I quickly made the introduction. “Parker Wells, I’d like you to meet my friend Patricia Latham.”

Parker took off his hat, extended a hand, and spoke in a cultured and educated voice. “Miss Patricia, it is a genuine pleasure to meet you, and a great honor indeed to extend to you a welcome to our island paradise.”

Patricia shook hands, and as she looked into Parker’s eyes and recognized the kind and gentle man that resided therein, her initial reticence and distance dissolved and faded away.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “Thank you for the welcome, and I’m glad to meet you, too.”

“Kennesaw, can I help you with anything?” Parker asked as I opened a deck locker and took out a small cooler.

“No, thanks,” I replied as I set the cooler on the deck. “I think we’re all set and ready to go.”

While Parker gave Patricia a hand to the dock, I closed the door to the pilothouse and then turned to make sure the dock lines were secure. By the time I picked up the cooler, set it on my shoulder, and stepped off the boat, Patricia and Parker were chatting away like old friends well met after a long absence. Parker led the way, and we walked to the top of the ramp.

“How’s the fishing today, amigo? This isn’t one of your regular spots. I was surprised to see you here,” I queried.

Parker gave me a close look. “Some people watch birds, I like to watch boats. This is the time of the year when the first flocks of Northerners pass by on their way to Florida. When any of them stop here, I do my best to add to the local color, and sometimes, by way of charm and graciousness, I manage to pick up a few dollars impersonating a tour guide.”

“How’s business?” I asked as we reached the top of the landing.

“Spotty,” Parker replied as he picked up one of his rods and inspected it closely. “But I have hopes of improvement before the day is out.”

He lifted his hat to Patricia and gave me a nod, “Y’all have a great day—Kennesaw, I’ll keep an eye on your boat until you return.”

He then plucked a fresh shrimp from his bait bucket, threaded it on the hook, and let it drop to the water below.

Patricia and I walked from the dock and onto land. Ahead of us, a sandy track, lightly paved with old oyster shells, led inland through a wooded glen. Massive live oak trees flanked the road and shaded the curve of the small bay as the land edged its way around the shore of the island. Behind the open glen the land was a jungle of tangled vegetation.