Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
O n Thursday, Megan and Brooklyn arrived in a flurry of activity, their presence instantly filling Connor’s cottage with laughter and commotion. Brooklyn’s curls bounced as she twirled and danced around the room chanting, “We’re going to the festival. Festival. Festival.”
“Brooklyn, inside voice, please,” Megan pleaded as she hauled a suitcase inside.
“Here, let me get that for you.” Connor reached for the bag.
“Thanks. Got one more trip out to the car. I swear Brooklyn packed enough for a two-week stay.” Megan shook her head.
“Can we stay for two weeks?” Brooklyn’s eyes lit up.
“No,” Megan and Connor said in unison.
Megan looked at him questioningly. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. It’s great.” He offered a tight-lipped smile but knew his tone sounded unconvincing.
“Brooklyn, take that little bag of yours back to your room and unpack, okay?” Megan motioned to the pink backpack adorned with flowers and a purple unicorn.
Brooklyn grabbed the bag, slipped it over her shoulder with a grunt of effort, and raced off down the hall. “The festival. The festival,” she chanted as she disappeared.
“Okay, now talk to me. Something’s wrong. I can tell by the look on your face.”
“Everything is fine.” He shifted his weight, avoiding her eyes.
“Liar.” She set her lips in a firm line.
“What are we? Six?” He rolled his eyes at Megan, but he knew she wouldn’t let it go.
“You might as well tell me because you know I’ll get it out of you.” She stood with her hands on her hips and a stubborn jut to her chin, daring him to try to dodge her questions.
Connor held up a hand in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m just not thrilled with the idea of going to the festival. I’d rather stay home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why? You don’t even want to go see your work in the art show?”
“About that…”
“Connor, what did you do?” She pinned him with a glare.
“I pulled out of the art show.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
He clenched his jaw. “I had my reasons.”
“Well, I’m not budging until you tell me,” she demanded.
He let out a long, labored sigh. “Okay, so Amanda arranged for an art critic to come see the artwork. A preview. At that cramped room at city hall, for Pete’s sake. Who does that? Anyway… the review came out, and it was… harsh. Not only of my work, but she insulted everyone’s work.”
“So you let one bad review make you pull out of the show?” Her voice was full of either frustration or reproach, but he wasn’t sure which. Or maybe it was both.
He looked directly at his sister. “It was by… Desiree…”
Realization and knowing flickered in Megan’s eyes. “For crying out loud. Can that woman just get out of your life?”
“Evidently, not.”
“But why would you let anything she says make you change your mind about showing your work?” Megan pressed, her mouth set in a firm frown.
“Don’t you see? She panned everyone’s work to get back at me.” He tried to patiently explain all this to Megan so she’d understand. Agree with him.
“So you pulled out… so she won.” Megan shook her head. “She’s still trying to control your life. And by pulling out of the show… you let her pull your strings. Again.”
“It’s not like that.” He glared at his sister, his voice taking on a hard edge. “And I’m mad at Amanda for going behind my back and arranging for an art critic to come. She never said anything about this being more than a simple, local art show.”
“I wasn’t aware the event coordinator had to get the okay from you for every decision she makes about promoting the event.” Megan rolled her eyes. “Did you at least explain to Amanda why you were so upset? Your history with Desiree?”
“Nope. There’s no need to. Things are over between Amanda and me.”
Megan plopped down into a chair. “You are the most stubborn, pig-headed man I’ve ever met,” she chided, but the words held no real bite. She sighed. “It’s like you work at making your life harder.”
“Gee, thanks for the support, sis.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. Why couldn’t Megan understand? Desiree represented the part of the art world he’d worked so hard to put far behind him.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t have contacted Desiree if she’d known about what happened before.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to be in the show, anyway. And whatever was happening between Amanda and me? Or what was starting? It had no future. She lives in New York. And I’m perfectly fine with my life here on Magnolia. Nothing would make me move back to New York.”
Megan eyed him closely. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.” He nodded his head roughly. “So I’ll go to the festival because of Brooklyn. But we’re not going to the art show.”
“I really think you should talk to Amanda. Explain it to her.” Megan pushed off the chair and walked over to him, jabbing her finger at his chest. “And I don’t think you should have pulled out of the show.”
“Megs. This is my decision.” He said the words more sharply than he’d intended. “Please, drop it,” he added more gently. She was just being a protective sister and wanted the best for him. He knew that. But her constant opinions and advice just opened old wounds he wasn’t ready to face.
Connor sat at the table long after Megan took Brooklyn out for a walk on the beach with the hopes of burning off some of Brooklyn’s energy after their long drive. Megan’s words looped through his mind, an endless chorus he couldn’t silence.
