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The smells change from sea air to something mossy and damp. I look out, and we’re surrounded by trees and ground cover. The few buildings have wood bridges leading to them, as if the earth is too soft to walk over.
Another one of the ring-tailed creatures I saw this morning dashes from one cluster of leaves to another. I’m in another world entirely.There is nothing familiar about this ride, this man, this vision. Every one of my senses is taking in something completely new.
We break through the surround of trees and the ocean returns. Gabe slows down and signals for a left to a rambling restaurant on tall stilts.
Stone stairs lead down to the beach on one side, and just like Gabe said, people are wandering up from the shore to the restaurant.
We park near the front. I’ve mostly dried out after the windy ride. Gabe gives me a crooked smile as we cross the sandy asphalt. The wind is high. A bright red-orange bird like nothing I’ve ever seen before struts across the sand and pauses next to the building’s steps.
“What is that?” I ask.
Gabe pauses to look. “A scarlet ibis.”
“But it’s orange!”
Gabe chuckles. “Yeah, I’m not sure if it’s the light or the type of shellfish they eat here, but they definitely skew orange.”
The bird tilts its head at me, opening and closing its long, curved beak. Its tiny circular eye seems to mock me.
Two young boys from a family walking up from the beach see the ibis and run toward it, shrieking. The bird takes a few cautious steps backward, then wings into the sky, soaring over the parking lot and heading toward the ocean.
“So sorry,” the mother says, trying to rein in her boys.
I’m disappointed not to get a closer look, but we smile at them and head into the restaurant.
“Gabe!” A man holding an armful of menus brightens at spotting us. “You brought a woman? This must be the Georgia hottie drinkslinger!”
He realizes what he’s said a moment too late and pulls his straw hat off to hold in front of his chest. “I am so sorry. I mean no disrespect to the lady.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I think I’m going to have to get used to it.”
“This is José,” Gabe says. “He’s worked here since I was a kid.”
“I’ll never leave here,” José says. “My ghost will seat diners for centuries. Come, let me find you a good table. By the beach, yes?”
Gabe nods, and we follow José through tables covered in plastic tablecloths until we reach the back deck overlooking the ocean.
“’Tis beautiful, no?” José asks as he sets two menus opposite each other on a small table near the rail. “I hear Gabe lost the competition.”
“He did,” I say. “And now he’s buying me breakfast.”
“Good, good.” José leans in. “Order the lobster taco and stick it to him.”
“Hey!” Gabe says. “I thought we old-timers had each other’s backs!”
José smacks Gabe on the shoulder. “Old-timer. That’s a good one. I used to snatch you up by your overalls when you tried to run off the deck to the water.” He shakes his head and leaves us, laughing as he goes.
I spread the menu out on the table. “So, do you know everyone on the island, or are you taking me places where you know people?”
“A little of both.”
I scan the drink list out of habit. My head rushes when I see the prices. I lean in closer to Gabe. “If this is what drinks run here, you’re seriously undervaluing yours!”
He nods. “Probably so. This place is more high-end than average.”
Oh. I shift to the food prices. I feel my face flush at the lobster taco. I’ve never in my life paid that much for a taco.
“It must be really good,” I say, quickly scanning the rest to look for anything reasonable. One egg and toast is more my speed.
