The Matchmaker's Gift(43)

Diane frowned. “We’ve already had this discussion, Abby. Divorce is an emotional business. People can have strong feelings for each other and still want to get out of their marriage. Your job is to make sure that happens while protecting the client.”

“I’m doing my best, but you said it yourself—you’ve never seen Evelyn behave this way. Her vision loss is an added complication—maybe that’s part of why she’s been so upset. I’ll give her a call when I get back to my office and make sure she still wants us to serve Michael with the papers.”

“There’s no need for that. I’ve already spoken with Evelyn, and she assured me that she wants to move forward.”

“Shouldn’t I talk to her first, especially since she called me?”

“I told you, that isn’t necessary.” Diane took a thick stack of files from her credenza and slammed it down on her desk. She pushed the teetering pile toward Abby. “These are for the Henshaw case. I want an itemized list of every penny he’s spent in the seven years since he’s been married.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Abby said, “but with respect to Michael—”

Diane’s glare was enough to silence her. “Michael will be served today,” she insisted. “As for the Henshaw matter, I need that list as soon as possible—no later than tomorrow morning.”

Abby eyed the heap of folders. It would take her all day to get through them, and she’d probably be working well into the evening. “Of course. I’ll get started on it now.” She balanced the pile in both of her arms and made her way slowly out of Diane’s office, trying not to drop any papers on the way.

“One more thing,” Diane called out from behind her. “The next time you plan on coming in late, I’d appreciate you letting me know in advance.”

Abby’s fingers dug into the folders, but she kept her head down and kept moving forward. Diane always liked to have the last word.

Back at her desk, Abby listened to her phone messages.

Abby, this is Evelyn Morgan. Thank you for meeting me on Friday. Getting around the city has become more difficult lately, so I appreciate your willingness to come to my hotel. I wanted to apologize for the … interruption we had. I’m afraid it was a bit of a scene, but I wanted to confirm that you were moving ahead with the papers and the divorce.



So, Diane was right then, Evelyn had made up her mind.

I’m afraid Michael still refuses to accept the inevitable. I don’t … I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such devotion from him, but … oh dear. I’m sorry, but I’ll leave it at that.



Or had she? The ragged edges of Evelyn’s voice betrayed an obvious uncertainty.

Abby arranged for her favorite paralegal to serve Michael with the summons. Still, the echo of Evelyn’s message nagged at Abby for the rest of the afternoon. As she worked through the mound of documents Diane had given her, all she could think of was the awful day when her mother had received divorce papers from her father.

Beverly and her daughters had been leaving their building when a nervous-looking man approached them from the street. Abby thought she had seen him the day before, but she hadn’t been with her mother then. “Are you Beverly Silverman?” the man demanded, and when Abby’s mother said yes, he shoved a slim manila envelope into her hands. “You’ve been served, ma’am,” he said, before scurrying away.

Abby’s mother had stood frozen in place on the sidewalk, stunned by the strange and unexpected encounter. Her silence sent Hannah into a fit of tears, while Abby tried to hush her sister so people wouldn’t stare. Abby wondered why the man had been so rude. She wondered why he’d run away so abruptly. More than anything else, Abby had wondered what was inside the manila envelope.



* * *



Abby finished the Henshaw project by eight, but she didn’t dare leave work before Diane. It felt like a petty battle of wills—whoever stayed longer would be the victor. Diane strode past Abby’s open door a little after 8:15. She didn’t look up or say goodbye, but Abby was certain Diane had seen her. Abby raised both of her arms over her head and stretched her torso from side to side. One by one, the muscles running down her spine unclenched. She was rubbing the back of her neck with both hands when the phone on her desk rang.

“Abby Silverman.”

“Ms. Silverman, this is Michael Gilbert.” Evelyn’s husband? Crap.

“Mr. Gilbert, hello. Is there … something I can help you with?” Abby tried to sound as professional as possible. Never mind what she had seen at the hotel the other day. Never mind that she shouldn’t be speaking with him at all.

“I know it’s late. I wasn’t sure if anyone would answer.” Michael Gilbert sounded jittery, like someone who’d had too many cups of coffee, or maybe like someone who’d just read about his own divorce.

“We work pretty long hours—it’s part of the job.”

A whooshing noise rattled the receiver, as if Michael had let out a long-held breath. “Ms. Silverman, I’m no good at small talk. I called because I received your papers. It took me all day to work up the courage to open the envelope and read them. Now that I have, I find it necessary to make clear that I do not want this divorce.”