Page 12 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
She lifted her chin.
“I can make this work.”
Grant’s eyebrows rose. “Ms. Adams?—”
“Not by myself,” she said quickly, her mind already working through the problems. “But luckily I have a lot of contacts that can help at a moment’s notice.”
Meena’s face lit up. “I knew it. Tell me.”
Felicity walked toward the center of the room, her boots leaving tracks in the dust.
“Leo Carter. He owns the reindeer farm, but he’s also a great carpenter and handyman. He kept the elementary school running when the boiler died in the middle of February. He rebuilt the church organ when everyone said it was beyond repair. He’s rebuilding Sugar Pine Sweets.”
She gestured to the surrounding space.
“If anyone can figure out temporary heating and safe electrical loads for this space, it’s Leo. He understands old buildings. He knows how to work with what you have instead of requiring everything to be perfect.”
Grant opened his mouth, likely to object, but Meena cut him off.
“Temporary heating. I love it. What about the windows? The floor?”
Felicity walked to the windows, examining them more closely.
“The windows leak, but if we can get heating in here, we compensate. Heavy drapes—floor to ceiling white silk, maybe—to create insulation and add to the aesthetic. Weatherstripping. The cold becomes part of the atmosphere instead of a problem.”
She turned to look at the floor.
“The floor doesn’t need to be refinished to perfection. It needs to be clean and safe. We can rent industrial buffers, do a deep clean, one coat of sealant. People will be dancing—they won’t be analyzing the finish.”
“Ms. Adams, you’re talking about thousands of dollars in contractor fees, equipment rental—” Grant started.
“Which is why I have a contractor budget,” Meena interrupted. “That’s what it’s for, Grant. Use it.”
She walked over to Felicity, her excitement palpable.
“Paint me a picture. What do you see?”
Felicity took a breath. This was it. This was where she either sold her vision or lost the job.
She walked to the center of the ballroom and turned slowly, letting herself see not what was, but what could be.
“Imagine those chandeliers lit,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “Not with the original bulbs—we might need to rewire for that. But we could wrap them with thousands of tiny white lights, creating globes of light. More lights strung from the ceiling beams in swoops, like a canopy of stars.”
She gestured to the walls.
“Ice-blue uplighting along the perimeter, turning these cream walls into something ethereal. Like we’re inside a glacier, but warm.”
She walked toward the windows.
“These windows, dressed in white silk that puddles on the floor. Sheer panels underneath so the light can filter through, soft and diffused. At night, they’ll glow from the lights inside. The whole room will feel like it’s glowing from within.”
She turned back to them, her voice filling with genuine emotion.
“Round tables with white linens. Silver and crystal centerpieces—simple, elegant. White hydrangeas. Candlelight. And of course a tall Blue Spruce decorated in all white and silver with blue lighting.”
She looked at Meena, then at Grant.
“A White Winter Wonderland. Not cute. Not childish. Sophisticated. Timeless. Elegant.”
