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Winning Winnie’s Hand

Page 19

by Deborah M. Hathaway

“How…” Matthew broke off with a sigh, facing his dad again. “I created the entire event. What makes you think you can just hire someone to take over what is rightfully mine?”

Matthew was in charge of the event—had created the event? Good grief. This was not what she signed up for. No wonder he’d touted its historical accuracy and invited her to see it.

Winnie released a quiet, pent-up breath. Out of all the consulting jobs she’d had, out of all the awkward moments, the fights that had broken out, and the surprises that had been launched at employees, this had to be the worst of them all.

Stuck in the middle between a father and son, revealing things she wasn’t supposed to, apparently leaving a trail of water through their stately home. Could today get any worse?

She glanced at the door again. Where was a butler when a girl needed him?

“Matthew,” Mr. Wintour said softly, as if Winnie couldn’t hear every single word spoken between them, “I told you months ago that this was in our future. The future is now here.”

“But I clearly said no,” Matthew countered.

Mr. Wintour lowered his voice. “Last I checked, I am still owner and head of this estate. The event is held here, it uses the estate’s money, therefore I have the final say.”

Go, Mr. Wintour.

Matthew pierced Winnie with his gaze, and she blanched. Had he heard her thoughts somehow?

“So, in exercising your authority,” Matthew said, his jaw tight as he spoke, “you chose to hire her?” He pointed a condemning finger in Winnie’s direction. “She has clearly never stepped foot in England before, and obviously, she knows nothing about running a festival. She doesn’t even know what century the medieval era is in, for heaven’s sake.”

Okay, that was a low blow. He was right, of course, but still. “For the record,” she began, tired of watching the conversation unfold as if she wasn’t even there listening to the entire thing, “I do know when the medieval era takes place. I just…mixed up the centuries.”

“Who doesn’t every now and then?” Mr. Wintour asked.

Matthew looked between them with his mouth open, clearly thinking they’d both gone crazy. “You can’t be serious with her,” he stated.

“I am,” Mr. Wintour continued. “Because Winnie knows more about reviving dying businesses than both of us combined. Foxwood needs her. We need her. You need her.”

Winnie should have been flattered by his confidence, but truthfully, she just felt more wary. She really needed to not screw this up.

“But she’s from the States,” Matthew continued. “She’ll change the entire point of the festival. We’ll be the laughingstock of Yorkshire. It’ll be loud and brash and…” He glanced at her. “American.”

Winnie folded her arms across her chest and finally allowed a frown to form on her own brow. “And just what is the matter with that?”

He gave her a look. “Do you really want to get into that right now?”

What a jerk. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being American. Sure, they were a little loud at times. Perhaps a little more enthusiastic than other countries. But when had that ever hurt anyone? Matthew just needed to come off his high horse.

Mr. Wintour looked to Winnie apologetically once again, but she moved forward with a reassuring nod.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not offended by what he’s saying. Furthermore, I know why he’s acting this way.”

Matthew sniffed derisively. “Do you?”

She raised her chin. “Yeah, I do. You’re feeling overly protective and defensive because of how much work you’ve put into the event, and you don’t want an outsider commandeering everything you’ve poured your heart and soul into because you’re afraid of losing the integrity of something you’ve formed from the ground up.”

Matthew didn’t respond, but she could see in his eyes that she’d hit the nail on the head.

“But you don’t need to worry,” she continued. “I’m not that kind of consultant.”

He looked even more skeptical than before.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I value souls and people, so I’m not looking to fire anyone. And I value others’ ideas and input more than my own. I’m not here to change up everything. I’m here to fix it. With your help, I have no doubt that we can turn it into something even better than what you already have.”

Instead of his defenses lowering as she’d hoped, his eyes maintained their steely blue, his lips in a thin line. “We’ll see.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly the vote of confidence she’d been hoping for, but at least he wasn’t criticizing her nationality any longer.