But today would not be another day spent on her own. Today, she was having a visitor. An important one. Gabe’s widow, Celeste, had contacted Nat through e-mail. The woman had been spending a few days at a meditation retreat on Galiano Island, would be flying home via Sea-Tac. Celeste wanted to stop in to see Natalie en route to the airport. Nat was nervous, unsure what the encounter would bring about. But she couldn’t deny the woman’s request. Nat had already taken so much from her. And Celeste had secured Nat’s freedom.

“Should I stay home from work?” her mom asked, when Nat told her about the rendezvous.

“No,” Nat assured her. “It’ll be fine.” But her confidence was forced. She had no idea why Celeste wanted to see her, what she would say. All Nat knew was that she’d have to take it.

The woman was arriving at 9:30 A.M., allowing Natalie time to drop her younger brother and sister at school and come home to get ready. She changed out of her uniform of sweats into a pair of dark jeans and a striped blouse. It was as formal as she got these days. Boiling the kettle, she made tea in her maternal grandmother’s pot, set out the matching milk jug and sugar bowl. As the tea steeped, she sat down to await Celeste’s arrival.

A rental car pulled into the driveway at precisely 9:33. Nat watched from the window as Celeste emerged from the silver Toyota Camry. She was wearing a short trench with a belted waist to protect her from the April drizzle, yoga pants and running shoes. Her presence was calm, even Zen, in contrast to Nat’s own tense affect. The older woman must have come directly from her meditation retreat.

Natalie opened the door before her visitor could knock.

“Hi,” Nat said. Should they shake hands? Hug? Nat had slept with this woman’s husband, had admitted to killing him. But Celeste had kept Nat out of prison. What was the etiquette?

“Thanks for seeing me.” Gabe’s widow was cool, composed.

“Of course.” Nat ushered her inside. “Can I take your coat?”

“I can’t stay,” Celeste said, eyeing the tea set on the table. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. Everything’s . . . fine.”

“Are you seeing your psychiatrist?”

“Every week. I think it’s helping. I’m on a low-dose antidepressant, too. Just to take the edge off.”

“I’m glad.” But she didn’t smile. “Are you working?”

“I’m babysitting my little brother and sister. It’s a way to repay my family. I’ve put them through a lot.”

Celeste nodded in agreement, her eyes darting around the house once more. Nat could sense that the woman had gotten what she came for, was eager to leave. But Nat had more to say.

“Thank you for what you said in court,” she said quickly. “It kept me out of jail.”

“I meant what I said,” the older woman responded. “Gabe used you. He lied to you, and he hurt you. Like he did to so many of us.”