She blinked, and then the surprised expression on her face cleared. “My goodness, for a moment there I thought you were Alexis.”

I sat down on the couch beside her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well,” she admitted. “I thought I was fine when I woke up, but my head started hurting.” She picked up a mug of herbal tea that was on the coffee table, and it shook slightly as she sipped from it.

“Did you take some ibuprofen or Tylenol? Can I get you any?”

“No, I took some.”

“Maybe you should lie down.”

She seemed to consider that. “Do you know what I was doing with these photos last night?” she asked.

I glanced down at the albums. They looked like the ones we’d found in the basement. “No, I wasn’t here last night, remember?”

Joan’s forehead wrinkled as if she were puzzled. “You weren’t.” It wasn’t quite a question, but it worried me.

“Did you take them out for your work?” I pulled the closest album over to me and opened it. I recognized the snapshots from Hawaii. There was the photo of Grandpa and his colleagues on top of the mountain.

Joan said, “Russ says they’re building an infrared telescope there.”

I glanced up at the present tense. “Are you sure you’re okay? This photo was taken a long time ago.”

Joan looked briefly confused, and then she shook her head. “What am I thinking? I probably should go lie down.”

She stood up and I put a hand on her elbow as she wobbled. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“No, no, I just need to rest a bit.” She headed for the stairs.

“Let me help you.” I got up to follow her, and Analemma followed me.

“I’m fine,” Joan snapped.

I halted in surprise. Analemma went over to her and nudged her left hand. She looked down at Analemma and her expression cleared, then she looked at me.

“I’ll be fine,” she said more gently. “I’m going to go rest. I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

I watched her slowly climbing up the stairs, Analemma following just behind as if she could catch her if she fell. I wondered if I should insist on helping. When she shut the bedroom door, I turned back to the coffee table. The photo album was still open, the picture of Grandpa on the mountain waiting like a portal to the past. I decided that if Joan didn’t feel better after her nap, I’d insist on calling the doctor.

—

I made myself a lunch of scrambled eggs, heavily buttered toast, and very strong coffee. I ate it out on the deck under the umbrella, wearing my sunglasses. I felt like I had an emotional hangover.