“It’s not right what they want to do here,” Holly’s father Clark Rivera had written. “Dredge The Gap, put up hotels on Isla del Tesoro. And a gambling barge. Can you believe it? It will change the entire character of The Island.”
Would that be so terrible? Holly wondered. She sipped coffee from a cup that she had found in the kitchen of her parents’ house. The glazed ironstone mug with a U.S. Navy insignia had been her father’s. Feet propped on the back deck’s railing, she looked out over the water of The Gap, a shallow inlet from the Texas Intracoastal Waterway cutting almost—but not quite—through Isla del Tesoro to the Gulf of Mexico. As a child she had always enjoyed sitting on the back deck, watching the sun rise over the water and following the flight of shore birds as they crossed the apricot sky.
She watched a flock of brown pelicans fly single file, evenly spaced, flapping muscular wings almost in unison. The leader caught an air current and one by one, each follower in turn stretched out his wings and took up gliding.
Holly sighed. If it weren’t for her somber errand, her visit to the Gulf Coast could be a relaxing vacation from work...
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