CHAPTER TEN

"Hey, Pat."

"Angel," Pat drawled, pulling out a bar stool and leaning her elbows on the counter.

"What brings you here in the middle of the day?"

"I need a beer."

"Ah. Coming right up. Want lunch, too?" she asked as she filled a frosty mug with draft beer.

Pat thought for a moment, knowing there was nothing at her place to eat. So she nodded.

"Shrimp Po'boy, extra tarter," Angel called to the kitchen. "So, what's up?"

"Just trying to recover from a meeting," she said. "I met the most obnoxious woman today. An environmental wacko, the type that you just want to muzzle to get them to shut up."

"A Mrs. Davenport clone?"

"If only," Pat said with a smile. Angel had never met Mrs. Davenport, but she'd heard all the stories from Pat. "Aunt Rachel volunteered me to shoot photos at that new wildlife thing outside of Rockport."

"What's that?"

"The old Thompson Ranch. Habitats For Nature bought him out and they're turning it into a preserve."

"Well, that'll give you another place to work, won't it?"

Pat narrowed her eyes at Angel and gave her best scowl, only causing Angel to burst out laughing.

"Your tough-guy act doesn't work on me, remember?"

Pat grinned and sipped from her beer.

"Yes, it'll give me another place to work," Pat agreed stiffly. "Only I'm working for free, it seems."

"So, what about this woman? You usually don't let anyone get to you."

"Oh, she's just so gung-ho. Got all upset with me just because I'm not active in the environmental movement. Hell, I like wildlife as much as the next one, probably more. But I'm just not all out there, you know? She just rubbed me the wrong way."

"I see that."

"And to top it off, she's damn attractive," Pat said, finally uttering the thing most bothering her. If the woman had just kept her mouth shut, Pat might have considered asking her out.
"Oh. So not Mrs. Davenport."

"No. She's probably younger than I am. Dr. Carly Cambridge."

"Doctor?"

Pat grunted. "Some environmental degree, no doubt. And I'll be spending the next several weeks if not months, out there working for her."

"Oh, well. Can't be that bad," Angel said and moved away to another customer.

Not that bad? Please . . . the woman would drive her insane.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Pat used the gate key Dr. Cambridge had given her and drove down the dirt road just as the sun was rising over the bay. She stopped and stood on the back of her Jeep, camera pointing to the sunrise. She captured the dunes as they glowed pink, then hurried on past the Visitor's Center and stopped where the trail snaked down to the water. She jogged the last few yards, then fell to her knees, taking several shots of the water as it shimmered with the red and pink reflection of the sun as it rose, seemingly still dripping with water as it hovered above the bay. When the colors changed, she put her camera down and watched, unconscious of the smile that appeared on her face as pelicans flew across the bay.

She had seen more sunrises than she could count but they never failed to thrill her by their beauty. Finally she stood and dusted the sand off her knees and walked slowly back to her Jeep, eyes scanning her surroundings for any sign of movement. She spotted a few seagulls as they started their hunt for food and then the ever-present vultures that left their roost in the oaks. In the winter, she could imagine Osprey as they fished, wings spread beautifully as they soared over the bay. She grudgingly admitted that the preserve was a wonderful idea. The Thompson Ranch had been around forever but the public was never allowed on the property. Now, this part would be opened up for others to enjoy, just as she had enjoyed the sunrise.

She went back to her Jeep and drove the rest of the road until it stopped where the marshes were going to be reconstructed. Earth-moving equipment was already present but no work had begun yet. She took several shots of the flat grassland, trying to envision what it would look like with water instead of grass. Carly had told her they would restore this area first, so that visitors could see their progress and eventually move inland to restore the fifty-something acres that had been filled in by the Thompsons over the years.

She walked on into the woods, trying to get her bearings. She assumed she would spend many mornings out here, hiking. She swatted at a mosquito that was trying to have her for breakfast and knew the number would increase dramatically when the marshes were back. But, food for the birds, she knew. And, it was one of the curses to living near the bay. She had no problems with them on the island.

She walked on until the oak motes became too dense, the underbrush growing so thickly she could not penetrate. She wondered how the deer managed to get around in there but knew they did. She also knew that Dr. Cambridge planned on thinning the underbrush in places and allow the oak trees to grow unimpeded by the thick cover.

Much to her surprise, she found a newly hatched nest of cardinals in the low brush. The male was not at all happy with her appearance so she stayed back and sat for nearly a half-hour until the parents grew accustomed to her and continued to visit the nest. She shot nearly a roll of film on the nest alone.

Finally she stood, her aching muscles complaining at having been cramped too long. She made her way back to her Jeep and drove to the ranch house. Carly's Jeep was parked out front and Pat debated whether to drive right past or stop. She decided to stop.

************

Carly and Elsa were both on the floor, flat on their stomachs as they pulled cables behind the built-in desks. Elsa insisted that they move them and Carly, knowing little about the workings of computers, agreed. A loud voice behind them startled them.

"Am I interrupting?"

Carly banged her head on the desk and cursed. Elsa poked her head out without hitting anything, her eyes widening.

"Mi Dios," she murmured.

Carly looked up, right into long, tanned legs. Her eyes followed their length, finally stopping at the amused face of Pat Ryan. Shit.

"Dr. Cambridge, hello again," she said, squatting down beside the prone woman. "Busy doing environmental stuff, I see."

I hate her. Carly sat up and faced Pat Ryan, her smiling face only inches away.

"You're a little late, aren't you?" She reached behind her and rubbed her head where she'd smacked it.

Pat laughed and leaned back on her heels, away from Carly.

"I was here at sunrise, thank you. Where were you? Still in bed? There's land to preserve, you know. Wildlife to save."

Carly gritted her teeth and ignored the soft chuckle from Elsa. She stood, moving away from the photographer. Pat stood, too, and pulled the cap off her head, letting her dark hair cascade around her face.

"I wanted to shoot the Visitor's Center before the men showed up but I ended up playing with some cardinals instead. I'll try to get it tomorrow," she said.

Carly stared at the woman before her, high cheekbones now framed in dark hair, blue eyes shining back at her. But only for an instant. Pay Ryan secured her hair again and slipped the cap back on.

"Cardinals?"

"Yeah. Found a nest in the brush. Thought it might look good on one of your little brochures," she said.

"Good. Glad you're working."

