Page 50 of Backward Motion

“Connor Finnegan of Finnegan’s Electrical...”

Their table let out a whoop.

“And Jose Ramirez of Green Fingers Nursery.”

Sam glanced over at Connor’s dad. After the kerfuffle with the wine, the man had been quiet all evening. It was hard to gauge his reaction. He stared at the stage with a sort of sullen resignation.

“The winner this year impressed our judges with his extraordinary commitment to service. This is a man who’s not afraid to go above and beyond the call of duty or venture into a dark crawl space. It’s our own Connor Finnegan!”

The room broke out in applause, and Connor sat frozen in his seat.

“Get up, honey.” Maureen gave her son a little nudge.

Connor stood and straightened his jacket then bolted toward the stage. He shook the mayor’s hand as Greenfield passed him the award and directed him toward the podium.

“I figured I had no chance of winning this, so I haven’t actually prepared anything,” Connor said, having to stoop to reach the microphone. “But thank you to the judges and everyone who’s called in when their dishwasher’s on the fritz. Thanks to the team in the office, which is really just Sam Bryant. He keeps the wheels from fallingoff. And a huge thanks to my parents for being here tonight. You all know my dad, Ian. He built this business from the ground up, and I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him.”

The room once again filled with applause, followed by a couple of wolf whistles. On his way back to his seat, a woman at the next table caught Connor’s arm and gave him a sly wink. “Love the photos.”

“Ah,” Connor said, his cheeks reddening. His mom leaned in for a hug, and Connor set the award down on the table. On stage, the mayor announced that they’d be taking a ten-minute intermission before awarding the next category.

Sam met Connor’s gaze and mouthed, “Congrats.”

Connor shook his head, bemused.

“What photos?” Ian Finnegan asked from the end of the table.

“Oh, you haven’t seen them?” Sam’s mom gushed, pulling out her phone and tapping through to the app.

“Mom,” Sam said quickly. “We don’t have to—”

“On the company’s Instagram,” she continued, oblivious, and leaned over to show her phone to Ian seated beside her. “They’ve certainly been popular.”

Ian’s eyes widened as he swiped across the screen. Sam bit his lip, looking anywhere but at Connor.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Ian asked finally.

“Is what, Dad?” Connor’s voice was leaden.

“You hamming it up to drive the girls wild. You think that’s what gets solid repeat business? No, that’s taking this family’s good name and dragging it through the mud. But that’s nothing new to you, is it, Connor?”

Connor remained silent. Beside him, Connor’s mom tugged at her paper napkin, tearing off piece after piece.

“Mr. Finnegan, it was my idea,” Sam said quietly. “I posted the photos. I thought it might be a fresh way to generate interest.”

“By slapping a pretty face on the company I built from nothing? All you’ve done is cheapen our reputation.”

“I am the face of the business, Dad,” Connor shot back. “You haven’t worked there for over a year.”

“And just look what’s happened,” Ian growled, red spots of fury appearing on his forehead. “You hand over the reins to this fancy-looking fruit.”

Sam sucked in a mouthful of air and tried to keep his face from betraying him. Connor looked at Sam, stricken. It hurt like it had all those years ago, walking the halls at school, walking the streets of this town—a joke, a freak, an outsider.

Connor turned to his father, his expression dark with anger. “Dad, you owe Sam an apology.”

Ian pushed his wheelchair back from the table. “I don’t need to sit around and take this.”

“Dad,” Connor repeated, his voice pitching into a plea.