Page 136 of The Oscar Escape
Aria froze. Would he recognize her?
“An old pal,” Agatha offered.
Barry’s phone pinged again. He shook his head. “It’s Lois.”
“Good grief, woman,” Netti huffed.
“Go on ahead,” Aria said, coming to her feet. “I can clean up and return your things to the retirement community.” She checked the logo on the SUV. “Denver Acres, right?”
“You got it. Let’s hustle, ladies,” Barry instructed and jogged toward the street.
“What did I tell you about that ass?” Netti murmured.
Aria chuckled as the women set off after Barry.
Agatha took a few steps, then stopped. “It was good to see you, doll,” Agatha said warmly. “I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time. I’ll leave you with a piece of advice. It comes from my granddaughter. She’s only twelve, but what she said, well, more like what she sang, has stuck with me for a couple of weeks. It might help you figure out what to do. Are you ready for it?”
“I think so.”
“Believe in who you are. Know yourself. Know your heart.”
Aria bit back a grin. “I’ve heard that somewhere before. But hearing it from you means a lot to me.”
“Until we meet again,” Agatha replied.
Aria watched the Denver Acres’ cars pull away, hardly able to believe the widow had visited Havenmatch Island.
What did it mean?
She pinched the bridge of her nose, then surveyed the mess of bottles and cans. Moving carefully and grateful for her rubber boots, she waded into the bush and wrangled the empty wine bottles from the spindly limbs. She froze in place. She could see her parents’ gravestones from her spot in the tangle of half-bare branches.
“Did you arrange that tête-à-tête with the widow? Can you do that sort of thing in the afterlife? What are you trying to tell me?” she pleaded, her words resonating across the lawn.
“Oh no!” came a familiar man’s voice, accompanied by a flurry of footsteps. “Were there medicinal lollipops in the truck? We might be too late.”
Chapter26
ARIA
Medicinal lollipops?
Aria spun around with the discarded bottles clutched in her hands. “Uncle Landy?” She looked past the man and saw another familiar face. “Tanner Baker?”
She checked the street and spied her uncle’s sleek sports car parked behind the delivery truck. They must have arrived after the Denver Acres crew took off.
What were her uncle and the manager of the Cupid Bakery she frequented as a kid doing here?
She peered at her hands.
A sinking feeling set in. This couldn’t look good.
She was double-fisting wine bottles and talking to herself in the middle of a bush near a folding table covered in teacups, alcohol, and a stolen box of bonbons—at a cemetery. And, to secure her title as Denver’s top delinquent, a stolen Cupid Bakery truck was parked not twenty yards away.
Nobody could accuse her of not bringing the drama.
She plastered on a wide grin. “This might appear strange.”
“Might appear strange?” her uncle replied, looking her over like he’d expected her to sprout horns or grow a tail. “Did you find any lollipops in the delivery truck and eat them?”
