Orchid Beach (Holly Barker 1)

“How about this afternoon?”

“Perfect. Mind if I tag along?”

“You play?”

“I’m my father’s daughter.”

“Sure, you come along. Two o’clock?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll meet you at the front gate. Park where you did last time.”

“See you at two.” She hung up and turned to her father. They were in Jackson’s living room. “We’re on for two. Better wear your best golf duds, it’s a fancy place.”

Ham frowned. “Shit, you mean I can’t wear my combat fatigues?”

“You’d be shot on sight. Don’t wear those awful plaid Bermuda shorts, either.”

“You’re limiting my options.”

“That’s the idea.”

Jackson spoke up. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“You want Barney Noble to know where you are? He might call Cracker Mosely and tell him.”

“You’ve got a point,” Jackson said.

“You can baby-sit Daisy.”

“Or her me.”

“That’s more like it, come to think.”

Holly pulled into the parking space at two sharp. Barney Noble was already there, waiting for them in his white Range Rover with the little green palmetto on the door. He got out to greet them.

“Hello, Holly. Jesus, Ham, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Ham shook his hand and grinned. “Must’ve been, what, ’73?”

“I reckon. Come on, let’s get your clubs in my car.”

Holly and Ham transferred their clubs to the Range Rover, then got in. The security gate opened, and the tire-buster spikes retracted.

“That’s some arrangement there,” Ham said. “You expecting armored personnel carriers?”

“Nah,” Barney replied. “Our board of directors is fond of overkill. Makes the members feel safe. It’s not like anybody ever tried to bust in here. Holly, did you know your old man was the toughest, meanest noncom in ’Nam?”

“That’s what he keeps telling me,” Holly replied.

“You’re both full of shit,” Ham said pleasantly.

“You ever miss ’Nam, Ham?”

“Not for a minute.”

“I do, sometimes. You know what I miss?” They hit a large pothole. Barney swore. “That was supposed to have been fixed yesterday,” he said. He picked up a handheld radio and said, “Base.”