"I don't believe we've met," Elsa finally said, standing as well. "I'm Elsa Sanchez. Computer nerd."

"Nice to meet you, Elsa. Pat Ryan. I volunteered to photograph this . . . work in progress."

"Yes. I hear your aunt is very persuasive," Elsa said with a smile.

Pat laughed again. "I see you've heard. But, I'm sure it will be enjoyable. Entertaining, at least," she said and smiled at Carly.

"Don't you have to get going and . . . develop something?" Carly asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the woman's presence.

"Well, I can help you down on the floor there, if you need?"

This time Elsa laughed and Carly neatly ignored both her and Pat Ryan. I hate them both.

"We don't need any help, thank you. In fact, we were nearly done."

"Well, then I guess I'll go . . . develop something." Pat grinned at Elsa. "Nice meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you about."

"Same here."

Pat tipped the bill of her cap then turned and walked purposefully from the room, leaving both women staring after her.

"Dios," Elsa said again.

"I really wish you would quit saying that."

"She's . . . outstanding," Elsa murmured. "Do you think she's . . ..?"

"Do I think she's what?"

"You know, gay?"

"How the hell should I know?" Carly exploded. "And why the hell should I care?"

"Sorry."

"Don't start, Elsa," Carly warned.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of it."

"Because for one thing, I don't even like the woman. She's arrogant. I can hardly stand to be around her."

"Yes, I can tell."

"And another thing, she's . . . insufferable," Carly said for lack of finding another suitable word to describe the obnoxious Pat Ryan.

"Yes, insufferable."

"Obnoxious."

"Yes, obnoxious."

Carly turned on Elsa, hands on hips as she glared at her. "Are you mimicking me?"

"Me? Why in the world would you think that?"

Carly pointed at her, shaking her finger in Elsa's face. "Because I know you and I can see the wheels turning. Don't even think about it."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Are you two fighting?" a male voice asked and they both turned to see Martin watching them from the doorway.

Carly recovered first. She moved away from Elsa and towards Martin.

"Of course not, Martin. We don't fight. She just delights in irritating me," Carly said and tossed a glance back at Elsa who stuck her tongue out at her, causing Carly to laugh.

"I'm glad you're here, Martin. You can help me with these cables. Dr. Cambridge has . . . environmental stuff to do," Elsa said.

"I hate you," Carly whispered, but Elsa only grinned, pulling Martin with her. The smile that Martin gave Elsa caused Carly to raise her eyebrows. It appeared Martin was smitten with her assistant.

CHAPTER TWELVE

For all of Pat's skill as a photographer, she lacked the patience to develop her own color prints. Her darkroom was used only for the occasional black and white that she shot. But she was on a first-name basis with a lab in Corpus and she dropped off the three rolls of film she'd shot that morning.

"I'll have it tomorrow, I promise."

"Don't wash out my cardinals, okay?"

Randy grinned. "You're never going to let me live that one down, huh?"

"No. It keeps you on your toes."

"Sure it does. Maybe it makes me nervous," he said.

"Hardly. You're the best."

"Thanks, Pat. Coming from you, that means a lot. I've seen your color prints."

"Yeah. Now you know why I come here. I'll see you tomorrow."

Pat and Randy had a similar conversation nearly every time she dropped off film. At first, he thought it scandalous that a photographer with her reputation would allow someone else to develop her film. But she trusted him completely.

She drove across the bridge back to the island, her thoughts on the ranch and what she would shoot tomorrow. The Visitor's Center, for sure. She wanted to get some shots before it was completely done and Carly said only a few more weeks before they started on the interior. The ranch house, too, looked like it was nearing completion. She wondered if they'd taken any photos of it before they started the renovations. Probably not.

Wonder if Carly will be out and about in the morning, she thought. Probably. She suspected the woman practically lived out there. Then she grinned, remembering the sight of the doctor sprawled on the floor, her tanned legs spread out behind her.

Pat chuckled. The satisfaction she felt at flustering the doctor amused her. She wanted to dislike Carly Cambridge, for all her pompous views, but she'd enjoyed their banter that morning. She assumed the woman wanted to dislike her just as much. And maybe she did.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Carly was dismayed to find Pat Ryan's Jeep already at the site. The sun was barely up and she assumed she would beat her there this morning. Her own Jeep was loaded with some of her things from her apartment. Elsa and Martin had convinced her to start moving into the apartment upstairs. She spent so much time driving back and forth the way it was, it made sense. And Martin was certain that the workers would be out of her hair in two weeks.

She unlocked the ranch house and flipped on the lights, surprised that they had started painting. She'd left early yesterday, shortly after the photographer had tried to drive her insane, and spent the afternoon in her apartment, answering email and putting together their mailing lists. She really needed a secretary, she knew, and hopefully Elsa would be able to assist her as soon as the network was up and running. They could only afford to hire possibly one other full-time staff this year. The rest of the help would be made up of volunteers and Rachel Yearwood had assured her that there were plenty of willing bodies right here in Rockport. Her main concern was the fall migration bird count. She had lined up a few professionals, contacts that she'd made while working for the state, that were going to lend a hand, free of charge. And the local birding club, headed by Mrs. Davenport, would supply the warm bodies. Or so Rachel had promised.

It made Carly a little nervous to think that she was trusting people she'd never met, especially when the outcome would determine the amount of next year's state grant.

"Good morning," a soft voice said next to her ear.

Carly jumped, a hand going to her chest automatically.

"Jesus! Must you do that?"

"Do what?" Pat asked innocently.

"Sneak up on me all the time? Do I need to put bells on you?"

Pat arched one eyebrow and grinned. "That would be interesting, depending where you decided to attach them. But, kinda hard to sneak up on birds, don't you think?"

"Ever heard of knocking?"

"Knocking? I work here. I didn't think I'd have to knock everywhere I went."

"Are you always so difficult, Ms. Ryan?"

Pat paused, tilting her head and meeting Carly's sea-green eyes. "Yes."

"Wonderful," she said dryly. "It'll make the next few months so enjoyable then."

Pat laughed. "You really don't like me, do you?"

Carly's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Pat shrugged. "I guess my glowing personality is not rubbing off on you, huh?"

"Yes, it's rubbing off on me, alright," Carly murmured.

Pat laughed again. "So, are you always this uptight?"

Carly turned, her green eyes flashing. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Uptight? I thought you were a doctor. You don't know what that means?"

