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McGee”, signaling a call from Max.
    Max told her that there was a slight change of plans after having filed his flight plan. He had gotten a revision notice regarding the flight after Brad returned to his flight office.  Brad had radioed Max just after the takeoff from Lakeside.  He informed Max that, since the Tweed Airport in New Haven didn’t have the floatplane facilities in service, the stopover was set for a seaplane facility in Lyme, CT, along the coast some 28 miles north of New Haven.
    “Well, that’s just great!” Maggie fumed. “What kind of an airline are you guys running up there?” she quizzed, with feigned seriousness.
    “As an air service, this one is as normal as everything else with USAP,” Max answered with a come-back laced with comic irony. “The motto is, ‘Be ready for anything, any time’.”  They both had a chuckle over the circumstances, and Maggie told Max that she would leave the East Wayford apartment and drive to Lyme right away.
    “As soon as I find the seaplane facility on the river in Lyme,” Maggie announced, in her best stewardess voice. “I’ll locate a good place for lunch. Then I’ll reserve a table for two, complete with two vodka Martinis, and hope there is a decent menu. How’s that for service Captain?” she asked.
    “If you keep up the good work, my dear, I might promote you to co-pilot,” Max quipped.
    As Maggie was leaving she called Jessie, first to make sure the office had opened, and secondly to assure that there were no business emergencies. She told Jessie that she was leaving directly from the apartment rather than stopping by as planned.
    “Everything is fine here,” Jessie said. “I’m just a little jealous. I’d love to fly up north for a weekend.  I guess I’ll have to wait until I have my own company,” she said with a slight laugh.
    “All in good time my child,” Maggie answered, with a motherly tone.
    “I guess, but have a real good time and tell Max I said hi,” Jessie responded in a serious mode.
    Maggie liked Jessica. She was a pretty girl who was level headed but somewhat flirtatious. Maggie was also aware that she had a slight crush on Max but sensed that Jessie probably developed such crushes quite often.  After the phone conversation Maggie was satisfied that her business was in good hands. Jessie was a good worker and a great people-person.  Their employer-employee association had developed into more like a big-sister, little-sister relationship.  Jessie exhibited lots of professional potential and had a bright future, Maggie felt.
    Twenty minutes after Maggie left the apartment she arrived in Lyme.  There wasn’t a whole lot to look at in this sleepy little settlement with a history dating back to English Colonial days.  The highway exit ramp led to a two-lane paved country road which ran south to the coast on Long Island Sound, or north to Old Lyme village.  The road followed the east side of a wide river/ocean inlet.  Noting the symbol indicating the seaplane terminal, Maggie turned north and drove to a point where the river narrowed.  There, an 18th century grist-mill village had formed around a ferry fording point, which had later been replaced by a toll bridge. The village and toll bridge became irrelevant during the New England industrial revolution and the U.S. Route 1 freeway, ‘Boston Post Road’ was built across the river, two miles south.  The upper river section, not affected by ocean tidal changes, was slow-moving and placid.  A former steam ship docking pier had been converted to a seaplane docking area.
    Along the river banks nearby, an inn dating back to the 1700’s still stood, and had been converted to a popular, up-scale restaurant which drew customers from ‘Historical Points of Interest’ signs the US I-95 highway. The roadside sign at the inn’s location read: “Toll Bridge Inn” “Fine Dining by Appointment”.
    “Perfect,” Maggie muttered to herself as she drove up to the