"No. I'd have done the same thing."
Claire unfolded the card. Her hands were not quite steady.
"Is there anything medical I should know about," she said. "Like, heart stuff. Cancer. My mom—Ruth—she always worried about that. That she couldn't tell me."
Natalie told her. Her father's high blood pressure. Her grandmother's diabetes. A great-uncle who had died young of something nobody in the family would name, which Natalie had always suspected was drink. Claire wrote it down on the back of the card with a pen from the reception desk, carefully, like a student.
"Is my father alive?"
"I don't know. His name is Josh Kettering. The last I heard he was in Texas. I can tell you everything I know about him, but it isn't much. He was kind. He wasn't brave. He was nineteen."