Carly closed her eyes as the sudden vision of her flying across the room and attacking the photographer popped into her mind. Her hands were clinched and she wondered if a quick punch to the face would ensue jail time.

Instead, she silently counted to ten, no twenty, then opened her eyes, looking right into the blue ones of the woman standing next to her. Amused blue ones, she noted. In fact, they nearly danced and a ghost of a smile appeared on her own face. The woman was insufferable, but damn, those eyes . . ..

"So, you need help unpacking? I noticed your Jeep was loaded down."

Carly was about to decline the offer, then realized it would take her several trips up and down the stairs alone.

"I'm not interrupting your work?" she asked, pointing to the camera hung around Pat's neck.

"No. I took some in the Visitor's Center already. I want to take some outside, once the workers show up. Oh, Dr. Cambridge, I noticed a road going back into the brush, behind the ranch house. Where does that go?"

"Behind this first line of oak motes, they'd cleared spots for grazing. There's an old barn and whatnot. There are actually several roads back there, snaking across the property. In the fall, they used to lease it out to day hunters. There were tree stands all over the place," she said. And then, "You can call me Carly. Dr. Cambridge is so . . .."

"Stuffy sounding?" Pat supplied.

"I was going to say formal."

"Oh. I was going to say uptight."

Carly walked out towards her Jeep. "Why is it every time I'm around you, I just want to throttle you?"

"Throttle me? Well, you know, I haven't been throttled in quite a while now. Could be fun," she teased.

Carly bit back a grin and shoved a box into Pat's arms. "Upstairs."

"Yes, ma'am."

Carly watched her walk off, not immune to the long tanned legs, silky dark hair and blue, blue eyes. She sighed. It would be so much easier to dislike her if she wasn't so damn attractive. And, Carly had to admit, her sense of humor, though somewhat demented, was engaging.

"Hey, there's like . . . an apartment up here," Pat called.

"Good. Then they didn't lie to me," Carly called back. With arms loaded, she climbed the stairs, finding Pat in the bedroom.

"Great view," she said, pointing out the windows as they opened to the bay.

Carly followed her gaze and nodded. Actually, this was the first time she'd been in here. She'd only checked out her office, to her, the most important room. She could sleep anywhere.

"No bed?"

Carly turned around, seeing only the new dresser she'd found at an antique shop in Rockport.

"I have an apartment in town," she said. "I'll probably move the furniture over the weekend."

"Well, need some help?" Pat offered.

"Oh, no," Carly shook her head. "That's okay. Martin and Elsa will help. We should be able to manage."

"Really, I don't mind helping." Then, she flexed her right arm, showing off her well-defined biceps. She pointed at it and grinned. "Strong as an ox."

Carly couldn't help but laugh. "Stubborn as one, too," she murmured as she walked back downstairs.

"I heard that, Doctor."

Together, it only took them three trips to unload the Jeep. And actually, it wouldn't take Carly long to move. She's only been in the apartment since January and she had not bothered to unpack everything. She knew she would be moving to the ranch eventually. And hopefully, in a year or so, they would be able to hire a full-time manager and Carly could get her life somewhat back to normal. And of course, then she could concentrate on environmental stuff, as Pat would say.

"Thank you for helping," Carly said.

"No problem. I'm just hanging around until the activity starts up."

Pat leaned against the doorframe and fidgeted with her camera. She watched Carly as she stood on the porch, hands shoved into the pockets of her shorts and surveyed the ranch. She eyes moved from the bay to the Visitor's Center, then finally to Pat. Without thinking, Pat raised the camera and captured Carly just as she turned questioning eyes to her.

"I'm not part of the wildlife," Carly murmured.

"No?" Pat lowered the camera and grinned. "Sorry. The light was perfect. Couldn't resist. Besides, surely we'll want one of you in the brochures?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? Don't you think donors will want to know who is going to spend their money?"

"I think they would rather see on what it will be spent than by whom," Carly stated.

Pat shrugged. "You're the boss."

"And speaking of the brochure, when do you think you'll have enough pictures to start? I'd like to begin the initial mailing as soon as possible."

"Why don't you explain to me the different mailing cycles that you're going to do," Pat suggested.

"Sure. Why don't we walk down to the bay while we talk."

Pat fell in line next to Carly as they made their way down the dirt road. The sun was already creeping higher in the sky and out of habit, Pat scanned the horizon, looking for movement.

"We've secured mailing lists from most of the environmental and conservation groups. These potential donors will be the ones that'll send in ten or twenty bucks here and there. These are the ones we'll send the smaller brochures to and where we'll start. The large, multi-page brochure that we're going to do will be sent to known donors across the nation who are more likely to send in hundreds of dollars. That'll be our second wave. By the end of the year, I hope to have a booklet put together that we can send to local business owners and some of the larger corporations in the area. And I want posters," she said. "We'll put those in shop windows around Rockport and Port Aransas. I want to get those up before tourist season, which gives us about a month."

"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."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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.

When the sun started creeping above the waves, she turned and retraced her steps, her eyes locked on the sun as it rose miraculously out of the surf. Her steps faltered with the beauty of it, yet again. Pinks turned to red, then orange, as the giant orb climbed higher on the horizon. She finally stopped and stared, letting the beauty surround her. When the colors faded, she picked up her pace, racing the last several yards to her front steps.

She stopped on the bottom step and looked up at her old beach house. It needed a paint job, she knew. She had been putting it off. She didn't want the commotion of painters hanging around for days as they painted the relic. But her neighbors would be happy, she suspected. Hers was the shabbiest of all the houses on this stretch.

"Later in the summer," she said to no one.

She brought her coffee and juice outside and sat, watching the endless procession of waves as they crashed on the surf. The beach was coming alive as other joggers followed her path of earlier. She picked up the stack of prints and shuffled through them, picking out several that she thought would look nice in the brochure. The shots she'd taken of the cardinals had turned out great and she hoped Carly would want to use at least one of them. Actually, there was one she was quite pleased with and she thought it would make a great centerpiece for the Visitor's Center. The male cardinal had been guarding the nest, glaring at Pat, but behind him, four hungry mouths stood wide open, begging for food.

She should really get going. She had no idea what time the big move was taking place and she should have suggested meeting them at Carly's apartment to help load furniture. Well, she assumed they would be making more than one trip anyway.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Dr. Cambridge, you've got to lift your side up a little," Martin hissed as the entire weight of the bookcase fell against him.

