Hollis followed her, ducking through a doorway partially concealed by a dark noren decorated with white fish. There was no white Ikea desk here, no decrease in the shop’s simple elegance at all. It was a smaller space, but as cleanly uncluttered, with the same sanded, unstained floor, the same candles. A woman was seated on one of two old, paint-scarred, mismatched wooden kitchen chairs, stroking the screen of an iPhone. She looked up, smiled, stood. "Hello, Hollis. I—"