“Margaret?”

Gemma stood in the doorway with her phone flat against her palm, screen down.

“You’re up.”

“So are you,” I said.

She leaned on the frame.

“I figured you’d be asleep an hour ago.”

“I’m reading the news.” I moved the mouse half an inch, and the pool photograph came back up, the little lights shining under the water.

She tapped the edge of her phone twice.