"Martin, I've told you a hundred times, my name is Carly," she grunted as she tried to lift the bottom of the bookcase. It wasn't moving. "I can't," she said. "Shit."

The bookcase was her favorite piece of furniture. Her desk was a close second. But this piece was so beautiful. Hand-carved over a hundred years ago, her grandfather had given it to her when he retired.

"Do you need help?" Elsa asked as she stood behind Martin, her hands perched importantly on her hips.

"Elsa, you're smaller than I am," Carly said. "Why don't we leave it for later?" she suggested. "Pat Ryan said she would be out today and offered to help. Maybe we can get her to make a trip over here later."

"Well, she looks strong," Martin said.

"As an ox," Carly said without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Elsa said.

"Nothing," Carly murmured. "We're going to have to make two trips anyway."

"I told you to get a bigger trailer," Elsa said for the second time.

"Do you want me to slap you?"

"Girls," Martin warned. "You know, we could have hired someone to do this."

"What would be the fun in that?" Elsa asked.

"Come on. I'm getting cranky," Carly said. "Let's take this load. We'll get the rest later."

"Getting cranky? You were there at eight this morning," Elsa teased.

"Elsa, watch your mouth or I'll send you back to Austin," Carly threatened.

"As if, chica. You need me."

Carly relaxed. Yes, she needed Elsa. As a friend and a co-worker. Elsa knew all her secrets. She was the best kind of friend.

Carly drove her Jeep and Martin and Elsa followed in Martin's truck, pulling the trailer. She should have asked her brothers to come over from Corpus to help. She knew that they would have. But she didn't want to burden them on a Saturday. Much better to beg help from friends than family.

She was pleased to find Pat's Jeep at the ranch when they pulled up, although the woman was nowhere to be found. The three of them were tussling with Carly's desk about half-way up the stairs when she appeared in the doorway.

"I see that the desk is winning," Pat said with a grin. "Are you going up or down?"

"Mi Dios," Elsa murmured. "She should wear more clothes. She's not safe . . . bella.""

Carly glanced over Martin's head and met Pat's laughing eyes. Then her eyes took in the perfect shoulders exposed by the tiny tank top she wore. Perfect?

"A little help?" Carly managed.

Pat nodded and moved behind Martin.
"If I get up there, can you handle this end?" she asked him.

"I think so."

Pat squeezed between the desk and Elsa, their bodies brushing as Elsa was pressed against the wall.

"Mi Dios," she said again as Pat moved away from her.

She fanned her face dramatically and Carly rolled her eyes. Elsa was such a pushover. But when Pat joined her at the end of the desk, their bare thighs touching as they both lifted the end, Carly felt her own blush creeping onto her face. The woman was so . . . powerful. The desk lifted with ease and she couldn't pull her eyes away from the woman's arms as muscles strained with the weight of the desk. Mi Dios.

"Where to, doc?"

"Office," Carly said. "Second door down."

Once the desk was situated, they alternated taking boxes up the stairs and moving furniture. The move was going smoother than Carly had anticipated and she knew it was because Pat had joined them. She was much stronger than she looked and Pat and Martin moved the sofa up the stairs as she and Elsa looked on from below. Carly found she couldn't look away from the long length of legs that were exposed by Pat's shorts. She had runner's legs and Carly could picture her jogging along the beach in skimpy shorts and sports bra. Then she shook her head, wondering where in the world that image had come from.

"I like her, Carly," Elsa said quietly. "Diosa . . . a goddess." Then she grinned. "She almost makes me wish I were gay."

Carly playfully hit her arm, then pulled her outside, shoving another box into her arms.

"Why do you assume she's gay?"

"Oh, come on. For one thing, no man could handle her. But, you know, she just has that look about her. That one, she would be a handful. A heartbreaker. I don't know if even a woman could handle her. She's just so . . .."

"Powerful," Carly murmured, speaking her thoughts aloud. "And overbearing and obnoxious," she added.

"Where the hell do you want this?" a voice called out the opened window above their heads. They both looked up and found Pat staring down at them.

"Coming," Carly said. Jesus, if she just wasn't so damn attractive.

That same though echoed again as they found Pat draped across the sofa. Her legs were parted and Carly found her eyes creeping along their length to where her shorts were bunched between her legs. . . Jesus!

She turned away with a slight blush and pretended to survey the room, anything to avoid looking at the woman sprawled on her sofa. Should it face the windows and the open view of the bay? Or face the back wall where her TV would go once they had the entertainment center moved in? She seldom watched TV. She would move her recliner in the corner. She could see the TV from there.

"Here," she pointed. "Facing the windows."

"Excellent choice," Pat said. "You're going to see some great sunrises."

"That would mean, of course, that you'd have to get up in time," Elsa teased. "Or have your sleeping habits changed?"

"We don't really need to discuss my sleeping habits," Carly said. "And yes, they have changed, thank you very much."

Elsa laughed. "She used to be cranky as hell when she had an early morning class."

"No wonder you're usually in a foul mood when I see you in the mornings," Pat said with just a hint of a smile.

"No. That has absolutely nothing to do with the time of day," Carly shot back and they all laughed.

"Come on, Martin. Let's get the rest of the boxes," Elsa said and grabbed Martin's hand and led him from the room. Carly didn't miss the flirtatious glance that Elsa gave him.

"Thank you, by the way. We couldn't have done this without you," Carly said and lightly touched Pat's arm as she walked past. "But, I think the hard part's done."

"Carly?"

Carly turned. It was the first time she'd heard Pat call her by name. She liked the sound of it.

"You shouldn't lie to the help, you know."

"What do you mean?"

Pat walked over to her and playfully pinched her cheek. "Martin told me about the bookcase. He said I would hate you after we moved it."

Carly laughed. "But, you said yourself, you're as strong as an ox."

"Yes. But I think you'll probably owe me dinner for this."

Carly watched her walk away, not liking the accelerated beat of her heart. She reached up and touched her cheek where Pat had gently squeezed. Oh, don't go there, she told herself. It would be nothing but trouble.

But even with Pat's help, the bookcase was still a bitch to move. It took all four of them to haul it up the stairs and even then, they stopped twice to rest.

"Tell me again why we didn't hire a moving company?" Elsa asked.

"I only have a few heavy pieces," Carly said. "It's not like I have a house full of furniture."

