Andrew’s thoughts fluttered like curtains in a breeze through the window. The wind would part them momentarily and he’d see a flash of crystal clarity. Then the next eddy of air would obscure the view, and the haze would come up again.

Although there was no standard cure for mercury poisoning, the chelation therapy was helping in every organ except the brain. That much he knew, based on the frequent blood and urine tests.

Within hours of Peach sounding the alarm about the mercury, Andrew had been admitted to the hospital. He’d come home to find that the apartment—indeed, the entire building from basement to attic—had been decontaminated and tested. The metallic taste in his mouth was gone at last. His appetite had returned and he could walk a straight line. Feed the cat without spilling. He might never regain the lost pieces of himself, but after the sudden drama of removing the toxic radiator part, he felt more hope than he had in a long time.

He also saw things with intermittent clarity.

And he knew what he had to do. He took out the threadbare green ribbon that had lived in his billfold since his father had given it to him. His tie to Colleen, who had never found her way back.

“Come and sit,” he said to Natalie when she appeared at his door. “We can look out at the rain. It’s a restful sight, isn’t it?”

She squeezed his shoulder, leaned down, and kissed his cheek. Natalie. His Natty-girl. She of the butterfly kisses and worried forehead and huge heart everyone trusted but herself. Then she had a seat, placing a folder of printed pages on the table between them. It was the story of the Sunrose Building, the one Blythe had started—was it only a year ago? It seemed like much longer. Natalie was determined to complete the narrative, bringing in the trove of information from Colleen’s writings and drawings.

“I’m so very grateful,” he said. “I don’t tell you that enough, and I want to make certain you know.”

“I do know. How are you feeling today?”

“Good,” he said. “I checked the calendar, and for once there’s no doctor or lab on the agenda. I have a notary coming to help us this morning.”

She frowned. That pucker of worry endearing. “What for?”

He took out the forms from Ms. Hart, the lawyer. “I’m giving you my general durable power of attorney and guardianship. It’s long overdue.”

“Oh, Grandy. Are you sure?”

“I’ve had a good long time to think about it. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then I’ll do my best to take care of things, I promise. You’ve taken care of me all my life, and I’ll do the same for you.”

“You’ve kept me well because you give me joy. And joy will keep you well, but you have to let it.”