“You think you are,” she said, “but one day you’ll realize this was just a door opening for you. I promise.”

She picked up The Dream of a Common Language from the ground and stood up.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

I couldn’t watch her leave.

Chapter 53

Dad found me sitting in Joan’s car, crying.

“Where were you?” he asked through the window. “I called you.”

I shook my head, unable to answer. I didn’t have any Kleenex and my face was a mess of tears and snot.

He opened the door and crouched down and gathered me into his arms. “It’s okay,” he said, holding me close. “It’s going to be okay.”

I couldn’t stop crying.

Chapter 54

Afterward, there was dinner at a restaurant in Fairfax, where nobody had an appetite, not even Luke and Noah. Then there were awkward, extended goodbyes as people scattered to local hotels. Aunt Tammy was staying in Fairfax with her family since there wasn’t room for them all at Joan’s house. Tomorrow they’d come and get Analemma before they drove back to Pasadena. Dad and I would be gone before then.

As we walked through the dusk to Joan’s car, I realized I’d have to stop calling it Joan’s car and Joan’s house. Soon they would be sold to new owners, and the car and the house would belong to them.

Analemma was happy to see us, although she still seemed confused by Joan’s absence. Dad took her out while I put away the pictures I’d brought to the memorial service. I hung the self-portrait back in the guest room, and I took the photo of my grandparents up to Grandpa’s office. All the photos would have to come down eventually, but for now I felt like this one should go back where I’d found it.

The stairs creaked as I climbed up to the third floor. There was my grandparents’ carved wooden bed with the handmade quilt on it, the bookshelf below the long window that opened onto the roof, Dad’s suitcase open on the floor. The house was so quiet I could hear the wind in the trees outside.