Page 38 of Winning Winnie’s Hand

Fat chance.

Every Sunday, the Knoxes gathered via the web to chat together as a family from all over the world. North America, Europe, Asia. Then, they would each take turns giving a list of updates on their accomplishments from oldest to youngest.

Mom and Dad had already shared the progress they’d made in their latest trials. Scott had given his spiel as an anesthesiologist at the most prominent hospital in Oregon. Samantha had told them all about her latest build as an architect in Germany. Spencer, the pilot, had no shame in showing off photos of him, his wife, and their new two-month-old baby girl riding elephants and exploring the floating markets during their trip to Thailand. And Sarah had spoken about the progress she’d made at her start-up company as a software engineer in California.

And then…there was Winnie. Win-Win-Winnie who had yet to be impressive to anyone.

“So what changes have you made so far?” Dad asked, clearly not letting her go until he received more info. He had to be desperate to discover something worth praising in her. “And how are the Wintours feeling about it all?”

“Oh, they’re just fine. Pretty open to things.” Minus one of them. “I’m still working through some of the changes, though.”

“What’s the estate like?” Mom asked, her eyes aglow, no doubt desiring to see it for herself.

Mom was just as driven as Dad was, though she was less involved in her kids’ lives. Too busy planning parties and creating charities. Even still, Winnie preferred Mom’s hands-off parenting approach to Dad’s meddling fingers.

Taking the opportunity to distract him from her job, Winnie explained what Foxwood was like, the décor, the size, the drive.

“It’s really opulent,” she said. “Super impressive.”

“Sounds like my kind of house,” Samantha, the architect, joked.

“Wait,” Dad said, and Winnie’s stomach tightened. “So why do they need your help at Foxwood, then, if they’re still so well-off?”

Winnie had walked right into that one. She raced to find a response that Dad would actually believe, glancing around to ensure no one was close to her. She wouldn’t want anyone who might know the Wintours to overhear her words. “So the estate is in really good shape, but Mr. Wintour wants me to help prevent anything that might injure it in the future.”

Dad still appeared hesitant, though he nodded all the same.

Say it now, Winnie. Before your chance is lost.

“And, uh…” She swallowed. “My first job is to improve the faire they have going on here. After that, I’ll be onto something else.”

There. She’d said it. No big deal. Everyone was fine. No one had died. They were all still breathing.

Although, the silence was deafening.

“A fair?” her oldest brother Scott asked. “As in, like, the county fairs they hold with rodeos and fried Twinkies and funnel cakes?”

There was some curiosity in his tone, but a marked judgment sounded louder. “No, it’s not like a county fair,” she rushed to explain. “It’s a renaissance faire more than anything.”

A greater silence than even before met her. She could hear their thoughts as if they all spoke them aloud.

“Wow, Winnie. What a prestigious gig.”

“You didn’t tell anyone you’re a Knox, right?”

“Are you sure you can manage such a strenuous job?”

What was worse than all of that was the look on Dad’s face—that same old expression he seemed to always wear when speaking with Winnie.

Disappointment.

She wished she was imagining it, but she knew him too well to ever be so hopeful.

“What did you do, Winnie?” he asked.

Winnie frowned. “I didn’t do anything, Dad. It was Mr. Wintour’s suggestion.”

“But that wasn’t what you and he originally agreed on,” he stated, obviously annoyed.