Джерри Хилл - Gulf Breeze

"Wow. That sounds like a lot."

"Yes. Time consuming and definitely a big expense. But as the old saying goes, you have to spend money to make money."

"So tell me, what kinds of photos do you want in this first brochure? The construction? Birds?"

"Both. I want them to see what we've accomplished so far, mainly the Visitor's Center. Right now, there aren't a lot of birds, wetland birds anyway, making this their home. That's unfortunate, because it would be nice to have a pond with ducks on it, something to show what we're trying to protect."

"I've got lots of prints laying around of birds. Do they have to be taken here?"

"Isn't that the idea?"

"Well, we could put some shots in of pelicans, egrets, herons, etc. Something to show what will make this their home once the wetlands are back."

Pat paused, thinking. She had hundreds of discarded photos that weren't marketable that would be suitable for this project.

"Right now, I've only got cardinals," Pat said. "I mean, I can hang out here on the bay and get gulls and terns, pelicans. Maybe some shorebirds. But that's not really going to be the focus of this preserve, right? The wetlands are the focus. And you don't have wetlands."

"Okay. Sad, but okay. Listen, I'm really out of my league with this, anyway. I wrote the verbiage. That was the easy part. In fact, I've got the first two brochures ready to go, other than the pictures. The booklet, I'm really doing that as we go. That's where I'll want the sequence of breaking ground to the completed Visitor's Center and the building of the marshes."

"But I don't have any shots of you breaking ground," Pat reminded her.

"Well, I managed to take a few. I haven't even developed them yet so I have no idea if the quality will even be good enough, but hiring a photographer was not top on my list at the time."

"Did you say hiring?"

Carly laughed. "I'm sorry. How about finding a willing volunteer?"

"Better," Pat nodded. "Okay, how about I bring over what I shot yesterday and I'll get today's developed and we can go through them. I'll also get together some others that I've taken. We may want to stick some of them in there."

"I know this is asking a lot, but do you think you could find the time to go with me to the printer? I've met with them before and they know what I want, but I'd feel more comfortable if you were there to present the pictures and help pick out which ones are best. We've got the layout, as I've said, and left blanks where we want photos to go."

"Do you have a copy?"

"On my computer."

"Why don't you let me read it. That'll help. But yes, I'll go with you," Pat agreed. She didn't wonder as to why. She was going to be busting her ass as it were to meet her deadline on the nesting shorebirds.

"Can you come in the morning?"

"Actually, I have another assignment I'm working on. A paying one," Pat said with a smile. "Nesting shorebirds," she said at Carly's silent question. "Ten nests. I have initial shots on all ten, but I'm not nearly finished."

"Okay. Well, we'll be moving over the weekend so my computer will be here on Monday. I'll print out the brochure for you then."

"I'll get it over the weekend. I'm helping, remember?"

"Listen, you don't really have to do that."

"I don't mind, really. I'll probably be out here anyway," Pat said.

"Okay," Carly finally agreed. She didn't know why, but she really didn't want to spend any more time with the woman than was necessary. She didn't want to like her.

They walked back towards the ranch house where the workers had already started. For all Pat Ryan was doing for this project, Carly felt she owed her some sort of apology. After all, today was the only day she'd even been half-way civil to the woman.

"Pat, I want to thank you," Carly started. "I know you were roped into this project by your aunt, but I sincerely appreciate it. We…got off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry."

Pat glance at her, conscious of the fact that this was the first time Carly had called her by her first name.

"Oh, hell, doctor, was that an apology? Don't be doing that," Pat drawled. "Then I'll have to start being nice to you."

Carly smiled. "You'd rather we argue? I doubt an apology will stop us. I still find your views to be incomprehensible."

"Good. Because I still find you to be opinionated and damn near an environmental wacko."

Carly laughed. "Well, that's original."

The Brown Pelican was crowded for a Thursday evening and Pat felt a pang of guilt as she drove past. She hardly ever missed a Thursday. She and Davey usually paired up in pool. It was a good escape, but mostly, it gave them all a chance to act like idiots after tequila shots. But not tonight. She was tired. After she'd left Rockport, she'd driven to Corpus to pick up yesterday's film and drop off what she'd shot that morning. Then, on her way back to the island, she'd caught the sunset over Corpus Christi Bay and she couldn't resist. Like a good sunrise, the sunset called to her and she'd grabbed her camera and used her Jeep as a tripod and snapped off several shots before it dipped out of sight, leaving a beautiful rosy glow to the sky.

It had left her feeling melancholy and at the first beach access road, she turned off the highway and drove along the gulf as the color washed from the sky.

Now, she passed The Brown Pelican with only a glance. But she was hungry. Instead of going straight to home, she drove to The Shrimp Shack. She was happy to see Angel still working.

"Hi Angel," she said and she pulled out a barstool, moving it slightly away from the guy next to her, who appeared to be chain-smoking.

"Hey Pat. Get you a beer?"

"Yep. And dinner," she said. "To go."

"Usual?"

"Yeah. No crab this time," she said. "Extra shrimp." She hated the stuffed crab they insisted on including with the seafood platter. She glanced once again at the chain-smoker, then tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, man, move your cigarette, would you?"

The man glared at her. "The non-smoking section's over there," he pointed, the cigarette nearly brushing her hair.

"Hey, Johnny, lay off," Angel said. "Jesus, you're like a chimney over here. I can hardly breathe."

"This is still a smoking bar, ain't it?"

"Oh, move down to the other end. You can second-hand smoke down there without lighting up."

"Damn women," he muttered but he moved down four stools.

"Thanks," Pat said. "I was afraid I was going to have to deck him. Who is he, anyway?"

"I don't know. He's been here about a month. Doesn't talk much."

Pat nodded. She dismissed the man and sipped from the draft beer Angel slid in front of her.

"What are you doing here, anyway? It's Thursday."

"Had a busy day. Didn't feel up to The Pelican tonight," Pat explained. "How's Lannie?" she asked, referred to Angel's lover. Lannie was one of only two women cops in Port Aransas.

"Still as bitchy as ever," Angel said. "Complains I'm not home enough."

"You're not. Every time I come in here, you're working. Do you ever take off?"

"She's working the night shift now, so I don't mind pulling doubles," Angel said.

She moved away to refill beer mugs at the end of the bar and Pat watched her. Angel was the first friend she'd made when she moved here and she realized that was still a very short list. Oh, the guys at The Pelican, she'd call them friends. Sort of. Just drinking buddies, really. It wasn't like they shared in each other's lives. She really didn't have that much to share, actually. She lived a rather boring life, all things considered.

Saturday morning found her running silently along the surf, long legs pounding in the soft sand as the first light of dawn cut into the darkness. Her thoughts drifted, moving easily to the shots she'd taken yesterday. She'd returned to five of the nests and shot a full roll at each. She'd even managed to shoot the Curlews without interruption. She would try to hit the other five during the week and hopefully, she'd have enough to submit to the magazine. Then she would meet with Steve Anderson, the guy assigned to the story, and they would write up short articles on each nest. She hoped her field notes would be enough.