I had mixed feelings about meeting at Belinda’s grave. It was not that I didn’t understand or consider the place appropriate. But what could be more upsetting and poignant? I wanted to suggest the cherry tree planted for her in Whitehorse Park; but I was in no position to suggest anything. Only Jep wholly disapproved. He wanted to come with us, only because he thought he might be able to bring the thing to a speedier conclusion. “This can’t go on forever, Thea,” he said.

“It’s going on forever for her,” I told him.

“I know but...”

“This feels like an ending, Jep. She’s trying to take the steps for what they call closure, these days.”

On the way, Stefan and I stopped to buy a dozen pink roses. Unavoidably, we remembered the last time we had come here, so long ago. I was still surprised that Stefan didn’t ever come here privately, on his own, and yet, this was perhaps the most complex of mournings, snagged at every corner with shadows. At the appointed hour, the winter shadows already thickening, Stefan and I parked as close to the grave as we could. We walked up toward that knoll as scarves of mist swirled up off the lake. I was surprised not to see Jill’s car. I saw her, then, though, sitting quietly, wearing the heavy maroon-and-gold varsity coat that Belinda had given us, the one she’d been wearing that day I saw her outside the prison, the day that Stefan was released and Esme tried to terrorize us. I had never asked her why she was there that day, perhaps it was to give Esme the go-ahead. On her lap, Jill held a big leather folder, almost like a small briefcase, and she turned to the sound of our footsteps.

She stood up.

Her face was awful, a bony pale slash, her eyes, untended and reddened, sculpted downward. “Thea,” she said. “Stefan.” It was a greeting that felt foreshortened, without the customary attendant movements, without a handshake, an embrace, or even a wave.

“Hello, Jill,” Stefan said. “I hope we can help.”

She sighed. “If you two would sit there.”

We sat down on the bench. “As you know, I have not really been able to move on successfully from Belinda’s death. I think it’s a combination of things. I don’t have a partner to share this with me and, losing a husband and then my only child, it’s too much.”

“But maybe in time...” I said.

“I don’t have time, Thea. What do I have? Really?” She gestured to Stefan. “You have him, so you have a future.”

“The work you do...” I began.

“Oh, who cares? I started that because I had to make it matter. Didn’t I?”