Page 71 of The Oscar Escape
“People must not be seeing the flyers,” Roberta lamented.
Margo threw up her hands. “We left them at two libraries on the mainland. I don’t know why the word’s not getting out.”
“That’s not gonna do it,” Aria mumbled.
“Do you have something to share with the group, Mrs. Elliott?” the judge asked.
She should say no. She should shake her head and not make a peep. “I do,” she announced, ignoring reason and Oscar’s pleas. “You’re going about promoting your festival all wrong.”
A plate hit the ground somewhere behind her. Oscar was most likely losing his shit, but she couldn’t stand there and not say something—not if she could help them and possibly herself.
“It can’t be all wrong,” Roberta lamented.
Aria poured herself a glass of lemonade and took a sip. “Yes, it can, and it is.”
“Aria,” Oscar said in a tight whisper as if his voice was on the cusp of exploding past his lips.
So much for no muss, no fuss.
She brushed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “I know exactly what you should do.”
Was she pouring it on a little thick? Probably. But she wasn’t lying.
She’d not only set the tone for her tour, but she’d also attended every planning meeting. She’d scrutinized logistics and ticket prices. She’d factored in playing at venues in smaller cities to boost revenue. She’d made sure a portion of her profits went to charity and insisted on providing a set number of free tickets to community centers in economically impacted areas. And then there was the showcase she’d spearheaded in college—the event that landed her in the hospital.
“The Love and Lobsters Festival celebrates fine art, music, and island cuisine. It’s the most important event the island hosts. It goes back over one hundred and fifty years. What do you know about that?” Margo snipped.
“Here we go,” Oscar mumbled.
And he was right. Margo’s snide comment sparked a fire in Aria’s belly. Like a runaway train heading down a mountainside without brakes, there was no stopping the Aria Paige-Grant Express.
Aria drained her cup of lemonade and set it on the table. Like a lynx, she sauntered over to a row of violins, then turned and surveyed the room like she was contemplating adding curtains to the décor. “What do I know about music and the arts?” she mused, her voice sugary sweet. “It’s a good thing we’re in a schoolhouse.”
“And why is that?” Del replied, stone-faced.
Aria selected a violin bow, then pointed it at the group. “Because I’m about to drop some knowledge on you islanders. And after you see what I can do, you’ll be begging me to help you salvage your event.”
Chapter14
ARIA
Every performance had high stakes, but this had to be the best performance of her life.
Aria eyed the bow, then spied a cube of rosin on the windowsill. She applied the substance to the bow hair and scanned the violins hanging from a rack. She could tell by the craftsmanship that these were top-tier instruments. And was that a Stradivarius? Those could go for hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars. She touched its scroll—the decorative top of the instrument—then removed it from its resting place. Might as well go with the best. Carefully, she held the exquisite violin to her cheek and assumed the position.
Was what she was about to do absolutely insane?
Oh, yeah.
Should she have kept her mouth closed, as Oscar had advised?
Maybe not.
After overhearing the Love and Lobsters planning committee’s dreadful promotion strategy, she’d come up with a plan—a plan that could be the answer to reducing her twelve-day community service conundrum. If what she had in mind worked, she and the islanders would come out ahead. Here’s the thing—she could save their festival. She felt it in her bones. But there was one rather enormous roadblock. Thanks to her unhinged behavior upon arrival, almost everyone on the island thought she was a raving delinquent. Still, they didn’t have to like her. They only had to see that she was the real deal.
And how was she supposed to do that?
She’d have to knock their socks off—or in the case of Havenmatch Island, knock their rubber boots clean off their woolly-socked feet—and show these people that, when it came to music and promoting the arts, she was the answer to their prayers.
