Page 27 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
She looked back at Grant, who was still processing. “You don’t have to be there, you know. Just give me the key to the exterior ballroom door. We’ll lock up when we’re done.”
He considered this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then something shifted—that calculating look she was learning to recognize.
“People messing around in the bank ballroom without my supervision?” He shook his head slowly. “No. I think I’ll be there.”
“You don’t have other plans?”
“On a Friday night?” His tone was dry. “Ms. Adams, I’m a bank manager in a town of three thousand people. My evening plans typically involve reviewing the week’s transaction reports and perhaps a glass of scotch if it’s been particularly eventful.”
“Well,” Felicity said, tucking her phone away, “tonight you get to trade scotch for industrial cleaning solution. Much more exciting.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“I’ll order pizza.”
He looked at the half-decorated lobby, then at her determined face, then sighed—a long, slow exhale that seemed to carry the weight of sixteen years of careful control slowly slipping through his fingers.
“Fine. But I’m documenting the entire process. For insurance purposes.”
“Of course you are,” Felicity said, trying not to smile.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By six-thirty, Felicity and Jade were on their hands and knees in the ballroom, armed with industrial-strength cleaning solution and scrub brushes usually reserved for garage floors. Jade wore old jeans, and a faded sweatshirt, Felicity in leggings and an oversized flannel. They looked like they were about to demo a house, not save a gala.
“I forgot how gross old buildings get,” Jade said, attacking a stubborn stain.
“Think of it as vintage patina,” Felicity offered.
“I’m thinking of it as a health code violation.”
Heavy boots echoed from the exterior door. Leo arrived with his equipment—industrial heaters on dollies, work lights, tools that would transform the frozen ballroom into something habitable.
Grant appeared moments later, having changed into dark jeans and a gray button-down with rolled sleeves. He carried his clipboard.
“Mr. Carter,” Grant said to Leo, who was testing an outlet. “I’d like to understand the installation process. For documentation.”
Leo didn’t look up. “Just Leo, please. You want to follow me around with that clipboard, be my guest.”
“I prefer ‘observe and verify.’”
Leo just grunted and moved to the next outlet, Grant trailing after him.
Felicity and Jade exchanged a glance, trying not to smile.
They’d been working for about twenty minutes when soft footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Meena appeared in the doorway wearing designer leggings with mesh panels, a fitted tank top, gleaming white sneakers. Her hair was in a sleek ponytail, and she carried unopened cleaning gloves.
Felicity and Jade both froze, staring.
“Room for one more?” Meena asked brightly.
“Meena?” Felicity scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping.” Meena surveyed the dusty space. “I just tucked my grandfather into bed at Pine Ridge Manor, and what else is there to do in this one-reindeer town on a Friday night?” She pulled on the gloves with a snap. “Besides, I’m as invested in this gala’s success as everyone else. Maybe more. And I know you could use an extra pair of hands.”
Jade glanced at Felicity with raised eyebrows. They’d been expecting corporate Meena—clipboard-wielding, stay-clean-and-delegate Meena.
