Page 125 of The Oscar Escape
“Go on, Gibby, give the man his check. He appears to be in quite a hurry,” Georgia said with a flick of her wrist.
Oscar stared at the judge. “You’re the buyer? You and Georgia?”
“What did you think I was doing here, kid?” the judge asked, gifting him with a jowly grin.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind. I didn’t put it together.”
“Georgia and I wanted a second home back in Colorado a little off the beaten path. My cousin’s wife suggested this cabin.”
Oscar cocked his head to the side. “Who’s your cousin? Is his wife the realtor?”
“No, my cousin passed away many years ago, but we’re still close with his wife.” The judge gestured to the woman in the red scarf. “His wife, Madelyn Malone.”
“What?” Oscar cried, along with his father and sister.
“My name is M. Gibson Harpswell. TheMstands for Malone. It’s a family name.”
“We’ve known Madelyn for many years,” Georgia added.
Mitch Elliott took a step back and stared at the nanny matchmaker. “When you matched me with Charlotte, did you know about my connection to the judge?”
Madelyn’s trademark red scarf billowed in the breeze. “The best matchmakers play the long game, dear.”
“You are a magical fairy godmother, Ms. Madelyn,” Ivy gushed.
Madelyn waved in the wide-eyed Ivy. “Just you wait.”
A rumbling came from the road as if on cue, and a dusty delivery truck lumbered down the driveway, kicking up bits of gravel. With a screech and a low whine, the vehicle stopped mere feet from where they stood. A woman emerged with a white box topped with a red bow.
“Delivery for Oscar Elliott.”
“I’m Oscar,” he stammered.
She handed him the package, then headed out.
He kept the box at arm’s length and zeroed in on Inez. “Please tell me you didn’t choose now to send that box filled with . . .” He glanced at Ivy. “You know what.”
Inez waved him off. “That’s not from me.”
He sniffed it. Thankfully, he didn’t get a whiff of dog crap. He touched the red bow. If not Inez, there was only one other person who could arrange this. He turned to the matchmaker. “What’s happening, Madelyn?”
“I had such luck matching Georgia and Gibby with a Colorado property. I thought I’d take another crack at real estate. I’ve been in contact with two sellers who are keen to make a deal. You see, their place is awfully big. They want to stay in the area but downsize. There is a catch. They’re quite selective. They couldn’t sell to just anyone. And there is a stipulation.”
Holy matchmaker magic!
“Are we thinking about the same property?” Oscar asked.
“How would I know what you’re thinking? I’m not a mind reader,” Madelyn purred like there was a distinct possibility that she very much was a mind reader.
At this point, he wouldn’t put anything past her.
He opened the box and spied a sticky note with a lobster on the corner, like the one Etta had given Aria on the first morning after they’d arrived on the island. He read the message scrawled on the square.
The island knows, and the inn chose.
The note was attached to a copy of the inn’s real estate evaluation Aria had found in the cupboard in the kitchen.
And there was something else. Another form and another lobster sticky note.
