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Dad didn’t respond, simply waited for Matthew to continue.

“She criticized the estate. She kept rattling off one thing after another that needed fixing, like Foxwood was just one big flaw. It was ridiculous.”

Dad stared. “That’s her job, Matthew. I specifically hired her to do that for us.”

Matthew’s defenses slipped through his fingertips like water out of the tap. “Yes, but she was just saying it to me so freely,” he said, scrambling to maintain control. “If she talks to me like that, thinking I was just another worker, who knows what else she’d say about our home—and to whom?”

Dad leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his lap. “If anything, I’d say you’re more to blame than she is. You shouldn’t have misled her by not telling her who you are.”

Matthew moved away from the heat of the fire, sitting down on a chair nearby. It was getting too hot to stand near the hearth. Or was it his growing discomfort that was agitating him?

Dad’s condemning look told him the truth.

“You’re right,” Matthew relented begrudgingly, staring into the fire’s flames. “I should’ve told her who I was. And honestly, what she said wasn’t too far from the truth. There is much to improve here.”

But the festival?

His anger from before had dissipated, settling into a disappointed frustration. Dad’s study had always had that effect on him. “I just wish you would have told me beforehand that you hired her to be over the festival,” he continued in a quieter tone. “Or at least hired someone with more experience.”

Dad watched him carefully, taking a moment before responding. “I understand how you feel, Matthew. I do. And I’m sorry for not telling you before tonight what my plans were. I should have.”

Matthew had always appreciated his dad’s humility when he apologized. No excuses were ever made—his words merely pure and truthful.

Matthew could learn a thing or two from him.

“I will say, though,” Dad continued, “that you needn’t worry about her ruining what you’ve created. She’s a professional, as was made evident tonight with her reaction to how you treated her.”

Matthew looked away. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation was headed—turning him into the villain and Winnie into the hero.

“Really,” Dad said, “I have no doubt she will improve the festival and make it profitable once again.”

There it was, the word Matthew despised. Profitable. He knew his festival had failed, costing Foxwood thousands of pounds. He also knew that Dad, while patient with Matthew’s lack of business savvy, was growing frustrated with the waste. Matthew was doing his best, and yet, his best just wasn’t good enough.

“I know what you’re thinking, Matthew,” Dad said as his silence prolonged. “You always get that look when you’re down on yourself. But that’s not what this is, all right?”

Matthew blew out a snort of derision. “How is it not? You’ve lost faith in my ability to revive the festival and have hired an outsider before you have to cancel the festival altogether.”

Matthew watched his father carefully, knowing he’d hit the truth as Dad sighed.

“Matthew, we need help.”

“You mean I need help,” Matthew clarified.

“No, I said we and I mean we,” Dad insisted. “I need help with the estate, and you need help with the festival. But there is absolutely nothing wrong with needing help.”

Once again, he had to agree with his dad. Foxwood was in a relatively good standing compared to other estates in Yorkshire—and England as a whole—but Dad was wise for seeking help to prevent any future failure.

Matthew hadn’t been so wise with his festival. He was good at many things, but business wasn’t one of them. It just frustrated him to no end that his love and passion for the past wasn’t enough anymore to have his festival succeed. He’d always believed that if he put on an accurate event, with proper food, jousting, costuming, and actions, he’d be able to convince others to love the medieval era like he did. Then they would keep coming back for more. Obviously, he was doing something wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Would Winnie?

Matthew sighed. He hated to admit it, but he was struggling. He had been for years, ever since Dad’s diagnosis of multiple sclerosis when they’d all feared the worse.

In the wake of that illness, Matthew had taken on more responsibility than he’d ever had before, giving up on his own dreams and aspirations to help Mom with her mental health, his sister, Char, with her divorce, his nieces with their lack of a father, and Dad with his illness. Matthew had also taken over sole care of the estate for a few years, which he was sure had taken ten years off his own life. All of this had led him to extreme amounts of stress with no one to rely on but himself.

Now, however, Mom was in a great place, Char and the girls were well cared for by the entire family, and being in remission, Dad had once again taken over Foxwood.

And Matthew? Matthew was left with his festival. The festival he’d built from the ground up. Was it any wonder why he was having a hard time with the idea of relying on a random stranger to help? It made sense to secure the future of Foxwood, but that didn’t prevent the humiliation Matthew was experiencing for having been found wanting.