Page 39 of The Oscar Escape
She fiddled with her notebook, worried she’d reach for his hand and beg him to touch her if she didn’t have something to occupy herself. She toyed with the metal coil and kept her gaze trained on the worn cover when Oscar’s mother’s ring caught a ray of sun peeking through the blanket of gray-blue clouds. Focused on the ring, she forgot about her notebook as a question came to her. “I need to know the answer to this, Oscar. Why didn’t you say I was your sister, or your cousin, or even your friend?” She glanced at the ring again. “Why did you tell them I’m—”
“Mrs. Elliott!” a man hollered, cutting her off and cutting short her tête-à-tête with her not-husband.
Oscar breathed a sigh of relief, but she flashed him a look that said, one way or another, the current Mrs. Elliott would get some answers.
Chapter9
ARIA
“Mrs. Elliott,” the man with a gruff voice barked. “I’m talking to you.”
Had she broken one of his windows, too?
Aria schooled her features and turned toward a voice she’d heard somewhere before. And then it came to her. It was the man’s voice from the Sweet Escape Inn’s hallway.
A lanky gentleman in a Havenmatch ball cap and a red quilted jacket marched up the gentle incline. He sported one heck of a sour expression. “There’s the troublemaker,” he mumbled.
Troublemaker?
“Excuse me?” she lobbed back.
The old man’s acerbic expression deepened. “The judge is ready for you. I can take you to where the proceeding is being held.”
Jesus, this dude was clearly not a member of her fan club.
“And you are?” she asked, mirroring his energy.
He lifted his chin, dotted with a smattering of gray scruff. “Del Alden.”
“Hello, Del Alden, I’m—”
“Oh, the island knows who you are, Mrs. Elliott,” the man grumped, then nodded to Oscar. “Mr. Elliott,” the man said, acknowledging Oscar with far less animosity.
She glanced at her fake husband. And then it struck her. He must have interacted with Del and Etta Alden when they’d arrived at the inn last night. She looked between the men, but she sensed there was more to their relationship.
“Follow me,” Del instructed.
The man didn’t wait for them to answer.
His boots crunched against the path in an angry stomp as he led them around a bend and toward . . . the inn.
Had they walked in a circle?
Aria surveyed the back of the structure. She hadn’t gotten a sweeping look at it when they’d left—and a sweeping sight it was. Positioned atop a bluff overlooking the harbor, the shape reminded her of a giant, two-story loaf of gray-shingled bread with a cupola perched on top—or perhaps it was a widow’s walk. One could probably see for miles up there. Breathtaking and awe-inspiring, though it was a large structure, there was a cozy timelessness about it that intrigued her.
But now wasn’t the time to wax poetic about island architecture.
“I hope we’re not late,” she said to the back of Mr. Alden’s head. “Your wife gave us directions. But it looks like we made a loop.”
“Etta thought you could use a little air.”
She had no idea what this man had witnessed and willed herself not to blush. “She was right.”
“Your husband said your behavior was due to food poisoning,” the man continued, sounding unconvinced.
She met Oscar’s eye. He gave her a look that said,just go with it.
She eyeball replied,do you think I’m an idiot?
