Page 93 of The Oscar Escape
Not something—the cotton candy lobster. He had her on a pillow like a pampered princess.
“What are you doing with that lobster, Del?” Aria asked.
Del stroked the crustacean’s shell. “I thought Clawdia Junior would like to see this.”
“Doesn’t she need to be in her tank?” his fake wife pressed.
The lobsterman had set up an enormous saltwater tank inside the entrance to the Sweet Escape Inn. He’d decked it out with multi-colored rocks and even one of those treasure chests that opens and closes in a flurry of bubbles.
“This old girl will be fine as long as her gills stay moist. She could go a couple of days out of the water like Homer Havenmatch’s pet lobster used to do,” Del continued, then gestured with his chin toward a framed black-and-white shot of a man holding a lobster.
“Nine hundred ninety-nine!” Margo called.
A hush engulfed the room.
Five, four, three, two, one.
“One thousand forty-seven,” Del cheered.
The place went wild.
Margo scooped Aria into her arms and proceeded to bear-hug the hell out of her. “You two can run around this town as naked as jaybirds and break all the windows you want. Bonbons for life for Aria and Oscar,” Margo howled, releasing Aria only to snare him in the quasi-aggressive embrace.
Once freed from the bonbon maker’s death grip, he shared a look with Aria. “As nice as that offer sounds, how about we just take you up on the bonbons?”
“You got it,” the woman answered, grinning ear to ear.
As the others hugged and high-fived, he took a second to drink in Aria. “You did it.”
“We did it,” she countered, happiness rolling off her in sweet waves until she gasped. “But we don’t have time to celebrate. There’s too much to do—especially now that we know it’ll be a packed house.”
That was an understatement.
He checked the screen. They were at twelve hundred sales. While he loved seeing the bright-eyed optimistic islanders, he had to prepare them for what was to come. “This is terrific news,” he said above the buzz of conversation. “But this is just the beginning.”
Aria stepped forward. “What comes next isn’t as exciting, but it’s vital for the festival’s success. And that’s logistics. If we sell two thousand tickets, we need to ensure that we can comfortably host that many visitors. That means seating, food and drinks, restroom access, safety precautions on the beach and bluff, and a secure place to sell paintings, jewelry, and pottery and showcase what this island has to offer. We can break into teams to tackle each item. We can start with—”
Three pounding cracks vibrated through the space and cut short Aria’s speech.
Everyone in the room turned toward the sound and focused on the judge. The man sat next to Georgia with a gavel in his hand.
“Do you carry that around with you everywhere?” Aria teased with her head cocked to the side and her fist on her hip.
“He does,” Georgia answered with a playfully resigned shrug.
“We cannot proceed until we get something out of the way,” the judge decreed, sounding super-judgy. “Is everything ready, Del?”
The old lobsterman nodded. “It is.”
“What are you talking about? What do we need to do?” Oscar asked.
The judge rose from his seat. “Honor the island.”
Oscar shared a confused look with Aria, then eyed the judge. “And how would you like us to do that?”
“The island demands a sacrifice,” Del answered.
Everyone in the inn nodded. Were they in on this? Whatever was happening, the situation had taken a creepy turn.