"Let's see. Bed, sofa, entertainment center, that bitch of a desk," Elsa checked off on her fingers. "Table," she added.

"The table is small."

"This monster."

"This and the desk belonged to my grandfather. He had them in his office."

"They're beautiful," Pat said. "Heavy as hell, but beautiful."

When they finally managed to get it into her office, it was Martin who spoke first.

"Dr. Cambridge . . . Carly, please be sure of where you want it. I think I speak for all of us when I say, once it's down, it's down."

"You mean, I can't try all four walls to see where I like it best?"

"Here," Elsa pointed. It was the wall closest to where they stood.

"Wimp. I want it over there, closer to the desk."

"Are you sure?" Pat asked.

Carly turned around and surveyed the room. Martin tapped his fingers impatiently on the wood. Elsa rolled her eyes. Pat watched Carly's every move.

"Yes. This wall," she said.

"Okay. On three," Pat said and they all pushed and shoved the giant bookcase against the wall.

"Next time, we're hiring men," Elsa stated as she leaned against Martin. "Big, burly men."

"What are you saying?" Martin asked.

"Oh, chico, nothing against you," Elsa said. "You're very strong. But, I mean, like . . . burly, you know?"

"Elsa, you better stop while you're ahead," Pat suggested.

"How about pizza and beer? My treat, of course," Carly said.

"Of course it's your treat," Elsa said. "But I don't really feel like going out. Why don't we go back to my apartment, since I still have chairs, and order in?"

"Okay. I'll stop and get some beer on the way," Carly agreed. "Pat? Martin? That okay with you?"

They all agreed and Martin and Elsa left away first, Martin pulling the now empty trailer behind him. Pat waited at the entrance while Carly locked the gate.

"I'm going to stop at the liquor store for beer," Carly said as she walked up to Pat's Jeep. "Is beer okay or would you rather have something else?"

"No, no, that's fine," Pat said. "Do you want me to go with you or just meet you at Elsa's?"

"You go ahead. I won't be long."

Carly followed Pat's Jeep down the winding road until they reached the highway. Then, she let Pat pull away from her as she took her time. She was really tired and she suspected they all must be. It had been a full day, but fun nonetheless. She enjoyed Pat being there today. Of course, without her help, they never would have managed. And, she had to admit, she liked the woman. She would never admit this to anyone else, but in oh so many years, she felt a tingle of attraction to another woman. She would allow it to go no farther, she knew, but still, it was there.

When she arrived at Elsa's apartment, lugging in a case of Corona and a bag of limes, they were all sprawled on the floor, already drinking.

"I ordered two large pizza," Elsa told her.

"Good."

Pat got up to help her with the beer and they crammed twelve into the fridge.

"That'll do for now," Pat said, snagging another one. She pulled out a lime and sliced it into several wedges, passing it around to the others.

"I feel like I've been beaten," Elsa stated. "Just in case you wanted to know," she told Carly.

"And just in case I haven't said thank you enough . . .."

"Don't worry. I'll bring this up on numerous occasions during the summer. Whenever I need a day off because my back still hurts."

"I'm sure you will."

"How long have you two known each other?" Pat asked.

"College," Elsa said. "We lost touch for awhile, then ended up working together in Austin."

"Yeah, until you escaped and went back to college." She turned to Pat. "We worked for the State. But our ideals were shattered by politics. Elsa was smarter than me and left. I hung on, still hoping I could make a difference."

"I don't doubt that you managed that somehow. I can't see you taking no for an answer," Pat said.

"You've heard of the Edwards Aquifer?"

"Yeah. San Antonio gets its water from there, right?"

"Yes, among others. But it spreads all the way to Austin. It was my project. I did research for years and they were killing it, draining it dry. Too much development, too much runoff. The streams were drying up, thus the springs were, too. But, it was all politics. The developers had money and politicians love money."

"Now you've done it," Elsa warned Pat. "She'll go on for hours now if we don't stop her."

Carly laughed. "I'm over it, Elsa."

"Sure you are. That's why you still send hate mail to a former governor . . . who is now in the White House."

"I do not send hate mail." Then she grinned. "At least, not any more."

The pizzas arrived and they all dug in, devouring both of them until only one piece remained. Pat and Martin both eyed it, but politely offered it to the other. Elsa finally tore it in half and watched as they fought for the largest piece.

Carly offered them all another beer, but Pat declined.

"I live on the island. I should really get going," she said. She'd had a wonderful time. She didn't really know these people, but they had included her in their conversations and she'd enjoyed herself. She'd made new friends and Carly had warmed up to her, too. In fact, they hadn't had a single argument all day. Not really. The herons, well, Pat had just been teasing Carly.

"I can't thank you enough," Carly said as she walked her to the door.

"No, you can't," Pat teased. Then she lowered her voice. "Don't think this counted for the dinner that you owe me."

"I never thought it did," Carly said easily.

"See you two later," Pat called to Elsa and Martin. Then she paused at the door. "We still need to get together and go over the brochure. I've got some photos I want you to look at."

"Okay. I should have printed it out for you today, but I didn't think of it," Carly said. "If you're out and about tomorrow, come by the ranch. I'll be there. If not, Monday?"

"I'm doing some work out this way in the morning. After I'm done, maybe I'll swing by."

"Good."

Carly watched her, long legs and arms still bare. Pat went to the back of her Jeep, then pulled on a sweatshirt. Yes, she imagined the ride back to the island would be cold in the opened Jeep. Pat looked up and saw her watching, then lifted one hand in a wave as she drove away.

"You going to stand there all night?" Elsa asked.

"No, sorry," Carly said and closed the door.

"I guess I should be going, too," Martin said. "I promised my mother I would take her to church in the morning."

"Is all of your family here?" Elsa asked him.

"Just my mother and one sister. I'm from The Valley, most everyone still lives down there."

"Martin, thanks again," Carly said. "I know it wasn't exactly in your job description."

"No problem, Dr. Cambridge."

"Carly, please. I'd like to think we've become friendly enough to use first names."
"I'm sorry. Habit."

"Martin, I enjoyed spending time with you," Elsa told him as she walked him to the door, much like Carly had done Pat.

"Me, too. Goodnight, ladies."

"Buenas noches," Elsa replied.

Elsa closed the door and leaned against it and closed her eyes.

"I don't know what it is, but he does something to me," she finally said.

"Martin?"

