Patrick was well along in the list. When he finished books, he mailed them to Molly for safekeeping. Building the library, he would tell himself as he doled out postage money. Another few days and he would send the Darwin. He was still looking at the blonde. She smiled slightly, and he said, "I'm Patrick." "Amber," she said. "This is my friend, Willow." Patrick nodded at them both and moved a step closer. "I like this place," he said. "First time in the Depresso?" Patrick laughed. "Is that what you call it?" "That's what everybody calls it," Amber said. "How long have you been in town?" "About four hours." Amber touched Willow's arm. "We're old timers." "We've been here a month," Willow said in a low voice. There was a brief drop in the noise level as the piano player crossed the room with quick steps and went out the door. "There he goes," Amber said. "Who's he?" asked Patrick. "Dylan. He's Willow's hero." "Dylan?" "Bob Dylan," Willow said. "No shit," Patrick said. "He's one of the reasons we're in this whistle stop," Amber said. "Willow heard he was here." "And Joan Baez and Van Morrison," Willow said. Patrick snorted. "Where's Beethoven?" "He's watching, maybe," Willow said. "My man," Patrick said. "He sure rattled his cage." Willow flushed. "Van Morrison rattles my cage," Amber said, and Patrick forgot about Beethoven. "So, what do you do?" he asked her. "I go to Stanford. We both do." "I went to Florida State for a while. What are you studying?" "Pre-med, I guess. My father's a doc." "I'm reading a lot of science," Patrick said. "Just finishing Darwin." "Yeah, Darwin," Amber said. "I was in the Galapagos Islands once." "What! What were they like?" "Kind of rocky. Foggy in the mornings when I was there. Nothing to do." Patrick was impressed. "Darwin was good. He kept track. He thought about what he was seeing . . . those finch." "Yeah," Amber said. She looked around the room. "The usual suspects," she said to Willow. "Long-tailed carpenters," she added for Patrick. It had been a full day. Things were happening too fast; Patrick wanted to slow down. "Look," he said, "nice to meet you. I'll see you around. I've got a job--start tomorrow." "Bye, Patrick," Amber said. Willow lifted one hand. "Amber!" Patrick said to himself, walking back to his room. Frieda had gone to bed with him a couple of times during his last summer in Germany. He'd gotten lucky once at a party in Tallahassee. That was it. No one like Amber. His eyes opened wider as he remembered her. He put his hand on her shoulder, imagining the warm solid body under her white blouse. His mind spun out, and he cleared his throat. He shook his head, got control of himself, and walked faster.