Page 76 of The Oscar Escape
“By targeting specific demographics on social media. There’s not much time for people to arrange travel, so we’ll focus on New England.”
“With what? This is everything we’ve got,” Etta said and gestured to the sheets of paper.
“A short video. We need to go viral with footage that pops. And a song,” she continued, adrenaline pumping. “Something catchy, something original, something that touches people’s hearts, stops them in their tracks, and compels them to visit Havenmatch Island’s festival.” She’d love to have more to work with—but the music and the video were a start.
Etta exhaled an audible breath. “That sounds like a lot to do in a little time.”
“No, not if we package it correctly and make sure the right people see it.” Aria waited for someone to speak and got . . . crickets.
No one at the table was sold on her idea.
She pulled out a chair and joined the committee members. “I have a feeling that the attendance over the last few years has dwindled significantly. You probably no longer have word-of-mouth as a way of attracting visitors. Am I right?”
Etta nodded. “It’s been going downhill for a decade.”
No wonder these people were worried.
“What’s drawn people here in the past—when times were good?” she asked softly.
“Love of the arts,” the cellist with wisps of white hair dusting her brow answered, her arm hooked with the violinist.
“And you two are?” Aria felt her cheeks heat. “It feels strange having played with you both and not know your names.”
“I’m Nadia Dram,” the cellist answered, joining the others at the table with the violinist by her side. “This is my husband, Niles.”
Dram. Why was that familiar?
Aria gifted the Drams with a warm grin. “Nice to officially meet you. I recognize your names. But I’m not sure how I know them.”
“Nadia and I played with the London Symphony Orchestra,” Niles explained. His voice was gentle and soothing, and his sea-green eyes twinkled as if recalling that time sparked fond memories. “I met my bride nearly fifty years ago, back when the island was hopping with artists and musicians. I’d planned to stay for a week. Instead, I fell in love with a Havenmatch cellist and carved my name into the bench.”
The names had to be the artists who’d found love here. That must be why the bench was special and why musical notes were carved into the sun-bleached surface.
“Roberta Nanner,” Niles continued, “played with the Chicago Symphony. First chair, too.”
“That’s remarkable,” Aria gushed, taking in the wealth of musical experience.
“There’s more,” Niles said, escorting Nadia to the table. “We’ve got residents who have performed with the world’s top orchestras, put on art shows across the globe, and served as chefs in highly acclaimed restaurants. Margo spent time in Paris as a pastry chef.”
“Pâtissier,” Margo corrected, her expression softening.
“If our roots don’t tie us to Havenmatch Island, our hearts do,” Niles said as he pulled out a chair for Nadia. The couple sat, and he nodded toward a man beside Roberta. “We’ve also got some of the best lobstermen in the business. That’s Paul Nanner, Roberta’s husband. One heck of a sea captain.”
The man had a long face with feathery gray eyebrows and sported the same weathered look as Del and Margo’s husband, Gary. Aria reached across the table and shook the man’s calloused hand.
“Paul, and Margo’s husband, Gary, are lobstermen like Del. Havenmatch gals stole their sailor hearts, hook, line, and sinker. Isn’t that right, boys?” Niles finished.
Gary Lubec grinned at Margo. “You got us there, Niles.”
“You play the piano real nice, Mrs. Elliott,” Paul Nanner said, then wrapped his arm around Roberta. “Doesn’t she, Robbie?”
“She certainly does,” Roberta answered, surprise coating the words.
Niles folded his hands on the table. “Celebrating the arts is a big part of what used to draw people to the island. But there’s another element that attracts people to our little hideaway.”
Aria leaned forward. “What’s the other half?”
The soft-spoken man kissed his wife’s cheek. “Why love, of course. Heart-stopping, brain-scrambling, drive-you-half-mad romantic love.”
