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minutes in the bathroom, doing God knows what.”
    “It’s called—”
    “Whoa.” I stood up. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. I’m late for work. You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”
    “But he can’t just hog the bathroom all the time. We all have to use it, and I’m tired of it smelling like Axe body spray.”
    “You can use the downstairs bathroom.”
    “There’s mold on the ceiling! And the toilet makes that weird noise.”
    I walked into the living room, searching for my coat. “Then use the bushes. I don’t care. In the meantime, Patrick, I’ll pick you up another pillow.”
    “It’s okay,” he called back. “You can just give me twenty bucks and I’ll pick it up myself. You probably don’t have time to visit the mall and shop for me.”
    I poked my head back into the kitchen. “Nice try, but you still owe me for gas, groceries, and those PlayStation games that you rented.”
    He sighed. “Fine.”
    “Any preferences for your new pillow? Plain? Stripes? Something robust with cars and women?”
    “I don’t care.”
    “Okay. I’ll just get whatever’s machine-washable.” I smiled. “See you all tonight.”
    “Can you pick up taco seasoning?” Derrick called. “We also need lime juice for the guacamole. It’s Fiesta Friday.”
    “That’s never going to catch on, sweetie. But I’ll grab something.”
    I closed the door on his mumbled reply.
    I’d never admit it to any of them, but this was the best part of my day.
    I sat in the waiting room, thumbing through a copy of Chatelaine. The people sitting nearby looked surprisingly normal. I didn’t know any of them personally, but I’d seen them working in different departments. Everyone was reading a magazine or sending text messages.
    “Tess?”
    I stood up and walked over to the desk. The receptionist gave me a friendly, uninterested smile.
    “Follow me.”
    The hallway was bland, with white walls and paintings of winter scenes. She led me to an open doorway.
    “Have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.”
    “Thank you.”
    Her expression didn’t change. She simply nodded and walked back down the hallway. I sat down.
    Had I remembered to turn my cell off? I didn’t want to be obnoxious. I started to dig through my bag, but gave up after thirty seconds. It was buried so far down there, nobody would be able to hear it anyway.
    I stared at the low desk in front of me. No family pictures or bric-a-brac. Just a computer, an accordion file, and an embossed leather appointment book. Maybe this was what Luiz Ordeño’s desk had looked like. Austere professionalism. The brass nameplate read DR. LORI HINZELMANN.
    The door opened, and Hinzelmann walked in. He was three feet tall and impeccably dressed, all the way down to his size-five Steve Madden loafers. It was hard to tell with goblins, but I’d guess that he was anywhere from ninety to a hundred years old, which for them was something equivalent to late twenties.
    “Good to see you, Tess.” He sat down behind the desk, taking a moment to adjust the height of his chair. “Do you want anything before we begin? Coffee, tea, or soda?”
    “You have soda?”
    “I think there might be a Coke Zero left in the break-room fridge.”
    “I’m good. Thanks.”
    “Excellent.” He set down a pen and a pad of paper. “We were talking a bit about your family on Monday. Did you want to start from there?”
    “We might as well.”
    “All right. Go ahead.” He smiled. His skin had the consistency of dark wood, impossibly grooved, as if his features had been carved out rather than formed through standard fusions of bone and muscle. I couldn’t tell if it was attractive or slightly unnerving. No more so than his yellow eyes with their delicate, felid pupils, which never seemed to blink.
    “She’s been a little stressed lately. My mother.”
    “How come?”
    “Various things. Money. The usual.”
    “That’s just one thing. What else?”
    “I think she worries about