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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The following morning, Winnie stood at the front of the meeting hall, greeting the faire staff with a smile as they entered the large room and made their way to the seats she’d set up an hour before.

The meeting hall—which had been refurbished a few years before from Foxwood’s old carriage house—was warm, inviting, and large enough to be an event venue in its own right. At two stories tall, the hall boasted shining wooden floors and black, brown, and white stone walls. Wooden eaves framed the roof in perfect uniformity while three large candelabras cast light across every inch of the setting.

Why they didn’t hold weddings, receptions, work parties, or other events there was beyond Winnie. That would be one of her first suggestions to Mr. Wintour as soon as she finished with this little project on the side.

That’s what she’d decided to call her work with the faire—a side project. Not only did it help her manage her expectations, but she was also fairly certain it would drive Matthew a little crazy, and that was always fun.

She recognized a few of the faces as the staff began to file in, though she consulted the list Mrs. Wintour had given her the day before to name the rest.

Mrs. Birdwhistle sat on the front row with her husband, Hubert. Mr. Fogg, the monotonous announcer, and his wife, the also-emotionless woman who’d sold tickets at the front entrance, sat beside them. Two teenage stable hand boys came in next, then Dorothy Porter soon after, looking every bit as annoyed at having to be there as she had selling food to Winnie a couple days before. The woman rolled her eyes, then took a seat in the back row, pulling out her phone instantly.

More continued to fill the room, and Winnie fought the urge to make herself look busy. Instead, she stood calmly beside a table, papers situated neatly across it with a projection ready on a blank screen behind her. Avoiding eye contact and fiddling with papers would ease her discomfort, but it would also make her look unprofessional, so she maintained focus on those walking in, smiling to help put the staff at ease.

This was always the most nerve-wracking part of the job—meeting the group of individuals whose lives she was going to change.

“Good morning,” she greeted with a smile as more entered. A few of them responded with hesitant nods. “Come in. Have a seat. Is it warm enough in here for you all?”

Mrs. Birdwhistle spoke as the rest of them merely nodded. “Quite toasty, yes.”

Winnie had come in earlier to ensure the place would be as warm as the stables next door. The Wintours certainly cared for their horses. After speaking with little Ava and Lilly the day before, Winnie now knew the love of the animals stretched from old to young at Foxwood, which was always lovely to hear.

She’d been like that once, entirely in love with horses. Before Dad had hit her with a reality two-by-four. Now she avoided them at all costs, aside from the occasional stolen glance here and there.

Setting her thoughts aside, she greeted a few others—Jess, the woman who’d played the damsel, and her husband, David Newell, who played another knight, both of them appearing around Winnie’s age.

“Come on in,” she encouraged as the final knight—James Pryor—hesitated in the doorway.

He moved forward and took a seat on the back row, glancing to the others with uncertainty.

Winnie knew she had Matthew to thank for much of the staff’s reluctance. She could only imagine what he’d said to them about her.

At this point, though, it hardly mattered. Her plans had already been greenlit by Mr. Wintour earlier that morning, so they were good to go.

“I’m going to let you run with this,” he’d said. “I trust you to make the best decisions for the festival. But I will say, you’ll be met with resistance.”

She fully expected as much—from one individual in particular who had yet to show his face.

Big shocker there.

Mr. Wintour had encouraged her again that morning to stay strong. “If my son gives you any grief, simply send him my way.”

Matthew would just love to be sent to his daddy for misbehaving, wouldn’t he? As appealing as it sounded, Winnie wasn’t sure she’d ever do such a thing. They had made some major progress yesterday in the sunshine at the park. She’d received some good insight from Char, found out Matthew wasn’t married after all, and realized if she teased him, she could maintain control of their professional relationship.

Of course, that was easier said than done with a man who looked better in a bun than she did.

Eight o’clock rolled around, and each member of staff had arrived apart from Matthew, but she wasn’t going to wait for him.

She faced forward with a smile. “Good morning, everyone. I…”

Her words faded as, true to form, Matthew appeared in the doorway with an innocent expression, wearing jeans, a dark green jacket, and a thin white t-shirt. He looked at the group, paused, then sauntered in as if he owned the place.

All right, technically, he would one day, but that was beside the point.

She waited as he scooted past the others on the back row and finally took a seat with a loud sigh. His frown from yesterday was gone, replaced with an easy half-smile that revealed he knew exactly what he was doing by coming in late.

Well, so did she.