We stand there for a second. I gesture to join her at the same time she gestures for me to take a seat. I sit down across from her. A waiter in a tired tuxedo drops off a plate of Mexican sweet bread.
“Careful there,” she says, flicking at her own stale bread with a turquoise-painted nail. “I almost chipped a tooth.”
I knock at it. It sounds like a hollow log. “I’ve had worse.”
“What are you, some kind of a professional adventure eater?”
“Something like that.”
“Where are you from?” She holds up a hand. “No, wait, let me guess. Say something else.”
“Something else?”
She taps a finger to her temple, then snaps her fingers. “You’re Dutch.”
“Good ear.”
“Not much of an accent, though.”
“Very good ear. I grew up speaking English.”
“Did you live in England?”
“No, it was just my mother didn’t like speaking Dutch, thought it sounded too much like German. So at home, it was English.”
She glances at the phone on the table. “Well, I suspect there is a fascinating story behind that, but I’m afraid it’ll have to remain a mystery.” She pauses. “I’m a day late already.”
“Late for what?”
“For Mérida. I was supposed to be there yesterday, but my car broke down, and, well, it’s been a cascading comedy of errors. What about you? Where are you headed?”
I pause. “Mérida—if you’ll give me a ride.”
“I wonder what would piss off David more—driving alone or giving a ride to strangers.”
“Willem.” I hold out my hand. “Now I’m not a stranger.”
She narrows her eyes at my outstretched hand. “You’ll need to do better than that.”
“Sorry. I’m Willem de Ruiter.” I reach into my backpack for my stiff new passport and hand it over. “Here’s some identification.”
She flips through it. “Nice picture, Willem. I’m Kate. Kate Roebling. And I’m not showing you my passport because the picture is very unfortunate. You’ll just have to trust me on that.”
She smiles and slides my passport back across the table. “Okay, then, Willem de Ruiter, traveling adventure-eater. The garage just opened so I’m grabbing the car. Assuming it’s actually ready, I’ll be hitting the road in about a half hour. Does that give you time to get packed and ready to go?”
I point to my rucksack on the floor next to me. “I’m always packed and ready to go.”
Kate picks me up in a sputtering Volkswagen jeep, the seats torn, the foam stuffing coming out. “This is fixed?” I ask, climbing in.
“That’s just cosmetic. You should’ve seen it before. The muffler was falling out, literally dragging behind the car, sparking. The whole rainforest could’ve gone up in flames because of this baby. No offense. Who’s a pretty girl?” She pats the dashboard and turns to me, whispering. “You have to be nice to her. Or she won’t go.”
I tip an imaginary hat to the car. “My apologies.”
“This is actually a great car. Appearances can be quite deceiving, you know.” She guns the engine.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”