You knew it was coming.”

“That isn’t the same thing as knowing you’re legally divorced from the SOB.”

The email arrived while I was getting dressed for my afternoon shift. I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror with one shoe on when my phone buzzed on the dresser. The attachment took a few seconds to load, and I remember wondering whether my lawyer had sent me yet another form to sign.

Then the first page opened.

My married name sat near the top beside his, and underneath it were the words Judgment of Dissolution of Marriage. I read them twice before I lowered the phone.