Natalie quietly left the room. She returned to the shop, took down the placard announcing the memorial, and put it in the recycle bin. The mounds of flowers and tributes around the door could be dealt with in the morning.

As she turned to make her way up the hall stairs to the apartment, a knock at the door startled her. Someone else offering condolences? Another vegan quinoa casserole or batch of cookies?

Glare from the inside lights obscured the visitor. He or she was in the main entrance to the shop rather than the residential entryway next door.

She unlocked the door and came face-to-face with a person she scarcely recognized. Dean Fogarty was older now, but still tall and well-built, his blond hair faded though styled with an expensive-looking cut. Back in the day, when Natalie’s mother had been swept into an illicit romance with this man, he must have been quite a looker.

“Natalie,” he said. “I read about Blythe in the Examiner. I’m … what a shock. I’m so sorry.”

She wanted to be alone with her heavy, exhausting sadness. No, she wanted her mother. And that made her even sadder. With a vague gesture, she invited her father in.

They didn’t hug or shake hands or touch other than with a glance. Their status was too undefined for anything more. When she was a little girl, Dean had paid her the occasional visit, but even then, it felt awkward, as if they were strangers forced together in a too-crowded space.

“Do you want to sit?” She indicated the shop’s coffee nook.

“Thank you.”

She took the cover off a plastic dish. “Help yourself to cookies. People have been bringing food over for days.”

“How are you doing?” he asked.

She’d been in a fog since the moment she learned of the crash. But he was not the person to share her burdens with. “Still in shock,” she said. “I’m trying to focus on my grandfather now.”

“I’m glad you and Andrew have each other. I’ve never been there for you and your mother. I wish I had been. You both deserved better.”

Natalie hesitated. Now? she thought. You want to unburden yourself now? Oh, dude …

“Mom did,” Natalie agreed.

“I’ll always regret that I never found a way to have you in my life,” he said.

“Yeah, kind of hard when you have a wife and three kids at home.”

He winced. “I was so fucking stupid. I have so many damn regrets.” He paused, then asked, “Did she … did Blythe ever speak of me?”