said ‘ we have no connection with any of the Emerson people. ’”
“I have no clue,” Wally said, feeling the rush of having another lead. “That name didn’t come up with the article about his business.”
“You’ve gotta confront this guy,” said Tevin, “and his brother.”
“No doubt,” Wally said.
The four of them set off early the next day and rode the Jline all the way to Jamaica—the end of the line—where they boarded the Long Island Railroad headed east. The two-hour ride to the Greenport station would leave them just a few steps away from the ferry to Shelter Island, where the Hatches’ house could be found. The four of them settled in for the ride, having most of an entire car to themselves so they could all take window seats.
Wally had experience in the Hamptons, having taken several family vacations on the beach over the years, but for the others the train ride was an eye-opener. The view along the way offered glimpses of sprawling beachfront properties and enormous mansions. Jake, Ella, and Tevin jumped back and forth from the right side windows to the left, pointing out homes that seemed to grow more ostentatious the farther up the coast they traveled.
Ella slid onto the seat beside Wally.
“You’ve stayed in houses like that?” she asked.
Wally looked out the window to what looked like a fifty-room behemoth on the shoreline.
“Maybe not that big.”
“That’s gotta be insanely nice inside, right?”
“Sure. But do they have a Trojan War mosaic on their bedroom ceiling? I think not.”
“Losers,” Ella agreed. And then she was quiet for a moment more. “It doesn’t take all that to make a home, anyway. Any little space could be one.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we could do something … like that.”
“Like what?”
“Get an actual place together,” Ella said. She made a show of mentioning the idea casually but Wally picked up on it. Ella had given this some real thought. “Not a big deal. Just a place where we paid rent, official-like.”
Ella kept her eyes focused out the train window, pretending that she wasn’t hanging on Wally’s response.
“Yeah,” Wally said, caught off guard, a weird little itch of resistance in the pit of her stomach. “We could definitely talk about that.”
“If we got jobs, we could do it. I saw at Starbucks that they’ll train you to do all those barista things, making the lattes and caps and everything. I bet I could do that.”
“For sure you could.”
Ella nodded and let it drop. Wally could feel that she had disappointed Ella by not jumping on board, but she didn’t know what else to say. Nothing in her life seemed fixed—it all felt like chaos, in fact—and she didn’t want to tell Ella any lies. It made Wally sad that she couldn’t offer more. She reached out and held Ella’s hand, fingers entwined, but the two of them didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the four of them stepped off the train at Greenport, the small station at the end of the railroad’s Main Line. The day was sunny but cool, a chilly wind blowing off the ocean to the east. Wally had checked the ferry schedule online—it ran every half hour or so, starting just before six in the morning and ending before midnight—and their timing appeared to be perfect. The dock was less than a hundred yards away and the small ferryboat was moored there, looking like it was ready to leave soon.
Wally ducked quickly into a gift shop and bought a detailed map of Shelter Island, then met the others at the dock. There were no other passengers waiting and only one car: a beat-up, weathered old Mercedes taxicab that read F ANTASY I SLAND T AXI in faded lettering on its door, with a little plastic hula dancer hanging from its rearview mirror. The ferryman waved the crew on board, and the cab rolled onto the auto section. The ferry tooted its horn and pulled away from the dock, headed off on its short journey
“I have no clue,” Wally said, feeling the rush of having another lead. “That name didn’t come up with the article about his business.”
“You’ve gotta confront this guy,” said Tevin, “and his brother.”
“No doubt,” Wally said.
The four of them set off early the next day and rode the Jline all the way to Jamaica—the end of the line—where they boarded the Long Island Railroad headed east. The two-hour ride to the Greenport station would leave them just a few steps away from the ferry to Shelter Island, where the Hatches’ house could be found. The four of them settled in for the ride, having most of an entire car to themselves so they could all take window seats.
Wally had experience in the Hamptons, having taken several family vacations on the beach over the years, but for the others the train ride was an eye-opener. The view along the way offered glimpses of sprawling beachfront properties and enormous mansions. Jake, Ella, and Tevin jumped back and forth from the right side windows to the left, pointing out homes that seemed to grow more ostentatious the farther up the coast they traveled.
Ella slid onto the seat beside Wally.
“You’ve stayed in houses like that?” she asked.
Wally looked out the window to what looked like a fifty-room behemoth on the shoreline.
“Maybe not that big.”
“That’s gotta be insanely nice inside, right?”
“Sure. But do they have a Trojan War mosaic on their bedroom ceiling? I think not.”
“Losers,” Ella agreed. And then she was quiet for a moment more. “It doesn’t take all that to make a home, anyway. Any little space could be one.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we could do something … like that.”
“Like what?”
“Get an actual place together,” Ella said. She made a show of mentioning the idea casually but Wally picked up on it. Ella had given this some real thought. “Not a big deal. Just a place where we paid rent, official-like.”
Ella kept her eyes focused out the train window, pretending that she wasn’t hanging on Wally’s response.
“Yeah,” Wally said, caught off guard, a weird little itch of resistance in the pit of her stomach. “We could definitely talk about that.”
“If we got jobs, we could do it. I saw at Starbucks that they’ll train you to do all those barista things, making the lattes and caps and everything. I bet I could do that.”
“For sure you could.”
Ella nodded and let it drop. Wally could feel that she had disappointed Ella by not jumping on board, but she didn’t know what else to say. Nothing in her life seemed fixed—it all felt like chaos, in fact—and she didn’t want to tell Ella any lies. It made Wally sad that she couldn’t offer more. She reached out and held Ella’s hand, fingers entwined, but the two of them didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the four of them stepped off the train at Greenport, the small station at the end of the railroad’s Main Line. The day was sunny but cool, a chilly wind blowing off the ocean to the east. Wally had checked the ferry schedule online—it ran every half hour or so, starting just before six in the morning and ending before midnight—and their timing appeared to be perfect. The dock was less than a hundred yards away and the small ferryboat was moored there, looking like it was ready to leave soon.
Wally ducked quickly into a gift shop and bought a detailed map of Shelter Island, then met the others at the dock. There were no other passengers waiting and only one car: a beat-up, weathered old Mercedes taxicab that read F ANTASY I SLAND T AXI in faded lettering on its door, with a little plastic hula dancer hanging from its rearview mirror. The ferryman waved the crew on board, and the cab rolled onto the auto section. The ferry tooted its horn and pulled away from the dock, headed off on its short journey
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