He opened up the throttle, flying into a stiff headwind laden with rain and wondering if Senna would be worried. No doubt she was getting madder by the moment, wondering if he was shirking his work, wondering if the plane had crashed, worrying needlessly about nothing at all. By the time he landed on the Wolf, he was dreading how angry she was going to be and wondering how he was going to explain his tardiness and the lack of petunias. He carried the box of meats up the steep ramp, wanting to get some into the refrigerator and rest into the freezer as soon as possible. Inside the lodge he heard laughter in the kitchen and entered the room to the unlikely sight of Wavey and Gordina playing cards. “What the hell’s going on?” he said, setting the box down on the work island. “For cripe’s sake, with all the work that has to get done, you’re playing cards?” “We stopped for a cuppa,” Gordina said defensively, nudging the teapot on the table. “We were tired and need a break.”
