“Let’s go to the lounge.” He began leading the way and said, “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you. My grandson says you have amnesia and don’t remember the last few years.”

“I thought it was simple amnesia and I’d be over it by now, but everyone thinks I’m traumatized.” The blood snack had filled me with warmth and I felt the very opposite of traumatized. “I’m sorry to impose on your family.”

“No imposition for me,” Mr. Grant said as we went to the living room I’d seen earlier. He searched for a light switch; I saw one and turned on a lamp with a mica shade, which cast an amber glow on the cream walls and Mission-style furniture. “I wish it was under more providential circumstances.”

“My policy is always to make the best of a situation.” I placed the glasses on a cocktail table and Mr. Grant poured the scotch.

He lifted his glass and said, “To our friendship,” and we toasted, then sat down in comfy club chairs.

I ran my hand on the butter-soft leather of the chair. The room was attractive, but nothing seemed familiar and there were no traces of me in the room. I asked, “Are you and Oswald close?”

“Not yet, but I hope we will be. I got here a few days ago. This is my first visit to his ranch,” he said, and smiled as he shook his head. “Does that seem odd?”

“No, but I haven’t seen my parents in … I really don’t know, but I think it’s years now.”

“Every family has its problems. Oswald’s grandmother and I divorced long ago, and I moved away. Unfortunately, that means I only see my grandsons on their rare visits.”

“Exes can be a problem,” I said, thinking, Especially when you find them dead in your loft. “Did you remarry?”

He raised his eyebrow. “Once bitten, twice shy.”

“That’s where we’re different. I don’t mind being bitten, as long as I get to bite back.”

He laughed and said, “Maybe it has to do with who does the biting. I think that there are some people who are so extraordinary that they overwhelm you. If you lose them, you can go on to other relationships, but you’ll never fully recover and you’ll always regret not doing absolutely everything and anything to keep them.”

Was Oswald one of those people to me? I asked, “Where do you live now?”

“A place called Peggys Cove, no apostrophe, near Halifax. It’s foggy, but I like that.”

“I adore fog. Where did the name come from?”

We’d finished our scotch, but I didn’t feel the slightest effect.