Page 65 of Smuggler's Cove
“It’s theishpart,” Madison said, pouting.
“You’re only forty-eight,” Olivia responded.
“Going on forty-nine,” she reminded everyone.
“Still not the big five-oh,” Lincoln teased.
“Ha, ha. Let us not rush things.” Madison leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist.
“I am going to call the real estate agent. They usually don’t keep normal business hours,” Lincoln said. He knew it was past eight, but he also knew agents were always ready to sell or rent. He dialed the number, and it went to voicemail. “Hello, Ms. Mariska, my name is Lincoln Wainwright. My wife, my sister, and I are interested in looking at the rental property on Portland Road. Can you please let me know if it is still available and when it would be convenient to look at it? We are in Manhattan.” He left the number, and within minutes, his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Wainwright? This is Irene Mariska. You phoned about the place on Portland Road?”
“Yes, hello, Ms. Mariska.”
“Please, call me Irene.”
“If you call me Lincoln.”
“Deal, Lincoln. It’s a lovely place. And the rent is quite reasonable.”
“Yes, I just got off the phone with Detective Burton, who told me about the property.”
“Rob? Good guy. His wife owns a floral shop in town. When is it convenient for you?”
“It will take us over an hour to get there, but . . .”
Irene interrupted him. “Do you know about the ferry?”
“Ferry?” Lincoln asked. He nodded to Olivia, who was already looking it up online.
“Yes. There’s a ferry that runs from East Thirty-fifth or Wall Street. Takes forty minutes. I can pick you up at the ferry terminal in town.”
“That’s very nice of you, Irene.”
“No problem. I can give you a little tour of the area if you’d like.” Then she paused. “Are you the people who took over Kirby’s place?”
“Sort of. He was our uncle,” Lincoln added. “We hope to refurbish the place and get it up and running for the summer.”
“That would be wonderful. It’s a great little hangout place,” Irene added.
“So it seems,” Lincoln acknowledged her remark.
“Hannah and Charlie make a heck of a fried clam sandwich,” Irene gushed. “And wait until crab season. Hannah can whip up a serious crab dip, steamed crabs, you name it. If it’s crabby, it’s on the menu.”
Olivia turned her laptop so Lincoln could see the ferry schedule.
“There is a ferry that gets in at noon. Would that work for you?” he asked Irene.
“Perfect. I’ll be wearing a red blazer, driving a white Cadillac SUV.”
“Excellent. We will see you tomorrow. Thanks, Irene,” Lincoln said.
“Thank you, Lincoln. Looking forward to meeting you, your sister, and your wife.”
Lincoln ended the call and turned toward his sister. “You can sneak out of the office for a couple of hours, right?”