"Yes, Martin. Who else?"

"Well, I had hoped you weren't just flirting with him all day for the fun of it," Carly teased.

"I was not flirting." She began clearing away the empty pizza boxes, then looked up. "Has he been married?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good Lord, he's not still married?"

Carly laughed. "No. Actually, I think he's been single for quite awhile. I got the impression he was married and divorced down in The Valley. He's been living in Corpus for about five years."

Elsa digested this news with a frown. "Must be a reason he's still single, then."

"Elsa, you're still single," Carly pointed out.

"Well, he just seems like a normal man, you know. They're kinda hard to find these days."

"Yes, Martin is wonderful. Very dependable, trustworthy. He came highly recommended when I was looking for help with this project."

"And I'm certainly glad you hired him. Now, what about Pat?" Elsa asked, changed the subject.

"What about her?"

"You seemed to get along with her today. I didn't notice any quibbling, other than the argument over the herons," Elsa said.

"They were egrets. Who can't tell the difference between a heron and an egret?"

"Obviously your photographer."

"I think she just likes to argue with me. She seems to get great joy out of irritating me."

"So I noticed. But it was really nice of her to help out today."

"Yes, it was. I mean, we're all practically strangers to her, but she fit right in."

Elsa smiled at her, then patted her cheek. "Good."

"Good? Good, what?"

"Just good."

"Elsa . . .." Carly warned.

"Elsa what?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"You couldn't possibly. Your thoughts don't go in that direction, remember?"

"I can still beat the crap out of you," Carly warned.

"In your dreams, chica."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Pat found her aunt sitting on the deck, sipping a Bloody Mary while she read the Sunday paper.

"Pat? My, my, back from church already?"

Pat grinned. It was a running joke with them.

"Yes. I see you took in the early Mass."

"And I sang in the choir. Needed a little something to soothe my throat," Aunt Rachel said, pointing at her drink. "Want one?"

"Sure. Breakfast?"

"No. It is past the breakfast hour, you know that.. Brunch. Alice is making omelets. Let her know you're here. Oh, and freshen this up, will you?" she asked, handing Pat her nearly empty glass.

Aunt Rachel put the paper aside when Pat rejoined her at the table.

"Perfect," she said after sipping the fresh Bloody Mary. "I taught you well."

"You know perfectly well this is Angel's recipe," Pat said.

"Oh, pooh. I was making these before Angel was even born. Now, tell me what you've been doing all week. Mrs. Davenport says you sneaked onto her property one day."

Pat laughed. "Where was she hiding? I wanted to get some close-ups, which is impossible to do with her running her mouth the whole time."

"What about Dr. Cambridge? She hasn't called to complain, so I assume you kept your appointment."

"Yes, Aunt Rachel, I kept your appointment. And as I suspected, she was a little on the nutty side," Pat said.

"What do you mean? She's perfectly normal."

"Normal? I meant her views. I called her an environmental wacko and it didn't even phase her."

"You what? Patricia, Dr. Cambridge is so . . . wonderful. She is so passionate about her cause."

"Patricia?"

"She genuinely cares about this land and the wildlife. She has no hidden agendas. She's not out to make money by scheming donations from poor, old widowed women like me. And believe me, you would be surprised at how many people try to take advantage of that."

"Poor? Aren't you exaggerating?"

"I didn't mean poor, as in no money."

"Yes, I know what you meant. And aren't you exaggerating? You're the least helpless woman I know."

"Why, thank you. I think that was a compliment. Now, tell me what you're doing to help Dr. Cambridge."

Pat shrugged. "I helped her move."

"I meant with your camera. Move where?"

"To the top floor of the ranch house. The bottom floor will be offices, but she's going to live upstairs."

"Why did you help her move?"

Pat shrugged again. "I was out there anyway. She wants to put the first brochure together this week."

"So you've already been taking pictures?"

"Yes. I've been out there quite a bit this week. In fact, I'm supposed to go out today and we're going to go over the prints that I have and decide which ones she wants to use."

Aunt Rachel smiled and grabbed her hand.

"Thank you, Pat. I knew once you met her, you would warm up to this idea. It's hard to say no to her."

"Yes. I found that out."

"So, I know you said you had some deadline," Aunt Rachel said. "Can you do both? I would really feel terrible if this is going to take up too much of your time, you know."

"I'll manage. Thanks to Mrs. Davenport," she added. "I've got my ten nests. The clouds this morning aren't helping, though. And it's supposed to rain this week, so that'll cut into my time."

"Oh, well, we can't control the weather. I should warn you though, Mrs. Davenport has listed all the nests on the birding hotline."

"Son of a bitch! What in the hell is she thinking?"

"She's thinking you don't own them."

"Goddamnit! That woman is going to drive me completely insane!"

"Oh, calm down. She helped you, didn't she?"

"The woman's a fruitcake," Pat said. "I think she just likes the attention."

"Yes. You may be right. Although, you should really be nicer to her. I think I've got her talked into donating money to Dr. Cambridge."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I may have mentioned that you would be happy to show her around the new place, maybe take her . . .."

"What? Have you lost your mind? Aunt Rachel, the woman is damn near crazy. I'm not going to show her around the ranch."

"Pat, she's worth millions, surely you know that."

"I don't give a shit! That has nothing to do with me."

"Think of Dr. Cambridge, then."

"Oh, Jesus . . . Aunt Rachel, why do you do this to me?"

"Because I don't have any children of my own to torment."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Carly was unpacking yet another box. She hated moving. But it wasn't like she'd gotten used to the apartment. In fact, she hated the apartment. Especially her upstairs neighbors, who were apparently night people, and came and went at all hours of the night. That, she would not miss.

She stood in her living room and looked around. It was coming together. She had spent the entire morning putting her kitchen in order, then moved to her office. She'd actually hooked up her computer last night and unpacked several boxes of books. Once she had everything set up, she did remember to print out the brochure, just in case Pat stopped by today.

Now, after stopping long enough to eat canned soup for lunch, she was tackling the living room. The first thing she did was hook up her stereo. She sorted through her box of CDs and pulled out a Sarah Mclaughlin, setting the volume high while she stacked her CDs, all in alphabetical order. Then, she added the few DVDs she owned.

The framed prints she loved were leaning against various walls. She would hang them later. She stared at one in particular, that of a Whooping Crane at sunrise, and it reminded her of the one on Pat Ryan's website. Maybe later . . . someday, she would inquire about buying one of Pat's.

