Page 23 of Smuggler's Cove
“You said there were family issues?”
“Yes, but I’d rather not discuss them right now.” She nodded toward the growing number of students.
“I understand. Of course you can be excused. You know what this week’s assignment is, correct?”
“Yes. A collage.” For some reason, saying those words gave her hope. It reminded her of the time when she and her mother bonded over torn pages from magazines, poster boards, and Elmer’s. Madison made another mental note:Find the colarge.She chuckled to herself, recalling how she mispronounced the word. Funny how the memory of one small incident sticks with you. It was also a moment when she made up her mind to articulate and pronounce words properly. Madison was not a precocious child. She imagined some people may have thought she was. To be more accurate would be to say she was observant and tenacious.Nothing wrong with that.
Madison thanked her teacher and hustled to the student center again. She looked for a cubicle where she could phone her grandmother in private. The cubicles had once been phone booths. But with the growing popularity and use of mobile phones, the school remodeled them. Now they were wider with a seat and a shelf, and only two had payphones. The faculty thought they should keep at least two in operation in case of an emergency, or if a student was not fortunate to have a cell phone. Naturally, Madison was one of the fortunate ones. Everyone in her family had one. This year it was the Motorola Flip, until the next new model came out. That was one thing she could depend on from her father: the newest, and in all probability, the most expensive one available.
She pulled out a small notebook where she kept addresses and phone numbers. While she fumbled through the pages, she passed Niko’s number and recalled the first day they met at Hackley and how they had bonded over their toy cats. Madison’s was a plush toy named Mr. Jinx, and Niko’s was a white porcelain cat named Maneki Neko. He was supposed to be for good luck. Again, another vivid memory from her childhood. She thought about the wordluck. Nowthatwas something to contemplate:What exactly is luck, or to be lucky? Not being on that train when it derailed? Or being shoved in the opposite direction of an oncoming bus? Or having immense worldly comforts only to have your father get tossed in jail?She could use a Maneki Neko right about now.
She wondered how her friend was doing in Japan. After Niko’s parents’ terms were over at the U.N., the family moved back to their homeland. She and Niko tried to stay connected, but thousands of miles can be challenging in maintaining a friendship. Madison opened her planner and jotted down a note to send Niko a card. With everything spiraling out of control, Madison was grateful she had something to keep track of where she was supposed to be and when. She also wrote a note to call Sidney, the family lawyer, and to be sure to pack Mr. Jinx. She had kept him in decent shape all these years. But first things first. Call Nana.
Her maternal grandmother answered after two rings.
“Nana? It’s Madison.” She knew she was stating the obvious.
“Madison, dear. I just got off the phone with your mother. I’m not sure what is going on, but we think you and Lincoln should come here this weekend so we can figure out a plan for both of you.”
“A plan?” Madison blinked several times. Of course. A plan. “Did mom give you any details?”
“Only that everyone had to get out of the house, and your father is in jail.” Her grandmother’s voice was stiff. Initially she’d thought Jackson was a good catch, but he turned out to be a shark. “We should have more information by the end of the week. I hope. You and Lincoln should plan to get here Friday night. I will cook your favorite.”
“Short ribs and popovers?” Madison smiled. A home-cooked meal at her Nana’s would be a salve on this sting of upheaval.
“Your mother loved to go to Patricia Murphy’s when she got her paycheck.” Mrs. Wainwright was referring to the restaurant owned and operated by Patrica Murphy on East 49th Street. It was known to be a gathering place for “ladies who lunch.” Gwen and Sandra would splurge once a month to “see how the other half lived.” Little did she know at the time that she would become one of the other halves. Now, Gwen was on the run from all of it.
“I remember her stories about her first couple of years in the city,” Madison recalled. “I hope she is okay. She sounded really rattled on the phone.”
“Your mother is resilient. She is one tough cookie.”
Madison chuckled. Her mother was even-tempered, but if you knew Gwen well enough, you could see the blaze in her eyes when pushed against a wall. “You got that right, Nana.” Madison noticed another student pacing in front of the booth. “I must get going. I’m meeting up with Lincoln in a little bit. We are going to the house to rescue some clothes.”
“Where are you going to stay for the rest of the week?”
“I am not sure. A hotel somewhere between our schools. SoHo, the Village, or Gramercy Park.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Call me later and let me know how you made out getting your things from home, and where you will be staying.” She let out a sigh. “It is going to be okay. We will get through this.”
“Nana? Do you know where Mom was going?”
“Someplace where she could think, I suppose. You know the press will be stalking her until they find another story to follow.”
Madison chuckled. “We are all on the same page. No pun intended.”
Mrs. Wainwright smiled at the phone. “You are quite the wit. Be careful. We will chat later.”
“Thanks, Nana. Love you.” Madison ended the call and exited the small booth.
Madison checked her watch again. Almost noon. Maybe she would grab some lunch. The time she had to wait to meet up with her brother was excruciating. As she walked through the common area, she wondered if anyone had heard the news yet. One thing was certain, it would be all over the networks at five o’clock. Better to reserve rooms at a hotel now so she and Lincoln would have a destination once they left Sutton Place.
She left the building and decided to walk in the direction of the SoHo Grand Hotel. It had recently opened and was convenient for both to attend classes. It would take about twenty minutes by foot. She planned to book two rooms for four nights, and for the following week. That should give them enough time to figure out more permanent housing. This way, they could leave most of their things, what little they could carry, with the bellman at the hotel, instead of dragging everything back and forth to Connecticut. And what, exactly, was everything? She wondered how much the marshal would let them take. She sighed. She would eventually find out.
Instead of stopping at a restaurant, she decided to go against one of her rules: do not eat anything from a street vendor. But today was different. If she interpreted her mother correctly, they could be eating hot dogs, or “dirty water dogs” (as some people called them), for a long time. She might as well get used to it. When she arrived at 23rd Street, there were a half dozen food carts. Falafels. Sausages. Hot dogs. Chicken kebabs. A plethora of aromas from all the mystery sandwiches you could ever want filled the air.
On the other side of the corner were two men with knockoff designer purses laying on top of a blanket. They looked legit from a distance, but Madison could easily tell a real Prada from a fake one. She ordered a hot dog with sauerkraut and mustard. As the vendor was handing her the hot dog, loud voices roared from the corner where the imitation handbags were. The two men gathered their wares quickly and jumped into the back of an unmarked, beat-up van, which had been idling a few feet away. The getaway vehicle peeled out of the space as the men fumbled to pull the doors shut. A police car was half a block away but did not seem to be in any hurry to catch them. She guessed the police had better things to do than confiscate some fake accessories. She smirked.They were busy arresting white-collar criminals.
Madison continued to walk down Seventh Avenue as she licked the mustard from between her fingers. She could not walk into the hotel smelling like she took a bath in the vendor’s cart. She stopped at Loehmann’s department store and used the ladies’ room to freshen up. On her way out, she made sure she sprayed herself with one of the perfume samples.
