screamed, they flew higher and higher, and finally released her. She was tumbling down to a white sand beach when she awoke with a choked cry.
She didn’t need Freud for an interpretation. In fact, once she shook off the worst of it, she was embarrassed. Other people had deep, richly nuanced dreams. Hers were cartoons on steroids.
She got up, and threw on shorts and a T-shirt. The sky was beginning to lighten, and a storm had come through last night, which meant that the beach would be filled with more shells than usual. She had lots to do that day. Find Herb’s relatives. Find a job. Find someone to install the tiles that would be arriving that afternoon. But first, she was going to find shells.
She made green tea and poured it in a travel mug. Then she slid into her flip-flops, pocketed her keys and set out to see what treasures the storm had delivered.
She did not expect company.
“Jeez!” Tracy slapped her hand to her chest as an apparition appeared out of the darkness when she reached the shore.
The man took a step backward, as if to show that he had no ill intentions. He held up his hands. “Not to worry. Just out for a walk.”
“On my beach!”
“Not exactly.” The man gave her a slow grin. It seemed to take seconds. “The wet-sand area of a Florida beach is held in trust for all citizens.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Nope. All tidally influenced waters—and you see this would qualify, right? You’ve noticed we have tides? Anyway, tidally influenced waters up to the average high-water line, plus bodies of fresh water deep enough to navigate to the same ordinary high-water line that existed in 1845—that’s when Florida became a state, by the way—are considered sovereign. In other words, they’re held in trust by the state for every cane-chopping Cracker and intruder on our shores.”
Tracy stared at him. The man was somewhere on the road to forty, tall, but not tall enough to alleviate some of the extra weight around his middle. He was dressed in ragged cutoffs and a T-shirt that had been new in the 80s, when vendors sold it at Grateful Dead concerts.
“I have a bad, bad feeling I know who you are,” she said.
He held out his hand. “Marshall Egan. My friends call me Marsh.”
Tracy was very sure she would not be one of them.
As she worked on something to say, she eyed him warily. He had a nice enough oval face, long hair drawn back in a short sandy ponytail, tan skin. Finally, because it would be too rude not to, she extended her hand for the quickest of shakes.
“Tracy Deloche.”
“Yeah, I sort of suspected as much.”
“Wild Florida, right?”
“You’re up on things.”
“Exactly what are you stalking this morning, Mr. Egan? Shells? Waterfowl? New lawsuits to keep me from selling the land you’re standing on?”
“You weren’t listening. You can never sell what doesn’t belong to you.”
She waved that away. “Then how about the part I’m standing on? Or that part just behind me? Do you have some new regulation to pull out that says the people of Florida own everything I thought I did?”
He smiled again. “We’re working hard on it. Right now we’re suing the Corps, but you could be next.”
“Why? Did I step on something endangered? Some root or weed? Some microscopic beetle?”
“Nah, we’re just not going to let you develop this land. We have so many strategies, our strategies have strategies.”
“I wonder if I’d find you this annoying if it wasn’t my land we were talking about?” She considered a moment. “Yeah, you know, I would. I really would. You’re enjoying yourself. At my expense.”
“‘Expense’ is a good word. Let’s talk about it. Do you know what kind of expenses you’re going to incur if you try to knock down so much as a bush?”
“You’re right.” She scuffed her palm along the side of her head. “I should just sign the deed over to you right now. What was I thinking? Then we can join hands and sing ‘This Land is Your Land.’ We can write a verse about white sand and mosquitoes.”
“You are much too perky for this kind of animosity. It’s just not becoming.”
She stepped closer. “I used to be married to the greatest real-estate shark of all time. And even though I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, I did learn a few things. First, you don’t give up. Second, you don’t give up. Third, while you’re not giving up, you’re also