“Still think it’s strange for an outsider to plan the event.”
“That’s what event planners do. Plan events. That’s what I do for a living.” She flashed her eyes at him. “And I’m very good at what I do.”
Her eyes were filled with determination. That was easy to see, even in the light from the candles.
“If that’s how you want to spend your time. Still seems strange to me.” He shrugged.
“It is what I want to do. And I’m meeting people around town and…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I know. You like your space.” She stood. “Thanks for the flashlights and candles.”
He swallowed the last of his coffee, wishing he could ask for a to-go cup, and handed her the mug.
She followed him over to the door and he slipped his raincoat back on. “Mind those candles,” he said as he left.
It took every ounce of Amanda’s self-control not to slam the door behind Connor as he left. The nerve of the man, treating her like some clueless, incompetent twit. Did he honestly believe she needed a lecture on candle safety?
She’d been planning events for years—complete with candles—and knew exactly how to handle a few decorative flames. And his dismissive attitude about her running the festival? Completely uncalled for. She didn’t need that either. He was just another skeptic. She’d had enough of them.
Determination surged through her. She’d show all of them, Connor Dempsey included. She would. This Heritage Festival would be the most spectacular one the town had ever seen. She’d show them firsthand exactly what Amanda Kingston was capable of achieving. She’d pour everything she had into this festival, leaving no detail overlooked, until even the most stubborn doubters would have to acknowledge she was good at her job. Including Connor.
She went to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee, savoring the comforting aroma. Might as well enjoy it while it was still warm. Who knew when she’d be able to brew another pot? The warmth from the mug seeped into her palms as she took the coffee back to the couch and settled onto it, curling her legs beneath her.
She glanced at the flashlights and extra candles he’d brought over for her. That was such a nice, neighborly thing to do. Although she could tell he was irritated that he’d done it. Like it actually pained him to do something nice for someone.
Whatever. That Connor Dempsey was the most infuriating man. She probably should have asked him to show some piecesin the arts and crafts show like Beverly suggested. But somehow, she was certain he would have said no. His standoffish—bordering on rude—manner made it clear he wasn’t much interested in participating in community events.
Fine. They’d have the show without his carvings. They didn’t need them. She’d find other artists willing to show their work. She snatched her notebook off the table and jotted some notes.
She’d showcase other local artists and bring the community together with a festival the likes of which they’d never seen.
She’d show Connor she was good at her job. She’d show everyone.
CHAPTER 8
Thankfully, the storm was over when Amanda got up the next day, and just as she was despairing the lack of hot coffee, the electricity came back on. She made a pot and then hammered away at her to-do list.
Things were starting to come together for the festival. She should never have let some of the naysayers—and Connor—let her doubt herself. The musicians were booked. She’d rounded up plenty of food. Even found a funnel cake vendor to come. She couldn’t leave that detail out after her fond memories of having one with her father.
The perfect reward for all her efforts was a long beach walk. Afterward she planned to pour herself a glass of wine and read the book she’d picked up from Beverly’s lending library.
The fresh sea air invigorated her. She headed toward her cottage after finishing her walk. Connor stood just inside his workshop, the doors wide open. She hesitated and debated whether to stop and say hi. He’d made it perfectly clear he preferred to be left alone, despite his neighborly gesture yesterday.
Before she could decide, a little girl darted past her, her dark curls bouncing with each step. The girl’s face lit up with pure joy when she spied Connor.
“Uncle Connor!” The girl launched herself into Connor’s arms, and he scooped her up, a genuine smile transforming his face. Well, that was a first. She’d never seen the man smile.
Amanda watched him, surprised by the warmth and affection in his expression. He looked so… happy.
The little girl looked over at her and wiggled out of Connor’s arms. “Hi, I’m Brooklyn. Are you Uncle Connor’s friend?”
Amanda glanced at Connor, unsure how to respond. His smile faded, replaced by the same guarded expression she’d grown accustomed to seeing. Her brief glimpse at his unexpected softer side vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“I’m Amanda. I’m staying next door.” She gestured toward her cottage.
Brooklyn skipped over to her and looked up, her eyes filled with excitement. “Have you seen Uncle Connor’s carvings? They’re aaaa-mazzzzz-ing. You have to come see them.” Brooklyn tugged on her hand.
A woman with the same dark hair as Brooklyn’s approached, a warm, friendly smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Megan. Connor’s sister. And that little whirlwind is my daughter, Brooklyn.”
“Hi, Megan. Nice to meet you.”