"Hey."

"Jesus!" Carly jumped, hand going to her racing heart.

"Sorry. I need bells, I know," Pat said with a grin.

"How do you do that?"

Pat shrugged. "Lots of practice. But I did knock."

"Where?" Carly asked.

"On the front door."

Carly hit the remote, turning the music down and faced Pat. Today, she wore jeans and Carly thought she looked even more attractive than she did in shorts, if that were possible. She suddenly felt terribly underdressed. Her old sweat pants were baggy and worn and the T-shirt she'd grabbed that morning had see better days.

"I guess I need a doorbell," Carly said.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, of course not. I'm just unpacking. I printed out the brochure for you earlier," Carly said and she moved past Pat and into her office. When she turned, Pat was standing in the doorway.

"Looks good," Pat said. "The desk and bookcase . . . beautiful pieces."

"Thanks. My grandfather had them forever in his office. When he retired, he gave them to me."

"Retired? From?"

"He was an attorney. As are my father and both brothers," Carly said.

"Why didn't you follow?"

"I just didn't have the calling, I guess. I always wanted to be a vet. My grandfather was the only one who supported my decision."

"But you're not a vet. Or are you?"

"I was two semesters away and switched to Wildlife Biology. I thought I could make more of a difference that way. But I was young. I didn't realize all the obstacles."

"Politics?"

"Politics and indifference."

"Well, we do tend to take things for granted," Pat said.

"Yes, most people do." Carly stopped before she launched into one of her sermons. "Let's go to the table. Do you have photos?" she asked.

Pat held up the envelope she'd had tucked under her arm. She followed Carly, smiling at the baggy sweats she wore. She looked comfortable. Adorable, she added, surprised at her thoughts.

Pat handed the envelope to Carly and took the printed brochure. She pulled out a chair and began reading, hearing Carly's voice in the words. Concise and to the point, no sugar-coating. She frowned. It needed sugar-coating, she realized.

Carly spread the prints out, her eyes widening. They were great. God, the sunrise over the bay was beautiful. She smiled. Pat's cardinals. She ran her finger over the nest, as if to touch the young. Then she laughed. The male was definitely defending his nest.

"This one's great," she said.

"Yes. I thought that would make a great print. For the Visitor's Center," Pat said. "Aunt Rachel said you wanted some to display there."

"Yes, we do. But this is very good. I mean, this is your profession. You could sell this."

"I shot it on your time," Pat said.

"It's not like I'm paying you. And this doesn't really reflect the preserve. We're all about shorebirds and ducks and marshes," she said.

"Well, obviously, cardinals live here, too."

"You're very good."

"Why, thank you, Dr. Cambridge. I know you had your doubts."

"Not really. I checked out your website."

"Ah, so you did have your doubts."

Carly laughed. "Okay, yes. After our first meeting, I may have had my doubts. I thought maybe Rachel sent you here just to irritate the hell out of me."

"And I thought she was doing it just to irritate me."

"What do you think of the brochure?"

Pat raised her eyes and met green ones for just an instant. "It's . . . harsh," she said. "It doesn't paint a very pretty picture."

"It's not supposed to. The marshes have been destroyed. The land has been changed to meet man's needs . . . and cows needs. Of course it's harsh."

Pat shook her head. "If I got this in the mail, I would think all was lost and I would not want to give a dime."

With hands on her hips, Carly glared at Pat. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"This. It's all doom and gloom. I'm depressed reading it. It doesn't give me the warm fuzzies."

"You're supposed to be depressed reading it. That's what makes people give money."

"You're joking? No, I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes. People want to feel like they're giving to a good cause. Something with a bright future. You paint this dismal picture, as if all hope is lost. What good is money going to do to help this place? You've already doomed it."

"As if you know anything about preserving land!"

"I'm just saying, we're contradicting ourselves here. You paint this dismal picture of this place, yet we put pretty pictures in the brochure of birds. What are we telling people?"

"We're telling people this is what it could be."

"Why not tell them the land's been fucked over but you're restoring it and look, beautiful cardinals are already nesting here."

They stared at each other, green eyes locking on blue for an instant, then Carly smiled and Pat did the same.

"Okay. It's fucked. Let's tell them that," Carly said and laughed.

"Carly, the statistics are great, the outlook is great but in between, it sucks."

"Jesus, I hate you, you know that?"

"Yes, I figured."

"Okay. Just, everything's always been black and white with me. I have a hard time glossing over things."

"I think you should focus on what's being done to improve and restore this place instead of what's been done to destroy it. Talk about restoring the marshes, talk about wanting the Whooping Crane to locate here, talk about the hundreds of ducks and shorebirds that can make this their home. That's what people want to give money to."

Carly stared at her, wondering where the indifferent photographer had gone. The woman speaking these words was sounding like an activist.

"You're not quite as uncaring and indifferent as you make yourself out to be, huh?"

Pat smiled. "I guess I never really thought much about it before."

Carly sighed. "Okay. You're probably right. I was on my soapbox when I was writing this." She pulled the brochure from Pat's hands, scanning the words she'd written, seeing them with different eyes. Yes, it was harsh. Yes, it was dismal. God, she hated her.

"Got any beer in this place?" Pat finally asked.

Carly looked up, embarrassed. She was a terrible host. "I'm sorry, yes." She moved to get up but Pat stopped her.

"I'll get it. Want one?"

"Please."

Carly continued reading the brochure, mentally making changes. She noticed the beer Pat put in front of her and she reached for it silently, her eyes still scanning the document.

"You don't mention the Visitor's Center in much detail," Pat said. "That'll be the first thing people see when they come here, the first place they go. Why don't you talk about what you want the Visitor's Center to be," Pat suggested.

"Perhaps I should let you write this. You seem to be the only one with ideas."

"No. I have a hard enough time writing captions for my photos." Then she shuffled through the stack on the table, finding the ones of herons and egrets she'd shot previously. "What about these? Don't you think we could use something like this to show what will be here eventually?"

Carly studied them, each bird captured uniquely in its setting. Yes, they could use them.

"Shorebirds?" she asked.

Pat found some others. Unidentified shorebirds, she liked to call them. They all looked alike to her.

"Greater Yellowlegs. Willet. Marbled Godwit, that's a great shot," Carly said as she named them.

