Page 135 of The Oscar Escape
What they’d had was magic.
She returned to the widow’s question.
Did she know who she was when she was with Oscar?
The answer was there. It had always been there.
“Let me ask you this,” Agatha continued. “Are you a drifter or a dreamer?”
“Why would you ask me that?” Aria got out, barely able to whisper the words.
“Years ago, Anthony and I attended an arts festival on a little island off the coast of Maine. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called Havenmatch Island.”
Utterly speechless, Aria couldn’t reply.
“Well,” Agatha continued with a sparkle in her eyes and a rosiness to her cheeks, “there was a sign at the little inn we stayed at. It said drifters and dreamers are always welcome at the Sweet Escape Inn. Anthony read the words aloud, then chuckled. He said it was a good thing that he was a drifter and that I was a dreamer.”
“Aren’t they opposites?” Aria pressed, her voice barely a whisper.
“That’s what I thought at first, too, doll. And I told him that. I was never one to hold back.”
“That’s an understatement,” Martha quipped.
Agatha laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman who speaks her mind. But one must also know when to listen with their heart. That’s when I shut my trap and let Anthony speak. He explained that, in his opinion, drifters and dreamers were two halves that came together to make one whole. One heart.”
“One heart?” Aria repeated and pictured Ivy’s gift.
Agatha nodded. “Drifters and dreamers complete each other. They challenge each other. Does your Oscar do that for you?”
Aria pictured the man huffing at her antics. She saw the devotion in his eyes. She touched the corner of her notebook. Did Oscar complete her?
“Red alert! Red alert!” Netti cried, abruptly cutting off the heavy conversation. “Retirement community SUV coming in hot. We’re busted, girls. Hide the evidence.” The redhead tossed an empty wine bottle into a smattering of bushes, then sprang to her feet as a black SUV with Denver Acres Senior Living Center pulled up behind the sedan.
An athletic man with a blond buzz cut exited the passenger seat and jogged toward them.
“It’s Barry,” Martha tittered and pulled a tube of lipstick from a fuzzy pocket.
The man stopped a few yards from them and surveyed the scene. “Ladies, I’ve told you a million times. You don’t have to steal a car. You can schedule a ride to wherever you like whenever you want.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Martha purred as she smacked her freshly painted lips, then stood and struck a pose.
“I call shotgun,” Netti crooned. She tossed another wine bottle into the bushes before knocking back the contents of her teacup.
These women were a riot.
“Agatha, isn’t your family visiting later today?” Barry asked.
“My goodness, that’s right. We’ve got plans. The party is over for us, doll,” Agatha said, placing her hat on her head as she joined her friends.
A beep emanated from Barry’s pocket. The man removed his cell. “We do need to hurry, ladies. Lois is texting me. That hip of hers is giving her trouble. She requires another massage.”
“I bet she does,” Netti murmured.
“Keys?” Barry said and surveyed the group.
Martha pulled a set from her pocket and tossed it to the man.
“Who’s your lobster-loving friend?” Barry asked and looked her over.
