Eleanor Griffin was a force to be reckoned with.
And was she right? Was Megan right? Had he made a big mistake? He scrubbed his hand over his face. Why had he let Desiree push his buttons? Let her get under his skin? Yet again.
He knew he was a better man than this. He was.
His heart sank as guilt washed over him. And look what he’d done to Amanda. Pulled out of the show when she was depending on him. Accused her of going behind his back when she had no idea of his history with Desiree.
Megan and Brooklyn approached, strolling up the sidewalk hand in hand. The remnant of Brooklyn’s chocolate ice cream was smeared across the front of her shirt. “Uncle Connor. We had the bestest ice cream.”
He chuckled. “I can see that.”
Megan, however, looked at him closely. “You okay?”
“You’re always asking me that.”
“Because I’m always worried about you,” she replied, her tone gentle but firm.
Brooklyn, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, chimed in eagerly, “Guess what, Uncle Connor? We saw Miss Amanda, and she was working in the pavilion. She said she was getting stuff ready for tomorrow. The festival’s tomorrow, you know. We’re going, right? I can’t wait.”
“We’re going, Princess.” He turned to his sister. “Can I leave you two alone for a bit? I have somewhere I need to be.”
A knowing grin spread across Megan’s face. “I hope it involves going to the pavilion.”
He grinned back at her. “It just might. And you won’t hear me say this again, but you were right. I have been a fool.”
“Told you so.” Megan laughed and gave him a nudge. “Go fix your mess. We’ll be here when you get back.”
CHAPTER 24
Amanda struggled with the heavy wooden backdrop, trying to maneuver it into position. Her arms ached from the effort, and she wished she had asked for help. As she pushed and pulled, she suddenly felt the weight of the backdrop ease. Looking up, she saw Connor holding the other end, his strong hands gripping the wood firmly.
“Need a hand?” he asked, his blue eyes meeting hers.
She nodded, surprised to see him. They worked together silently, moving the backdrop into place. Once it was settled, Amanda stepped back, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand.
“Thanks,” she said, uncertain of why he was here. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the festival… or with her.
“Can we talk?” He shifted uneasily on his feet.
“I thought you’d pretty much said everything there was to say.” She crossed her arms, unconsciously adopting a defensive posture as conflicting emotions swirled within her. Part of her still stung from his abrupt rejection.
“Look, I…” He took a step toward her. “I… I want to apologize for how I reacted. For the things I said to you. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”
Surprise swept through her at his words, but she remained silent, letting him continue.
He took another step closer. “Let me explain. Please. It’s not just about the harsh review. It’s about my past, and the reasons I left New York in the first place.”
She nodded, sensing that Connor needed to tell his story in his own time.
“When I was younger and living in New York, my art caught the eye of a prominent gallery owner. I started to make a name for myself. But… I trusted the wrong people. Desiree was one of them.”
Her eyes widened. “You know Desiree?”
“I do. She was involved in the art world back then, not as a critic, but as a buyer. She knew everyone who was anyone. And I thought she was my friend. She gave me advice, and I listened to her. I was young and foolish.”
“What happened?” she asked softly, drawn into his tale by the raw emotion breaking through in his voice.
“She encouraged me to sell a handful of my pieces to a company. I didn’t have a lawyer look over the contract and Desiree assured me everything was fine. But then, as I got more well-known, the company took my art and mass-produced it. Like the kind of cheap wood knickknack you’d see in a tourist trap.”
