The car came to a gentle stop along the curb, a few steps from the entrance to El Cafetal. The warm Cancún air, thick with the festive buzz of the nearby Mercado 28—a mosaic of colors, aromas of spices, tropical fruits, and the lively chatter of vendors and tourists—enveloped Lysandra as soon as the driver opened the door for her. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her face a mask of serene professionalism that expertly concealed the recent surge of her inner anguish.
El Cafetal was an oasis amidst the bustle. A terrace shaded by a large ceiba tree, with rustic wooden tables and wicker chairs, the intense aroma of roasted coffee and chocolate from the metate wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of the hibiscus flowers adorning the pots. From the entrance, Lysandra spotted Mauricio.
He was sitting at a table in the thickest shade, his back to her, but even so, his presence was noticeable. When Lysandra approached, he seemed to sense her, because he turned just in time. A huge, genuine, and dazzling smile lit his face when he saw her. Mauricio was a man who radiated contagious vitality. Despite his twenty-nine years, he possessed an imposing physique, his muscles well defined beneath the sandy-colored linen shirt rolled up to the elbows—the fruit, he said, of a love of diving in cenotes and exploring Mayan ruins. His thick, dark hair was slightly ruffled by the breeze, and his brown eyes shone with intelligence and an innate kindness. Most striking, however, was his voice: when he spoke, it was a deep, resonant baritone, with the gravity and cadence of a much older man, a fascinating contrast to his youthful energy.
"Lysandra! How punctual! I thought the mid-morning traffic would play a trick on you," he exclaimed, his voice lightly rustling the leaves of the tree above them as he rose to greet her with a warm handshake that conveyed a restrained and friendly strength. His charisma was undeniable, a natural quality that instantly put people at ease.
Beside him, sitting with a peaceful calmness, was a young woman Lysandra had never met before. She wore thin-framed glasses that framed large, kind eyes; her skin was a translucent whiteness that contrasted with Mauricio's tan; and her soft-featured face had a relaxed and serene expression. He smiled shyly at Lysandra as Mauricio made the introductions.
"Lysandra, I'd like you to meet Dulce, my girlfriend," Mauricio said, his smile softening with obvious tenderness as he looked at the young woman. "Dulce, this is Lysandra Thorne, the antiques magician I've told you so much about."
"A pleasure," Dulce said, her voice as soft as her countenance. She didn't speak much, but her gaze was direct and conveyed a genuine, unpretentious kindness. Lysandra felt an unexpected surge of... calm? as she met her gaze.
"Likewise, Dulce. Mauricio is exaggerating, as always," Lysandra replied, returning the smile with a courtesy that attempted to mask the fragility she still felt. She sat down in the chair Mauricio offered her, the aroma of coffee and the murmur of conversation around her helping to ground her a little more in the present.
A waiter approached almost immediately, and Mauricio ordered a café con leche for himself and a agua de jamaica for Dulce, before turning to Lysandra. "The usual for you, Lysandra? A strong double espresso to face the world?"
She nodded. "Perfect, Mauricio, thank you."
While they waited for the drinks, there was brief small talk about the weather, the bustle of the market. Lysandra observed the couple. The way Mauricio sometimes brushed Dulce's hand across the table, the way she gazed at him with quiet adoration. There was a harmony between them, an easy, natural connection that contrasted sharply with the turmoil of her own sleep and the complexity of the relationships she had discovered in her parents' letters.
"So, what we came for, although it's always a pleasure just to chat with you," Mauricio said finally, leaning forward to pick up a thick leather folder and a couple of cardboard tubes that rested next to his chair. His eyes shone with professional enthusiasm. "I have some new catalogs from an auction in Mérida that I think will blow your mind. And I brought a couple of small pieces, nothing ostentatious, but with a story... well, you tell me what they whisper to you."
She opened the folder on the table, revealing photographs and descriptions of antique objects. Lysandra leaned forward, her professional mind fully activating, grateful for the focus the job demanded. The shadow of the dream still lurked at the edges of her consciousness, but for now, at least, there were catalogs to sort through and mysteries beyond.
tangible to unravel.