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Mrs. Wintour smiled. “We wouldn’t be English if we did.”

Mrs. Birdwhistle excused herself shortly after, and Winnie and Mrs. Wintour continued on, passing by the food next. Winnie purchased one of each item from the menu, despite the woman behind the makeshift counter looking more than perturbed at having to do any work at all, despite Mrs. Wintour standing right there.

More polite vendors

More food options

More drink options

More payment options

As they walked away with Winnie’s container of food that reeked worse than some of the subways in New York, she continued with her questions.

“Why no other food vendors?”

“We thought it better to simplify,” Mrs. Wintour said after another moment of hesitation.

We? Fat chance. “Matthew is the deciding factor when it comes to the event, right?” Winnie asked flat out.

No point in beating around the bush any longer.

Mrs. Wintour opened her mouth, then closed it again. Clearly, she didn’t wish to criticize her son, which Winnie couldn’t help but admire. But if she was going to improve the faire, she was going to need some answers.

“I’m not asking to get anyone in trouble,” Winnie said with a reassuring smile. “There’s usually someone in charge of these things. If I know who it is, then I know who to work with more.”

Relief shone clearly in Mrs. Wintour’s eyes, despite the reticence that remained. She glanced over her shoulders to where the stables were hidden in the thick trees. “Matthew has worked so hard on this. He has such a passion for it. To have it fail…” She broke off, shaking her head with a sigh. “I just feel for him and his struggles, especially when it used to be such a grand affair.”

“Did it?” Winnie asked, holding up her tablet, fingers and pen at the ready.

They stopped beneath another tree, though the rain had mostly disappeared altogether.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Wintour said with wide eyes. “Hundreds of people would attend each weekend. We’d often sell out. The jousting was always a crowd favorite. But little by little, people just stopped coming.”

Winnie jotted down a few notes. “Has anything been done to bring more people in?”

“We’ve advertised,” Mrs. Wintour responded. “Put up flyers, had a spot or two on the local stations, but nothing has really been working. Matthew thinks people are simply out of touch with history and have lost interest altogether.”

Huh. That was interesting. And also entirely wrong. “Is that what you think the problem is?”

Mrs. Wintour shook her head. “No. I believe that is a mere fraction of the problem. The reality is, the magic is gone, and Matthew—we—don’t know how to get it back. We just want to help him. This event has been his passion for so long. To have to say goodbye would be devastating for him.”

Mrs. Wintour’s sincerity, her goodness, touched Winnie’s heart, and her empathy soared.

“Empathy has no place in a business-centric world, Winnie.”

Her dad’s voice echoed in her mind, but she readily set it aside. That was one thing on which she and Dad fundamentally disagreed.

“I understand,” she said softly. “I’ve worked with many individuals whose businesses are their passions. You have my word that I’ll do whatever I can to help this event flourish again.”

Mrs. Wintour’s smile was worth Winnie’s empathy. “My husband was right. You are perfect for the job.”

At the end of the small tour, Winnie and Mrs. Wintour ended in front of the jousting grounds.

“Hopefully that was beneficial for you,” Mrs. Wintour said. “I know there isn’t much to see, but if there’s anything else I can help you with, please, let me know.”

Winnie nodded. “I think the only thing I might need is a list of the staff specifically working for the event. Other than that, I’ll be great for now.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mrs. Wintour said. “I can get a list sent to you within the hour.” Winnie nodded her appreciation as Mrs. Wintour sighed. “Well, I’d love to watch the jousting with you, but I’m afraid I’ve got to see how Arthur is fairing.”