Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County by Amy Hill Hearth Page A

something new. I was humbled. He bit his bottom lip, and I realized he was afraid he might have offended me. Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed, but my instincts told me that Judd’s need for praise was greater than my need to protect my pride. It couldn’t be easy having Jackie for a mother, plus a dad who traveled a lotas the business manager for Mr. Toomb. This was a boy who might have benefited from having a brother, but instead he had two older sisters—identical twins—who were in their own little world. I’d never actually had a conversation with either of them.
    â€œJudd,” I said, “you’re very wise and I’m sure you will go places in life. I am very impressed, and, on behalf of turtles everywhere, thank you.”
    He blushed a shade of red that nearly matched his hair. I realized if this conversation went on any longer it would be excruciating for him, so I changed the subject. “So, when does school start?” I asked.
    His face fell. “Two weeks,” he said sadly.
    â€œUm, well, what grade will you be in?”
    â€œEight,” he said, not sounding any happier.
    I racked my brain for a better topic. I was not used to conversing with teenagers. “Oh,” I said, “your mother mentioned that you joined the Civil Air Patrol.”
    â€œYes!” he said, almost bowling me over with his enthusiasm. “I’m too young to fly but I can go along as a spotter. I’m going to keep doing it during the school year, though I’ll have to cut back my hours. I had to persuade Mom that it would be okay, and convince my dad that it was something important I should do.”
    He was right: It was important. The Florida coastline was so vast that even the Coast Guard couldn’t patrol every inch. The Civil Air Patrol filled the gap, with volunteers flying their own small planes to check for boaters in trouble. But the Naples Civil Air Patrol didn’t just fly over the Gulf. They followed the rivers and streams into the Everglades. In recent years, the volunteer group had taken on an additional role that seemed straight out of a James Bond movie except it was real—to keep an eye out for suspicious activity since Collier County was so close to Cuba.
    Judd told me about the things he had seen. There was a fishing boat that ran out of fuel and was in danger of sinking because of a problem with its bilge. And a tourist who fell asleep on a float and drifted too far from shore to swim back. “I saw something really strange last week,” he said. “A lot of trees being cut down by the river a ways behind Mrs. Bailey White’s house but further down.”
    If I’d had anything in my hands, I’d have dropped it. “ What?! Wait, are you talking about where Darryl is planning his project? Are you saying he’s already started ?”
    Judd looked panicky. “Well, I don’t know . . . I mean, I don’t know if it’s his, or if something else is going on. But every day it seems like there’s more trees cut down.”
    He was sorry he had brought it up. I could see it in his eyes. “Judd,” I said, trying to be calm, “have you ever seen a map of the plans? I mean, Darryl’s development plans?”
    â€œNo, ma’am,” he said. “There ain’t any map as far as I know. Oh, don’t tell Mom I said ‘ain’t,’ okay? She’d ground me for a week.”
    â€œThere must be a map,” I said, thinking aloud. “Judd, I’m going to leave you with the turtles and go see if I can find someone who will know what’s up.”
    Judd nodded. As I turned to leave he added, “There’s a trailer. I saw it from the air. It’s in a clearing about a mile from the Trail. Maybe that’s where you’ll find your, uh, former husband.”
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    I COULDN’T FIND ANYONE DOWNTOWN who would talk to