"I am," she said. "I'll be okay with however long it takes."
He stood up. He took his mug to the sink and rinsed it and set it in the rack. Then he stood with his back to her, his hands braced on the edge of the counter, looking out the window at the gray yard.
"What are you going to do about her?" he said. "Claire."
"I don't know."
"Emma thinks you should write to her."
Natalie looked up. "She told you?"