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More than anything, she couldn’t risk Dad’s reputation being negatively affected by her messing things up. He’d vouched for her abilities. If she didn’t succeed, who knew if he’d ever help her find a consulting gig again? Then she’d be right back to where she was years before, jobless, passionless, heartless. A major disappointment to the Knox family as a whole.

Swiftly, she picked up the branches of her defenses, then stuck them around her chest in a makeshift protection.

“I see where you’re coming from,” she stated diplomatically, her voice as wooden and hollow as her fortifications. “I agree that heart is very important, but…you need an event that earns money. Not an event that offers a history lesson.”

The second the words left her mouth, Winnie’s heart shriveled in her chest. She sounded just like Dad.

“You don’t need to ride horses, Winnie,” he’d said. “You need a reality check.”

How painfully she’d received those words as a teenager. How excruciating they’d been. And now, she was reciting the same thing back to Matthew, who’d finally had the courage to humble himself and ask to keep the heart of the festival the same. Was she really so stupid to have responded so defensively?

Matthew didn’t react for a minute, his expression remaining unchanged until he looked away with a single nod, the ridges in his jaw returning.

“Well, thank you for that,” he said, backing away with his eyes on the door behind him. “Now I know what to expect from you in the future.”

Then he turned around and left her in the assembly hall alone, the echoing of his shoes reverberating in her ears and in her soul.

Long after cleaning up the meeting, long after speaking with each staff member alone, Matthew’s words remained swirling around in Winnie’s mind because she just couldn’t find an answer to his question. If there was no heart or passion involved in what she did—then why was she doing it at all?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Progress with the festival was steady, even though Winnie felt like a chicken running around with its head cut off, trying to accomplish all of her tasks and everyone else’s beside, all while dealing with money constraints as she fought to strategically save every pound of Mr. Wintour’s she could.

Fortunately, Jess was a massive help, renting rides, finding other food options, and being a positive influence on others. That is, when she wasn’t being forced to joust. Getting her on board with being an undercover female knight was taking a great deal of convincing, but Winnie continually put her faith in the woman.

Mrs. Birdwhistle and the teenage boys, too, were pulling their weight with the horses and tournament planning. But Mrs. Porter wouldn’t let go of her cabbage chowder, Mrs. Jones refused to hire more entertainment, and Mrs. Fogg couldn’t find tents to rent because she didn’t even know how to search for them on the internet. Furthermore, Mr. Fogg couldn’t animate his voice to save his life, and the knights didn’t hesitate to express their disapproval of a scripted event, jousting with Jess, and predetermined scoring.

Along with each individual and their very strong opinions, Winnie was also having to deal with last-minute cancellations of carnival games and hiring overly priced sideshows, all the while dealing with money constraints.

The only person she didn’t have to fight with, surprisingly enough, was the one person she’d expected to fight with the most—Matthew. He went along with each of her suggestions, never saying a word unless it was to encourage others to follow her ways.

The only reasonable explanation to his change in passion was that his spirit had been broken, her words having finally done the trick. Turns out, she was more like Dad than she thought.

She’d tried to apologize to Matthew for being brash, for not listening to him and agreeing to follow along with his plan at least to some degree, but due to her tight schedule and the time constraints laid on her—and her complete and utter humiliation at having to say sorry again—she had zero opportunity to do so.

Nearly a week after their meeting in the assembly hall, on a drizzly Sunday, Winnie spent the morning at church, then headed straight back to her room at Foxwood. She was glad for the weather and the nice excuse it was to remain indoors. She didn’t want to chance seeing Matthew at the park again, or his delightful family. They reminded her too much that she had to chat with her own family today.

Despite her best attempts to slow down time, the call eventually came. At first, she tried to remain in her room, but the rain must have lessened her cell service and the internet, as she was continuously kicked out of the chat due to poor connection. After the fifth time of attempting and failing to connect, Winnie debated on whether or not to bother trying again.

The option of a peaceful sabbath with no questions about her job and no comparisons between her life and her siblings’ was astonishingly tempting. But Dad would just end up calling Winnie for an update—or worse, he’d call Mr. Wintour to demand proper internet and better cell service for his daughter.

Winnie grimaced. It was better to try again, but this time, she’d go somewhere she knew she’d find success.

Grabbing her earbuds and laptop, she headed downstairs, having learned over the last week that the only reliable place for a stable internet connection was in the small dining area situated right off the kitchens.

Being two in the afternoon, she was fairly certain she’d receive enough privacy there. If not, she’d have the excuse not to speak. Either way, she’d get credit for trying.

Win-Win-Winnie.

Within a few minutes of arriving, she had established a secure connection to the video chat and sat on one of the benches behind a wooden table set aside for Foxwood’s staff.

“There she is,” Mom said with a smile.

Her siblings and parents shifted in fluid movements, as opposed to the jittery messes they were before.

“You got it working,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, finally,” Winnie said. “I just had to walk to the other side of the estate.”