“Think what you like, Faith, but the fact is that things change. I’m really sorry about your daddy. But his vision for this festival has always been about turning the pockets of the people around here inside out and getting those coins flowing into the streets of Holly. Grant is a golden ticket to that end, and creating a unified front between the biggest guest sponsor and the charity’s CEO is key to securing large donations from the deepest pockets. Corporate pockets.”
Faith instantly connected the dots of this twisted manipulation right back to Grant’s mother—Hazel.
“Now, I don’t expect you to understand that with your one year of college and all,” Natalie said, “but corporations look for certain marketing elements when they’re considering large donations. Strong, cohesive marketing strategies in a business—or charity in this case—run by savvy executives. I’m sure you can see how showing those potential donors the dovetailed presentation of charity, sponsor, and celebrity will be the key to security big money for Holly.”
Natalie slapped on that dry, condescending smile. “And isn’t that what this festival is all about? Isn’t that what your daddy would have wanted?”
Livid. Faith was livid. In some distant part of her mind, she recognized that her anger was out of proportion to the situation. But in the scope of her life’s downward spiral, her emotions were far, far stronger than her rationale.
She took one giant, menacing step toward Natalie, and reaped far too much satisfaction from the way the other woman’s bright blue eyes widened.
“What you and Grant do is up to you,” she told Natalie, “but my dad started this damn festival, and it’s still running and bringing money into this community because my dad kept it going every fucking year. A decade before you even existed. So don’t you dare act like you know more about the business of fundraising, because he raised money for this town to pay for your education,” Faith stabbed Natalie’s chest with one rigid finger. “And your summer camps”—stab—“and your after school care”—stab—“because your parents”—stab—“were too fucking busy to raise a decent human being, and my father still cared.”
When Faith stopped to draw a breath, she realized she’d pushed Natalie several feet across the sales floor toward the exit. And the other woman was looking at Faith like she’d gone insane.
She may have snapped a nerve, but she wasn’t insane. She was tired of pretending everything was okay. She was tired of giving, giving, giving and not getting anything back. She was tired of not standing up for herself, for ignoring her own needs, and putting others first.
Grant had taught her that. Grant had taught her a lot of things.
“You’re clearly not thinking straight,” Natalie said, turning toward the door. “We’ll talk about this—“
Faith grabbed Natalie’s arm. She collected herself and kept her voice low and level, but made sure her steel tone was crystal clear. “We’ll finish this right now. You’re not taking this away from me, because I’m not letting go. So if you want light, power, water, tables and chairs at that festival, Natalie, you’ll step out of the judging lineup.”
When the woman’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line, Faith added, “If you want a fight, you’ll get one. And I promise you won’t only lose, but you will never live it down.”
Natalie jerked from Faith’s grasp with a disgusted huff and stalked to the door, flinging it open. Her dramatic exit was foiled when the anti-slam hinges Faith had installed kept the door from hitting the wall. Little did Faith realize she was
n’t installing them as much for the children of Holly, as she was for the adults who acted worse than children.
But long after Natalie disappeared into the night, Faith was left with her words eating away at her. She turned to get back to work so she could forget that she had no say in what Grant did or who he did it with. To ignore the hurt of knowing she was no more special to him than any other woman. And to work off the anger of getting extra mad at herself for placing her self worth on a man’s view of her.
Only she realized, depending on Natalie’s decision, she might not be delivering all these supplies to the festival. Which meant she’d just placed the success of the festival and the influx of money for Holly and all the good people here on the shoulders of an immature, self-centered, spoiled little bitch.
And that’s when the repercussions of her anger registered. And her shame sank in.
Her father would be so disappointed in her.
Faith’s heart dropped clear to her feet. She leaned back against the sales counter, covered her face with both hands, and started balling.
Ten
Grant virtually bounced up the steps to the hardware store after his time with Patrick. His brother had developed into a remarkable businessman, and once he’d gotten Faith’s story out of Grant, they’d talked in depth about the possibilities for her future. And he couldn’t wait to share them with her.
But when he reached the top step, he realized the store was dark and the closed sign was up on the door. Disappointment snuck in, but when he tried the door, it opened. He stepped in and listened, but heard silence. “Faith?”
No answer. Grant looked at the door leading to her apartment, but didn’t start that direction. She’d probably crashed early. And after what he’d put her through last night he really should let her get some rest.
When he turned toward the front of the store again, his gaze passed over the sales center, where a piece of paper taped to a register caught his eye.
It read:
Grant, I’m upstairs. Please lock the front door before you come up.
His chest loosened, and he smiled. His body flipped from off to on. From dark to light. From depressed to exhilarated.
Oh, hell, yeah. This was definitely different.
He pulled the note off the register and tossed it into the trash on his way to the apartment door, but paused when he caught sight of the back room. It was packed, floor to ceiling, wall to wall with equipment. One look and Grant knew it had taken her all night to collect, haul and stack everything into that space. He also knew she hadn’t had any help. Her employees would have been taking care of the store, and Grant would bet his brand new Rover that she’d sent them all home on time.