Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam’s mom tugged at his sleeve as they took their seats at their assigned table. “There’s Johnny Ingram; he’s the head of the local chamber of commerce. And that’s his wife, Angela.”
She gave a little wave, like they were on the red carpet at an awards ceremony.
Sam couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
While he’d given Connor grief for making him bring his mom, Sam was secretly happy she was there.
She’d always been his biggest supporter and loved special occasions and the chance to catch up on town gossip.
Tonight promised to deliver on all three.
Sam glanced around for Connor, hoping he hadn’t lost his nerve. Connor had told him he was picking up his parents first before heading over. Maybe they’d been held up. Or Ian had changed his mind about coming.
Then Sam saw him. Connor appeared at the entrance doors, pushing his father in a wheelchair while his mom walked alongside. Sam waved them over. There was a flurry of movement as he and his mother stood to greet everyone and help make room for Ian’s chair at the end of the table.
“Maureen, look at you!” his mom exclaimed, giving her friend a hug. Connor’s mother was wearing a stylish floral dress and heels.
Maureen gave a modest flick of her hand. “Finally, an occasion to dress up.”
“I can’t remember the last time I wore heels,” Sam’s mother agreed. “And you, Connor, I’m used to seeing you in a pair of overalls.”
Connor looked dashing in his suit and tie—perfectly knotted, if Sam said so himself.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bryant,” he said. “I do what I can.”
“Please,” she said with a warm smile. “Call me Lily.”
Over her head, Connor waggled his eyebrows at Sam as if to say, “See?” Sam stifled a snort.
The invitation had specified formal attire, but by the looks of those gathering in the ballroom, that didn’t exactly translate to tuxedos and tails.
Sam had worn his favorite emerald-green suit that he’d bought from a boutique in the West Village.
He’d paired it with an icy-pink shirt, which he knew looked good yet was a rather bold choice for this neck of the woods.
He’d gotten the suit before he started at his last job, wanting to splurge on something unique that would make him feel successful—worthy of the role.
He brushed the fabric with his fingertips and wondered how he’d expected a piece of clothing to accomplish what a lifetime of hustling couldn’t.
While their mothers caught up, Connor stepped over to clasp Sam’s shoulder. It was such a macho gesture, two male coworkers greeting each other at a work function. No one would have guessed that mere hours ago, Connor had been on his knees, eagerly swallowing Sam’s cock.
“You look incredible,” Connor whispered out of earshot of the group, his eyes trailing down Sam’s body in a way that was much less platonic. “I mean, you always do, but this is next level.”
Sam tried to act as if Connor had just commented on the weather and not sent his heart fluttering with delight. “I figured this might be the only chance Oakdale gives me to pull out all the stops.”
Everyone took their seats at the table, and a server came around and filled their glasses with wine. Sam watched Maureen move Connor’s father’s glass out of reach.
“I can handle myself, Maureen,” Ian snapped and returned the glass to the edge of his plate. “She treats me like a child,” he muttered to no one in particular.
“Take it easy, Dad,” Connor said in an effort to smooth over the situation. His gaze flicked to Sam, almost in alarm. He had warned him after all. “How many categories are there again?”
Eager for an excuse to angle the conversation to lighter fare, Sam launched into a description of the award categories and the overall rundown of the evening. The prize-giving would happen first, followed by dinner and capped off with a brief presentation from the mayor.
“And you’re in the running for Up-and-Coming Businessperson?” Sam’s mother asked Connor, reaching for her wine.
“That’s right,” he replied. “But let’s not get our hopes up.”
“Well, whatever happens, I think all the nominees are winners.”
“That’s not really how it works, Mom,” Sam said, but she was already raising her glass in a toast.
“To Connor!”
Sam followed suit, and the rest of the table began clinking glasses.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Lily,” Connor said with a laugh.
“But if we’re toasting, then it’s only fair I give credit to Sam.
Despite doing my best to convince him otherwise, he pushed me to step up tonight, and it made me realize I have a lot to be thankful for in this town.
” He raised his glass and gave Sam a private smile. “To Sam.”
Sam touched his glass to Connor’s and took a small sip. He thought of all the extravagant events he’d attended for work, when the Cristal champagne and gourmet hors d’oeuvres did little to distract him from the fact that the people he was with wouldn’t remember his name in the morning.
It didn’t matter that the wine he was drinking was watery, that the candles in the center of the table were battery operated, or that on the wall behind the stage was a giant portrait of Buffalo Bill Cody.
What mattered was that the people seated around the tables genuinely gave a shit and had come together to support and celebrate each other.
The thought filled him with an unfamiliar warmth.
The mayor appeared on stage, and the room fell into a hushed silence.
Greenfield started by waxing poetic about how great Oakdale was and how proud he was to be hosting the awards.
He introduced the judges and their credentials before jumping into the industry categories.
Hospitality was first, with Jenny’s Diner coming out on top for the fifth year in a row.
Then came Retail and Tourism. For a town devoid of most traditional landmarks, it was no surprise that the Amazing Maize—a corn maze open year-round at a nearby farm—won Best Tourist Attraction.
Sam had seen the signboards along Main Street.
Not a place he was in any hurry to visit.
He’d watched Children of the Corn too many times as a kid to be even mildly tempted.
