Lydia brings me a plate of hot empanadas and a beer, then floffs down into the other chair at the little table.
"I think it's time for my break."
"Enough. I think the expeditions are coming back through."
We watch a group of people trudge up the street, stopping to point and comment--everything new to them. They look like scientists. Some days in Puerto Williams everyone looks like a scientist.
"I just feel like I need to get out of here--get outside in some air before it's dark."
"Do you want me to stay for a while?"
Lydia pauses. "Could you work for me this weekend? Alex is coming through, and if the weather holds, we can do a little hiking."
What can I say? Besides, it will be good for me to get out of my own little house, see some new faces, fix up something besides a pot of beans.
"Sure. I can cover for you."
Alex--and yet the postcard burns in my hand.
"What have you got there," Lydia asks, eyeing the photograph from Santiago.
"Haven't read it."
"You're impossible!" She makes half a grab at it, and then she wipes her hands on her apron and sashays back behind the counter.