And as much as he wanted her to back off, to give him space to process his own feelings, he couldn’t deny she was right about some things she’d said. And it did annoy him that he was still dancing to Desiree’s tune, still letting her get under his skin and influence his decisions.
A sharp rap at his door brought Connor out of his thoughts. He got up from the table where he’d been shuffling papers, pretending to do paperwork. Why was Megan knocking? And why was she back so soon? She’d promised to take Brooklyn to the ice cream shop after their walk. He tugged the door open and his eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected visitor.
The woman people called Miss Eleanor stood on his front step, a determined expression on her face. Why Miss Eleanor and not Mrs. Whatever-her-last-name-was was beyond him.
“Mr. Dempsey. I’d like to speak with you.” It was clear she wasn’t asking his permission.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, his manners kicking in automatically. “Would you care to come in?”
“No, this is fine.” She stood perfectly erect, a firm set to her shoulders. “We haven’t even been formally introduced.” She shoved her hand out. “Eleanor Griffin.”
He shook her hand, then slipped his hand back into his pocket, unsure of what to expect from this impromptu visit.
“Now, what is this I hear about you pulling your artwork out of the show?”
“I… uh…” He stammered, taken aback by her directness. Why was it any of this woman’s business? Was everyone going to be on his case about things that were his decisions to make?
She waved a hand. “I know you like your privacy. I get that,” she continued, her voice softening slightly. “I admit I like mine too. But I saw that carving you did, and it was… exquisite. You’re very talented, Mr. Dempsey. Your work has a unique quality that captures the essence of our small little town.”
“Thank you.” But it still was his decision to show his art or not. Even if everyone thought they had a say in it.
“That Desiree woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Miss Eleanor said, her tone sharp. “She obviously doesn’t appreciate the real talent that went into all the work in the show. I don’t think you should let one review cause you to withdraw from the show. Your art deserves to be seen and appreciated by the community.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” He didn’t feel like delving into the personal reasons behind his decisions, especially not with a near stranger.
“Is it?” She arched a brow, her expression skeptical. “You’re a local artist. We need local artists to display their work at the festival. The festival is a celebration of the town. And our history. And what we’ve become now. Our local art is an important part of that. It showcases the talent and creativity that thrives here.”
“But I?—”
She waved her hand again. “You can make excuses if you want. But the town needs you. And you should want to show your work. It’s lovely. I saw it once on display at a gallery in New York City when I was visiting there.”
“You did?” The fact that she remembered seeing his work in the city years ago and remembered him caught him off guard.
“I did. You have a great talent, and it seems like a shame to hide it. It’s beautiful and you should be very proud of your work. I want you to at least think about putting your work back in the show.”
He nodded slowly, unable to resist the force of her impassioned words.
“And I know you’ve been dating Miss Kingston.” The change in subject was so unexpected he could hardly register it before she continued. “It would be unfortunate to let this situation jeopardize your relationship. She’s a remarkable woman, and she’s done so much for this town. We should all be supportive.” She gave him a meaningful glance.
“I… I’ll give it some thought.”
She turned to leave, paused, and then faced him once more. “And you’d be a fool to let one person’s opinion change the course of your life.”
With those parting words, she descended the stairs and marched off down the sidewalk.
Eleanor Griffin was a force to be reckoned with.
And was she right? Was Megan right? Had he made a big mistake? He scrubbed his hand over his face. Why had he let Desiree push his buttons? Let her get under his skin? Yet again.
He knew he was a better man than this. He was.
His heart sank as guilt washed over him. And look what he’d done to Amanda. Pulled out of the show when she was depending on him. Accused her of going behind his back when she had no idea of his history with Desiree.
Megan and Brooklyn approached, strolling up the sidewalk hand in hand. The remnant of Brooklyn’s chocolate ice cream was smeared across the front of her shirt. “Uncle Connor. We had the bestest ice cream.”
He chuckled. “I can see that.”
Megan, however, looked at him closely. “You okay?”
“You’re always asking me that.”
“Because I’m always worried about you,” she replied, her tone gentle but firm.
Brooklyn, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, chimed in eagerly, “Guess what, Uncle Connor? We saw Miss Amanda, and she was working in the pavilion. She said she was getting stuff ready for tomorrow. The festival’s tomorrow, you know. We’re going, right? I can’t wait.”
“We’re going, Princess.” He turned to his sister. “Can I leave you two alone for a bit? I have somewhere I need to be.”
A knowing grin spread across Megan’s face. “I hope it involves going to the pavilion.”
He grinned back at her. “It just might. And you won’t hear me say this again, but you were right. I have been a fool.”
“Told you so.” Megan laughed and gave him a nudge. “Go fix your mess. We’ll be here when you get back.”