There was a brief break, during which the servers returned to top up drinks, and then the mayor took to the stage and announced they were moving on to the individual awards.
As Greenfield read the names of the finalists for each category, Sam saw Connor’s face tighten.
Sitting across from him, Sam stretched out his leg under the table and bumped Connor’s foot with his own.
Connor glanced up and flashed him a tense smile, and in that moment, Sam realized just how far he’d pushed him.
He’d well and truly put Connor out there.
Sam smiled back, but a lump lodged in his throat.
“Now we have the award for Up-and-Coming Businessperson—see what we did there?” The mayor ribbed with a cheesy grin. “So no excuses, ladies.”
Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. How inclusive.
“And the nominees are Gareth Hogg of Barbershop Blues—”
Sam’s mom leaned in. “I wasn’t too impressed with the last cut Dad got there.”
“Mom,” Sam said, shushing her.
“Connor Finnegan of Finnegan’s Electrical...”
Their table let out a whoop.
“And Jose Ramirez of Green Fingers Nursery.”
Sam glanced over at Connor’s dad. After the kerfuffle with the wine, the man had been quiet all evening. It was hard to gauge his reaction. He stared at the stage with a sort of sullen resignation.
“The winner this year impressed our judges with his extraordinary commitment to service. This is a man who’s not afraid to go above and beyond the call of duty or venture into a dark crawl space. It’s our own Connor Finnegan!”
The room broke out in applause, and Connor sat frozen in his seat.
“Get up, honey.” Maureen gave her son a little nudge.
Connor stood and straightened his jacket then bolted toward the stage. He shook the mayor’s hand as Greenfield passed him the award and directed him toward the podium.
“I figured I had no chance of winning this, so I haven’t actually prepared anything,” Connor said, having to stoop to reach the microphone.
“But thank you to the judges and everyone who’s called in when their dishwasher’s on the fritz.
Thanks to the team in the office, which is really just Sam Bryant.
He keeps the wheels from falling off. And a huge thanks to my parents for being here tonight.
You all know my dad, Ian. He built this business from the ground up, and I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. ”
The room once again filled with applause, followed by a couple of wolf whistles. On his way back to his seat, a woman at the next table caught Connor’s arm and gave him a sly wink. “Love the photos.”
“Ah,” Connor said, his cheeks reddening. His mom leaned in for a hug, and Connor set the award down on the table. On stage, the mayor announced that they’d be taking a ten-minute intermission before awarding the next category.
Sam met Connor’s gaze and mouthed, “Congrats.”
Connor shook his head, bemused.
“What photos?” Ian Finnegan asked from the end of the table.
“Oh, you haven’t seen them?” Sam’s mom gushed, pulling out her phone and tapping through to the app.
“Mom,” Sam said quickly. “We don’t have to—”
“On the company’s Instagram,” she continued, oblivious, and leaned over to show her phone to Ian seated beside her. “They’ve certainly been popular.”
Ian’s eyes widened as he swiped across the screen. Sam bit his lip, looking anywhere but at Connor.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Ian asked finally.
“Is what, Dad?” Connor’s voice was leaden.
“You hamming it up to drive the girls wild. You think that’s what gets solid repeat business? No, that’s taking this family’s good name and dragging it through the mud. But that’s nothing new to you, is it, Connor?”
Connor remained silent. Beside him, Connor’s mom tugged at her paper napkin, tearing off piece after piece.
“Mr. Finnegan, it was my idea,” Sam said quietly. “I posted the photos. I thought it might be a fresh way to generate interest.”
“By slapping a pretty face on the company I built from nothing? All you’ve done is cheapen our reputation.”
“I am the face of the business, Dad,” Connor shot back. “You haven’t worked there for over a year.”
“And just look what’s happened,” Ian growled, red spots of fury appearing on his forehead. “You hand over the reins to this fancy-looking fruit.”
Sam sucked in a mouthful of air and tried to keep his face from betraying him. Connor looked at Sam, stricken. It hurt like it had all those years ago, walking the halls at school, walking the streets of this town—a joke, a freak, an outsider.
Connor turned to his father, his expression dark with anger. “Dad, you owe Sam an apology.”
Ian pushed his wheelchair back from the table. “I don’t need to sit around and take this.”
“Dad,” Connor repeated, his voice pitching into a plea.
Sam could see the pain in his eyes. Knowing what he knew, knowing everything he’d struggled against.
Sam’s mother pushed out her chair and stood. She jutted her chin, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “I’ll save you the trouble, Ian. If you won’t extend my son the decency of an apology, we’ll be leaving.”
Sam remembered that voice. All those times he’d come home from school and collapsed on his bed, hoping no one would hear him cry.
It was his mom who would appear at his side.
“Don’t let anyone tell you who you are,” she’d say, her steady hand on his shoulder.
“They don’t know a goddamn thing.” That voice, those words, had gotten him through that last horrible year in Oakdale.
“Sam has worked too hard and overcome too much to sit around and put up with that kind of talk, thank you very much.” His mom looped her purse straps over her arm. “Congratulations, Connor. Lovely to see you, Maureen.”
Sam stood, his eyes meeting Connor’s for the briefest of moments before he turned and wordlessly followed his mother out of the room.