We were literally signing closing documents. Pens in hand. The title agent was smiling, I was mentally calculating my commission, and then the buyer's phone buzzed. It was her mom. Her mom who apparently hadn't been consulted about this "massive life decision." The buyer excused herself to take the call and came back fifteen minutes later saying she needed "more time to think." More time. After sixty days under contract. After the inspection, the appraisal, the final walkthrough, the seller already living in a hotel because they'd moved out early as a courtesy. The seller started crying. The title agent looked like she'd seen a ghost. I just sat there holding a pen that suddenly felt completely useless. We lost the deal because of a phone call from a mother who lived three states away and had apparently been "waiting for the right moment" to share her concerns about the neighborhood's school ratings. The buyer didn't have kids. She was fifty-two and single. I've started asking buyers if there's anyone else who needs to approve this purchase. Anyone at all. Therapist, pastor, psychic, whoever. Just tell me now.