Claire wrote that down too, or some of it.
"Do I have—" She stopped. "Do you have other kids?"
"One," Natalie said. "A daughter. Emma. She's twelve."
Claire looked up sharply. Something crossed her face that Natalie could not read.
"Does she know about me?"
"Yes. Since the night I was here. She was in that room." Natalie nodded toward the back. "She heard more than I wanted her to. She plays the cello, too. She's the one who told me to write to you."