Page 48

“They are beautiful girls, Char,” Winnie said with a sincere smile. “You must consider yourself very lucky to have them.”

“Oh, I do, even if they’re a handful.” Char stared off at them for a moment. “If only their dad knew how great they were.” She glanced back to Winnie. “He gave up all his rights to move in with a…less-than-desirable in London a few years back.”

Matthew nearly pressed a hand to his brow. Char had always been an over-sharer, which was definitely not a typical British trait, but she hardly cared.

Would Winnie? He scrutinized the consultant, wondering how she’d react, but she nodded in measure, not hesitating a moment before responding.

“His loss, though, isn’t it?” she said with more understanding than Matthew could comprehend. “Missing out on the girls and you.”

Char smiled, clearly touched by this near-stranger’s words. “I knew I’d like you, Winnie.”

They shared a smile, and Matthew stared between them again, wondering at the swiftness with which their relationship had formed.

“So how are you finding Foxwood?” Char asked next.

“I’m loving it,” Winnie said with a nod. “It’s a gorgeous house in the most stunning location.”

“That’s not what you said when you first arrived,” Matthew murmured.

Char looked back at him with a look that said, “You’re embarrassing yourself, Matthew.”

But he merely looked at Winnie, challenging her to disagree with the truth.

Winnie merely smiled. “I never made a complaint about Foxwood. I only mentioned the spotty cell service and the mud on the side of the road.”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Char said with a shake of her head. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve complained to our dad about the cell service. And the mud? It’s entirely out of hand. I’m glad you’re here to fix it.” Then she looked back to Matthew. “And the festival. It’s seen better days.”

Matthew pulled back. Char was being brutal today.

It was a good job he was a kind brother, or he’d be at her, too.

“Well, I hope I can help,” Winnie said.

She was showing far more humility than she had the day before.

Winnie-Freakin’-Knox. He was never going to be able to forget that. The level of confidence she’d shown, the spark of pride in her eye that had somehow made her look all the more attractive. Honestly, if it wasn’t for their current circumstances, he could almost admit to admiring her for her courage.

Almost.

He still couldn’t believe how spot on she’d been in her assumptions about him. The Birdwhistles and a few others had once suggested adding more fantastical elements to his historically accurate event, while someone else had pushed to bring in more well-known foods, but he’d set the proposals aside without giving them a chance, just as Winnie had guessed. He couldn’t risk losing the authenticity he’d pushed for. That was the only thing they had going for them now—the only thing that was still him about the festival.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to help, Winnie,” Char continued. “Just don’t let this chap get you down.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder at Matthew.

“Oh, I’m not worried about him,” Winnie said, as the two continued once more like he wasn’t there. “I’ve been placed in charge of far more difficult individuals.”

“I’m not being difficult,” he muttered.

Winnie shrugged. “I’ve got different words if you prefer. Challenging. Impossible. Mulish.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Char said, her eyes dancing as she glanced between Matthew and Winnie.

“What is?” Matthew asked gruffly.

“Just you two working together,” she replied cheerfully.

“Yeah, so much fun,” he returned.

Char glanced to Winnie, somehow sharing a knowing look with her. He knew women understood each other in ways men could never possibly comprehend, but the girls had only just met. What were they sharing? And what more would be shared?