Page 15 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
College, probably. Before his father died. Before the weight of the Whitaker name had settled on his shoulders like concrete.
Leo said nothing for a long moment. He simply walked into the center of the room, his gaze moving methodically across the space. He pulled a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and examined the chandeliers without comment. Then he crouched to inspect the floorboards, running his hand over the wood with surprising gentleness.
Grant found himself watching with reluctant respect. Leo moved with the economy of someone who understood how things worked—not just mechanically, but structurally. He wasn’t performing an assessment, he was having a conversation with the building.
Jade moved closer to Felicity, hugging herself against the cold. “Your breath is fogging,” she whispered.
“Heating failed fifteen years ago,” Grant supplied, watching Leo work.
Leo stood and walked to the far wall. “Original radiators?”
“Yes.”
“Still connected to the main system?”
Grant paused, genuinely uncertain. “I... believe so. They were never removed, just shut off when the boiler failed.”
Leo nodded and continued his methodical examination. He tested the windows, measured the frames with a tape measure he’d produced from somewhere, and took notes in a small pad. Every movement was economical, purposeful.
When Leo walked to the electrical panel near the stage and pulled out a voltage tester, Grant felt a flicker of surprise. A reindeer farmer with a voltage tester. This town continued to defy his expectations.
“Is he always this quiet?” Jade whispered to Felicity.
“He’s thinking,” Felicity whispered back. “That’s a good sign.”
Finally, Leo closed the electrical panel and turned to face them. His expression was thoughtful but not grim.
“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what I see.”
Grant braced himself for the verdict: impossible, not feasible, too expensive, too risky.
But Leo walked to the center of the room and began to speak with quiet confidence.
“Heating: The boiler’s done, and replacing it isn’t happening in your timeline. But those radiators are still connected—I can see the pipes. What you need are industrial space heaters. The kind construction crews use in winter. They’ll get this space warm enough.”
Grant blinked. That was... actually a reasonable solution.
Leo continued, outlining costs, timelines, specifications. “You’ll want to start heating the space about a week before the event. Not just for comfort—you need to dry out the moisture that’s built up in here. Get the wood acclimated. Run them continuously.”
Every answer was practical, measured, achievable. When he explained that the electrical system could handle low-wattage LEDs, Grant felt his skepticism warring with reluctant relief.
“What’s your lighting plan?” Leo asked Felicity.
“Thousands of white fairy lights. Wrapped around the chandeliers, strung from the ceiling beams. Ice-blue battery-powered uplights along the walls.”
Leo nodded. “That’ll work. Fairy lights barely draw anything. Battery uplights don’t touch your electrical at all. You’re well within safe limits.”
Grant found himself reassessing. Not the ballroom—he’d always known the bones were good. But Felicity. She hadn’tmade just a wild promise to Meena. She’d actually thought this through. She’d brought in someone who knew what he was doing. She had a real plan.
When Leo crouched to examine the floor—running his hand over the wood, tapping it with his knuckles, testing for give—Grant watched with growing respect. This wasn’t just a handyman doing a favor. Leo knew what he was looking at.
“Floor’s solid,” Leo said, standing. “Original hardwood, probably oak. No rot, no major damage. You don’t need refinishing—you need a deep clean and a seal coat.”
He explained about industrial buffers and fast-drying sealant, about floor drains and drying times. Everything he said made sense. Everything was achievable.
“You’ll need at least three or four people for the cleaning,” Leo said. “Figure two full days minimum.”
“I’ll do it,” Felicity said immediately.
