Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
A manda struggled with the heavy wooden backdrop, trying to maneuver it into position. Her arms ached from the effort, and she wished she had asked for help. As she pushed and pulled, she suddenly felt the weight of the backdrop ease. Looking up, she saw Connor holding the other end, his strong hands gripping the wood firmly.
“Need a hand?” he asked, his blue eyes meeting hers.
She nodded, surprised to see him. They worked together silently, moving the backdrop into place. Once it was settled, Amanda stepped back, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand.
“Thanks,” she said, uncertain of why he was here. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the festival… or with her.
“Can we talk?” He shifted uneasily on his feet.
“I thought you’d pretty much said everything there was to say.” She crossed her arms, unconsciously adopting a defensive posture as conflicting emotions swirled within her. Part of her still stung from his abrupt rejection.
“Look, I…” He took a step toward her. “I… I want to apologize for how I reacted. For the things I said to you. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”
Surprise swept through her at his words, but she remained silent, letting him continue.
He took another step closer. “Let me explain. Please. It’s not just about the harsh review. It’s about my past, and the reasons I left New York in the first place.”
She nodded, sensing that Connor needed to tell his story in his own time.
“When I was younger and living in New York, my art caught the eye of a prominent gallery owner. I started to make a name for myself. But… I trusted the wrong people. Desiree was one of them.”
Her eyes widened. “You know Desiree?”
“I do. She was involved in the art world back then, not as a critic, but as a buyer. She knew everyone who was anyone. And I thought she was my friend. She gave me advice, and I listened to her. I was young and foolish.”
“What happened?” she asked softly, drawn into his tale by the raw emotion breaking through in his voice.
“She encouraged me to sell a handful of my pieces to a company. I didn’t have a lawyer look over the contract and Desiree assured me everything was fine. But then, as I got more well-known, the company took my art and mass-produced it. Like the kind of cheap wood knickknack you’d see in a tourist trap.”
“I’m so sorry.” Amanda could see the pain in his eyes, knowing full well the importance he placed on the authenticity of his craft. Her heart ached for him.
“I was consumed by anger, but found out that I’d unwittingly signed my rights away to those pieces and any replica of them. Desiree thought it was no big deal. She even thought I should sell them more pieces. But that’s… that’s not what my art is.”
“Of course not.”
“Then a smaller gallery showed some of those mass-produced pieces, trying to cash in on my name. As those pieces began to flood the market, the value of my real artwork dropped significantly.” His eyes glinted with anger and frustration. “I got fewer requests for gallery showings. Disillusioned with the whole art scene in New York, I finally decided to leave. Desiree ridiculed me for leaving and not giving over more of my work. She called it easy money.”
“Desiree was wrong. Your artwork is one of a kind.” She took a step toward him and took his hands in hers. “I wish I had known all this.”
“That’s what Megan said. That none of this is your fault. And that I should explain why I was so angry. It was just Desiree messing with my life again. And taking down the other people who were showing their art at the festival, victims of my past with Desiree. They didn’t deserve that. She never even gave them a fair review.”
“I’m glad Megan encouraged you to come talk to me. I understand so much better now.”
“It wasn’t just Megan,” he smiled sheepishly. “Miss Eleanor came and talked to me too. She said I was a fool for letting one review sway my decision-making.”
Amanda laughed. “Miss Eleanor is wise and opinionated. And she’s never one to shy away from speaking her mind.”
He looked straight into her eyes. “Will you forgive me for the way I acted?”
“I do forgive you now that I understand.” The words came easily, and a surprising sense of relief washed over her.
“Do you think there’s still room for my artwork in the show?”
“Of course there is.”
“And what about us? Have I ruined everything? I don’t blame you if you don’t trust me anymore.”
Did she trust him? She looked at him for a long moment. “I was hurt when you cut me off like that. I admit it.” She swallowed hard, laying her heart on the line. “I thought we had… something… between us.”
“We did. We do. If you’ll give me another chance.”
She reached up and touched his face, feeling the hint of whiskers beneath her fingertips as she traced his cheek. “I’d like nothing more than to start over with you. Try this again.”
Connor broke into a wide grin and swept her off her feet, twirling her around in circles. After he set her down, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Thank you for forgiving me. And for giving us another chance.”
She leaned against him, drinking in his strength and his warmth. She tilted her head up to look at him, and he kissed her gently before stepping back. “Now, how about I help you get all this ready? And I’ll be here first thing in the morning to set up the actual artwork.”