Джерри Хилл - Gulf Breeze

Pat rolled her eyes. Birders.

"Look, I think you should just ask everyone to leave. I mean, is it worth it?"

But Mrs. Davenport held her ground.

"I see you have your cameras. Just like us. What's the difference?"

"I'm a professional. I know how to do this," Pat said.

"Just like you knew that they were Curlews, right?"

Pat rolled her eyes again, just in time to see a brand new Cadillac skid to a halt next to her Jeep.

"Oh, I see your Aunt Rachel heard the news, too."

Pat watched her elderly Aunt jump from her car, binoculars swinging from around her neck.

"Where are they?" she called to Mrs. Davenport.

"Wait," Pat said. "Not you, too. This is a protected area," she said lamely.

"This is public land," Mrs. Davenport corrected.

"Why, Pat, I didn't expect to see you here. Did you hear the news on the hotline?" her aunt asked.

"No. I found the goddamn nest. I should be the only damn person out here," she said, her voice rising with each word.

"Oh, pooh, you hate birds," her aunt said. "Come along, darling, show me the nest."

Aunt Rachel linked arms with Pat and drew her after Mrs. Davenport as they headed toward the pond.

Pat took a deep breath, clutching her camera to her chest as she hurried along beside her aunt, nearly choking on the perfume that hovered around her.

"You know, I'm shooting for a magazine. Maybe you could use your influence and get everyone out of here," Pat whispered to her aunt. "What do you say?"

"They're Curlews, Pat. Nesting. With young. We all want to see."

"And since when have you gotten into this?"

"Isn't it exciting, Pat?"

Pat rolled her eyes again. Her own aunt was decked out, head to toe, in birdwatching gear.

"Nice hat," she murmured.

"I got it at that cute little Birds and More shop on Austin Street."

"Looks great on you."

Aunt Rachel was really her only family. The rest had deserted her years ago. If truth be told, they had deserted Aunt Rachel as well. The eccentric old woman was a bit too much for her stuffy, Catholic family. Oh, the occasional Christmas card was exchanged and sometimes a phone call, but that was about it. Pat assumed they did that so they wouldn't be left out of the will.

"Come by the house for lunch, Pat," her aunt said. "I've some things I want to discuss with you. We haven't visited in ages."

Pat stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as the birders spied across the small pond with their binoculars, looking for the elusive nest. Then she grinned. Of course. They all knew there was a nest here. Somewhere. But only she knew exactly where it was. She could either wait them out or sneak around the back side of the pond. She doubted anyone in this crowd would be inclined to follow her through the mud and tall grass.

Oh, let them fumble around a bit. The sun was already too high anyway for a decent shot. She walked back to her Jeep, mentally planning another trip tomorrow morning, well before dawn. That way, maybe she could still get a few good shots before the crowd showed up.

"Pat? Wait," her aunt called. "We don't see them. Did you?"

"No. They probably hate crowds."

"Where are you going?"

"To your place."

Her aunt nodded. "I'll be along shortly."

Carly walked through the dust of the downstairs and eagerly mounted the steps that would take her to her new quarters. A plastic dust cover was nailed at the top of the stairs and she moved it aside, stepping onto the newly carpeted hallway. She took a deep breath, the smells of fresh paint and new carpet a welcome change from the dust and debris on the lower level. It would still be at least another three weeks before the first floor was finished and they could start outfitting the offices, but the apartment was complete.

"What do you think?" he called.

"Nice. Clean," she called back. Then she walked to the top of the stairs. "But Martin, I'm not sure about moving in here yet. Not with the construction workers going in and out all day. I won't get any work done."

He shrugged.

"Well, then wait. I know it looks a mess down here, but they assure me only another three, four weeks tops."

Her current apartment, although small, was already set up with her computer and fax and other office equipment. She knew she would work much better undisturbed by construction workers, which were already beginning to gather. Before long, loud male voices called to each other and she rolled her eyes.

"I'll wait, Martin."

He chuckled but nodded.

Pat stretched her long legs out in the hammock and closed her eyes. It was cool in the shade and the breeze off of the bay kept most of the mosquitoes away. She suddenly slapped hard against her face.

"Bastard," she murmured.

A quick nap, lunch with Aunt Rachel, a trip to Corpus to drop off the film she'd shot yesterday, then an early dinner. Maybe the Shrimp Shack tonight. Angel would be bartending. At least she'd have a female to talk to instead of the usual guys.

She sighed, willing sleep to come. She moved one leg to the ground and set the hammock in motion again. It was a warm day for April. She should really take advantage of it and be out looking for nests, not trying to sleep in a damn hammock. But she was still pissed off at Mrs. Davenport. Oh well, she could always just go to the Wildlife Refuge and bug the staff there to show her some nesting sites. She needed at least ten. So far, she had four.

She opened one eye when she heard the car approach. Her aunt. Guess the Curlews were safe again.

"Pat?"

"Out here," she called back. She rolled her head and watched her aunt, still decked out in her birdwatching getup, walk across the lawn towards her.

"Oh my, it's warm today, isn't it?"

"It's hot."

"I thought we could have lunch on the veranda, but I think we should choose the shaded deck in the back. I had Alice fix us up something nice."

Pat finally sat up and swung both legs over the side of the hammock. She pulled her cap off and shook out her hair, then tilted her head at her aunt.

"You haven't invited me to lunch in two years."

"Nonsense. You eat here all the time."

"I eat here if I happen to drop by during mealtime. Now, what's going on? You've got something up your sleeve," Pat accused.

Her aunt had the grace to blush, but lifted her chin in defiance. "Can't I simply invite my favorite niece over for lunch?" she asked as she turned and headed back to the house.

"Uh-huh," Pat murmured but dutifully followed after her.

She went into the house just long enough to wash up and steal a beer from the fridge. Her aunt was already waiting on the back deck.

"A beer? We have tea," her aunt offered.

"No, thanks," Pat said as she tipped up the bottle.

"Oh, hell. Alice," she called. "Bring me a Tom Collins." She turned to Pat and grinned. "You are a terrible influence on me."

"Yeah, well, we'll blame it on our upbringing," she said.

"You can hardly blame the Catholic Church for your drinking habits. God knows you blame it for everything else."

"Speaking of that, have you heard from them lately?"

"Your father called me at Easter. I'm sure it eased his conscience somewhat, being a religious holiday and all." She hesitated before continuing. "He did inquire about you."

"That's nice," Pat said.

"Well, the conversation was short, anyway. I'm sure he was just making sure I was still alive."

"Checking on his inheritance, no doubt."

Her aunt snorted. "As if he'll be mentioned in the will. And it's not like he needs any more money." Aunt Rachel reached out and grasped Pat's hand. "Speaking of money, why haven't you cashed the last few checks I've given you?"