Marcy felt a strange tightness inside as she thought about it, and wasn’t sure whether it was resistance, or guilt, or even annoyance at having to deal with it. She’d far rather carry on thinking about Henry and replaying what a big step it had been for her to stay with him last night. And how tender he had been. Then she pictured the tiny woman’s pleading face, and found herself wondering how she must be feeling now, with her son in prison and her conscience trying to make amends for his crime.

With a sigh, she drank some tea and put her mug on the table. “So, what are your thoughts?”

“Well, frankly,” Claudia began, “I think it would be extremely odd—to put it mildly—to employ the mother of the person who set fire to our house. It doesn’t feel right at all, in fact it feels distinctly wrong, but at the same time I can’t help feeling sorry for her.”

Marcy smiled reflectively. “I know what you mean. And let’s not forget, she’s not to blame for what happened. She’s just a mother trying to do her best, the way any mother would . . .”

They sat quietly for a while, mulling over Maria’s brief and unexpected visit again until Claudia said, “If we tell her no, how are we going to feel after?”

Marcy sighed. “Knowing us we’ll worry about having hurt her feelings.”

Being in little doubt of that, especially where her mother was concerned, Claudia said, “But we don’t owe her anything.”

“You might say that, but don’t forget if she hadn’t turned in her own son, we’d probably still have no idea who actually set fire to the place.”

Accepting the truth of that, and actually admiring the courage it must have taken for Maria to do what she did, as well as all the distress it must have caused her at the time and since, Claudia said, “You’re right, we are indebted to her for that, and we always will be, but if we do take her on it’ll mean that she—and by extension, Archie—will always be with us, and I don’t think we want that, do we?”