Ángel paused. Then, politely, he said, “Excuse me, but that is not true. I know that Oberon was upset when I went missing. I know that he will want to hear from me that I’m all right.”

“Of course, we told him immediately when we learned you were safe,” said Jeremy. “We’ve been keeping him posted. He is reassured that you’re fine.”

Ángel wrinkled his brow. He put a palm over the phone and said to Chandler, “Is there a reason the DOR would be keeping me from talking to Oberon?”

She shrugged. “I can’t think of one, but I don’t work for them anymore.”

Ángel spoke into the phone again. “I know that Oberon will want to hear from me. I would like you to put me in touch with him. Better yet, I want to go see him. Is he still at the Montana house? Or are he and the new envoy somewhere else?”

“I’ll leave him a message and ask him what he’d like to do,” said Jeremy. “But as I said, he’s been very busy.”

“I don’t get this.” Ángel stabbed the pad with the pen, frustrated. “You hired me to keep him company, right? Now you don’t want me to do that? What changed?”

“It’s really not up to me,” said Jeremy. “Oberon makes his own decisions about who he wants to talk to.”

“Neil, did I do something wrong? I haven’t been fired, have I?”

“Definitely not. Your contract with the DOR is in good standing. You’re still drawing a salary. But I’m not able to put you directly in touch with Oberon. I can certainly pass along your message, though.”

“He’ll want to talk to me.”

“Then don’t worry. I’ll tell him, and if he wants to talk to you, I’m sure he’ll call. In the meantime, why not relax? Take a vacation day from Oberon and the DOR.”

He hung up. Ángel tossed the pen down and looked around at the others: sympathetic Marissa, cool Chandler. His father, uncomfortable, silent.

“Well,” Ángel said. “I don’t have any clothes, or a phone, or anything, but I do have some money. Who wants to go shopping?”

They walked to a shopping mall near the hotel, where Ángel spent the better part of an hour buying a new phone while Chandler and Marissa went to get him some clothes. Then he and Victor bought sweet tea and sat in the food court waiting for the women, and Ángel bent over his new phone, connected to the mall’s wi-fi, and began to set up apps.

He heard Victor take in a breath to say something, and he braced himself: would it be disapproving? Pitying? Both?

Instead, Victor said, “Father Dennis died in October. He had a stroke.”