Pat stared, stunned.

"Hopefully, these will all be here. Yes, we can use them. I'll rewrite this. We can include these, along with your cardinals, of course. I'm supposed to meet with the printer Wednesday afternoon. Do you think you can go with me?"

Pat still stared at the prints. "How do you know what these are? They're not in the goddamn field guide," she said.

"Of course they are," Carly said.

"They're not in my field guide," Pat said.

"They're in all field guides, Pat. Can you go with me, please?" Carly asked again.

"Yes. I'll go with you."

"Good. It's in Corpus. There's no point in you coming all the way out here just to go back again. I'll pick you up."

"Okay. When you get off the ferry, stay on the main road and go to the third light. Go right on Sandpiper. Take the second left, Gulf View . . .."

"I should probably write this down," Carly said. She found pad and pen. "Okay, right on Sandpiper. Second left, Gulf View."

"Right on Perry's Landing. Fourth house down."

"About two?"

"That's fine. And I'm sorry if I offended you with all this," Pat said, pointing at the brochure that lay between them.

"No. In fact, I should thank you. No one's read it other than you. To me, it made perfect sense. I guess I wasn't looking at it objectively."

"Well, I better head back. Supposed to rain later. My Jeep is still topless."

"Yes, mine too. I guess I'll pull it into the old barn out back."

"Well, if the weather holds, I may be out this way. If not, I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Thanks, Pat. I really appreciate everything you're doing."

"No problem. I'm actually beginning to like it myself. All this environmental stuff is brainwashing me, I think."

Carly walked down the stairs with Pat, just now noticing the dark clouds gathering over the bay. Rain for sure tonight.

"Be careful," she said as Pat slammed the door to her Jeep. She doubted Pat would make it home before the rain hit. She had half a mind to ask her to stay.

Later, as she sat at her computer rewriting the verbiage for the brochure, she thought of Pat. She really had no intention of liking her as much as she did. In fact, after their first meeting, she was certain she could not stand to be in the same room with the woman. But, as Elsa had said, she was a goddess. One of the most attractive women Carly had ever met. Her thoughts went to Carol, the woman who had used her so thoroughly all those years ago. She, too, had been attractive. Too attractive. And Carly had been too blind to see anything but that. Carol had wined and dined her and before Carly knew what happened, she had fallen in love. She had sold her soul. And almost lost her life.

She had vowed she would never again give herself to another person. The pain was too great. She poured herself into her work and was never even tempted by another woman.

Why, then, did Pat Ryan fill her thoughts?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The skies opened as Pat sat helplessly on the ferry. She found the sweatshirt she kept crammed between the seats and pulled it on, cursing herself for not pulling the top up on the Jeep before she left Carly. Little good it would have done. She didn't have the windows with her. By the time she pulled into her driveway and parked under her stilted beach house, she was soaked. Her wet hair was plastered to her back and she went straight to her utility room and stripped off her wet clothes.

After a hot shower, she poured a glass of wine and sat in the dark, watching the lightening as it danced over the gulf.

Her thoughts drifted to Carly and she smiled slightly. Without really trying, she seemed to irritate the woman to no end. Oh, but she was damn cute. Especially when she got riled and her green eyes flashed. Which was often. Pat's normal impatience with people, women, didn't seem to apply to Carly. Pat found she enjoyed the other woman's company. Actually, what Pat found refreshing was Carly's indifference to her. Pat wasn't naŒve about her looks. She had used to it her advantage on numerous occasions, in fact. But Carly seemed oblivious, even though she was obviously gay. Maybe Carly was involved with someone in Austin. Maybe that was the reason for her indifference.

But still, Pat noticed the attraction she felt for the other woman. She'd hardly recognized it at first . . . they had been too busy arguing. But the blonde woman who was so devoted to her cause still managed to stir Pat's libido.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The rain that had started on Sunday afternoon lingered until Tuesday. Pat paced back and forth in front of her windows, watching the waves churn angrily against the wet sand. A mist, even a light rain, Pat could handle. She could still get out and run, if nothing else. But this, this continuous downpour had her stuck inside for the second day.

"Fuck it." She had to get out.

She had put the top on the Jeep yesterday morning, but the seats were still damp. She put a dry towel down and turned the heater on high. Pat hated April. Some days, so warm you would swear summer was making an early appearance. Then, like today, cold and damp, making you wonder if the brief winter they enjoyed was still hanging on.

She drove through the downpour, her wipers barely keeping up with the rain. There was only one car at The Shrimp Shack. It was Angel's. She pulled the hood of her raincoat over her cap and ran inside, stopping to wipe her muddy boots on the mat.

"I figured I'd see you today," Angel said.

"I hate this shit. I have cabin fever," she stated.

"Beer?"

"Sure. I've got nothing else to do." Pat looked around the empty bar. "I guess I'm the only one that braved the weather?"

"Oh, we had a handful at lunch, that was it. You eating?"

"No. Had a delicious frozen dinner earlier." Pat took a swallow from her beer, then put it down on the coaster Angel had provided.

"Hey, Lannie has the weekend off. She said to invite you over for dinner Saturday night."

"Please tell me she's not trying to set me up again," Pat said.

"No. She knows you're hopeless."

"So you're actually taking a Saturday off?"

"I'm taking the whole weekend off. We haven't spent an entire weekend together in months."

Pat's cell phone interrupted them and she searched her coat, finally finding it in one of the pockets. She checked the ID before answering.

"Aunt Rachel? What's up?" Pat asked.

"Where are you?"

"Are you checking up on me again?"

"I'm simply trying to find you. Dr. Cambridge called, looking for you. Apparently, you didn't leave her any phone numbers. She said she needed you."

Pat raised her eyebrows and grinned. "She needs me?"

"She found a nest. Egrets. She was very excited."

"It's been raining for two days. When did she get out to find a nest?"

"She didn't go into details. But she was very excited. I told her I would hunt you down."

Pat looked out the window at the steady rain. She didn't relish driving to Rockport and the ranch in this. She certainly didn't want to go outside in it, looking for a damn egret. But, the idea of seeing Carly, a possibly wet and soaked Carly, appealed to her. Oh well, she didn't have anything better to do.

"Okay. You can call her back and tell her I'm on the way to her rescue. I'm just going to finish my beer."

"Tell Angel hello for me."

"And what makes you think I'm here?"

"Where else would you be in this mess?"