Page 82 of Winning Winnie’s Hand

“While I appreciate your determination,” he began, “I do need to say, that’s not why I brought you in here.”

She paused. “It isn’t?”

“No. I merely wished to see how you were doing. You may be used to criticism in your line of work, but that feedback was a lot to take in, even for myself.”

Winnie didn’t know what to say. Why was he being so nice? She’d wasted his money, his time, his resources. She didn’t deserve his understanding. She deserved to get the boot.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” she said, unable to say anything else.

Mr. Wintour frowned. She didn’t see that expression often from him. Matthew, on the other hand…

His blue eyes flashed in her mind. What did he think of her failure? Was he hosting a victory dance party in the assembly hall for finally getting rid of the wicked witch of the wild, wild west?

“Now why would you think that you didn’t live up to my expectations?” Mr. Wintour asked, still frowning. “You’ve exceeded my expectations.”

Winnie gave a mirthless laugh. “Thank you for being so nice, but I know that isn’t possible.”

“It is possible,” he defended. “You made more money, grew more interest, brought in more people than I ever could have hoped. Just because there were a few hiccups along the way—many of them beyond your control, by the way—doesn’t mean you were a disappointment in the slightest. I’m sure the next festival will be even more of a success.”

Winnie wasn’t sure she was hearing him correctly. The next festival?

He leaned forward, his wince barely noticeable. “I know the plan was to have you switch to overseeing the estate. But seeing how disappointed you are has me wanting to give you a second chance with the event.”

She stared. Was he serious? Was he actually giving her another opportunity to prove herself?

“I can see your hesitation,” he continued. “And really, if you’d like to leave behind the festival altogether so we can focus on the estate instead, I’ll gladly accept that. After all, Foxwood was the original agreement we had. But if you have any desire whatsoever to see the festival through to its success—to work with it over the next few weeks and try again—I would love to see you do so.”

Winnie couldn’t say a word. She could hardly formulate a thought. He wanted her to try again. He still had faith that she could do it. But, how?

“Winnie?” he asked as she remained silent.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand,” she said, still reeling. “I’ve used so much of your money. Who’s to say I won’t fail again and waste more?”

And who was to say that Matthew wouldn’t have a stomach ulcer if she chose to stay? She didn’t know if she had the mental fortitude to battle with him any longer.

“You know,” Mr. Wintour began, tipping his head to the side, “I didn’t have to spend much time with your dad to find out how driven he is. He expects nothing short of perfection from himself and everyone around him. He doesn’t need second chances because he succeeds the first time—always.”

Winnie listened to his words, a growing pressure on her chest. Was this supposed to make her feel better? She knew how Dad was. She also knew how she could never live up to his standards.

“I can see that same drive in you, Winnie,” Mr. Wintour said, “and also that same pressure to perform perfectly the first time. But you’ll find that in the Wintour household, we don’t believe in succeeding the first time. We allow failure and mistakes. We give second chances, third chances. Even hundredth chances, so long as the person is willing and able to keep trying.”

She looked up at him, humility blanketing her soul.

“So my question for you, Winnie, is this. Would you like to have another go at it?”

Winnie didn’t know what to say. She’d never been treated more like a human being than with the man seated before her. But his confidence in her was too great—especially when she’d done nothing to earn it.

“We can still hold the event in two weeks which should be enough time to prepare,” he suggested when she remained silent. “And I can be more or less involved. Whatever will help you out the most.”

Winnie shook her head, guilt rendering her nearly speechless. She didn’t deserve to work for someone so generous.

“I really am so grateful for your offer, Mr. Wintour. But I don’t know if I’m up to doing it again.”

“I understand. But may I ask you to take the rest of the weekend to decide? Come Monday, you can either leave Foxwood, help with the estate, or have another go at the festival. Whatever you choose, I will be happy to accept your decision.”

Winnie had been lulled into a false sense of security again with his kindness and talks of second chances. But she couldn’t handle the fact that she’d done something she’d never done while being a consultant. She’d failed. She was used to not succeeding in every other aspect of her life. Why did she have to suffer in this job now, too?

“So, what do you say?” he asked, his tone hopeful.