“Mr. Iceman brand,” Brett said. “There are only certain types of portable heaters considered safe for fish shanties. This is one of the more popular models.”
Quinn let out a low whistle. “A cool and cozy home away from home.”
“Denver’s place is stocked…fishing poles, cooking supplies.” Brett tapped the plastic bin on the shelf. “He even has a place to stash his snacks.”
Propped up in the corner were fishing rods of almost every size…small, tall and everything in between. Sitting on the corner of the bench was a clear plastic garbage bag.
Quinn gently pressed down on the bag. “Pillows?”
“With blankets at the bottom,” Morgan said. “Does he camp out here?”
Brett shrugged. “Could be. I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Denver’s first love is flying planes. Ice fishing is a close second.”
“Can we go ice fishing in a shanty?” Tristan asked.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have one, but I bet Denver would let us borrow his.” Brett promised to check into it.
The group backtracked and returned to the sleds. “I’ve given you the grand tour. It’s time to head to shore.”
“I’m ready to ride for a while.” Morgan tapped her friend’s shoulder. “Why don’t you drive, Quinn?”
“I dunno.” Her bestie wrinkled her nose, warily eyeing the sleek sled.
“It’s easy. All you need to do is remember which side is the gas and which side is the brake.”
“Morgan is right,” Brett said.
“Okay.” Quinn climbed on and waited for Morgan to settle in behind her.
Brett, with Tristan on the back, drove a few feet before stopping to make sure the women were following. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” Quinn hit the gas a little too hard, and they lurched forward. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Morgan said. “This baby has some power.”
“No kidding.” Quinn squeezed the throttle using a lighter touch, and off they went, cruising across the open ice.
Dark clouds gathered, and flakes of snow drifted down. Sitting in the passenger seat gave Morgan a chance to appreciate the beauty of their winter wonderland. She spotted Bird Island and knew they were close to home.
Despite the fun ride across the ice, she let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding when they reached Easton Estate.
Brett and Tristan, who had gone ahead, sat waiting for them to catch up. “Tristan is wondering if we can give Chester a ride.”
“Sure. I brought his goggles, the ones we use when he rides in Wyatt’s sidecar.” Morgan dashed inside to grab her pup. “I know you’re not a fan, but you’ll need your sweater.” She pulleda red knit sweater over his head, wiggled his paws through the armholes and carried him out to where the others stood waiting.
While she was gone, Brett had strapped a bin to the back of the sled. She eased her pup inside. Chester sat perfectly still; his furry face filled with excitement while she checked to make sure his goggles were snug. “He’s never gone snowmobiling before.”
“Do you think he’ll try jumping out?” Quinn asked.
“No. He’s good about riding, at least on Wyatt’s motorcycle.”
“We’ll drive slowly, Aunt Morgan,” Tristan promised.
Climbing back on the sled, Morgan and Quinn took the lead along Dead Man’s Drop until reaching the main road. With a quick check for traffic, they drove to the opposite side and took the trail to the estate’s private beach.
Hugging the shoreline, she kept going until they reached Looking Glass Cottage’s beach. Brett, Tristan and Chester eased in beside them. “How’s he doing?”
“Great,” Tristan beamed. “Can we drive down to the pile of rocks?”
