Thomas ~ 34 ~ The Clamshell THE AUTHOR SLUNG her backpack over her shoulder and walked onto the hotel’s veranda. In her free hand, she carried a frozen mango daiquiri, a drink she hoped would help soothe the itch from her mosquito bites and erase the tiresome memory of the day’s travels. The bartender soon followed with the burning citronella coils. He positioned them strategically around her table and returned to his station. About ten feet up from the street, the porch caught a nice sea breeze. There were plenty of seating options, with two rows of wicker tables and chairs, either pushed up against the building’s coral pink wall or adjacent to the planters that lined the veranda’s front railing. The author selected a spot and powered up her laptop, but her gaze quickly drifted from the computer to the scenery. Sipping on the cool drink, she gazed out at the surrounding city. • LIKE COUNTLESS OTHER travelers, her previous visits to St.
