Page 39 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
She fled to the ballroom before the excruciating small talk could continue. The tree they’d decorated together glowed in the morning light, a beautiful reminder of his hand on her face, his thumb on her jaw, the way he’d said her name...
No. Not thinking about it.
She threw herself into measuring the orchestra stage placement, losing count twice because her brain was useless. She was on her third attempt when she heard voices from the lobby. One was Meena’s. The other was unfamiliar—smooth, polished, expensively trained.
Felicity moved to the ballroom doorway and looked out.
A woman stood near the entrance with Meena. Petite, perfectly assembled in a camel coat and black leather boots. Sleek dark bob. Everything about her screamed expensive, curated, successful.
And she was looking at the Christmas decorations with polite interest masking judgment.
“The transformation is certainly... bold,” the woman said to Meena. “Very different from the typical Sterling-Midland aesthetic.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Meena said. “Hometown Heart is about authentic community engagement.”
“Of course.” The agreement didn’t quite ring true to her tone.
Grant emerged from his office, his body language shifting—stiffer, more guarded.
“Victoria,” he said. “You’re early.”
Victoria.
The name hit Felicity like cold water. This was her. The ex-girlfriend who’d given Grant an ultimatum, who’d called his father’s legacy “playing banker.” The woman Grant had loved.
“I’m always early. You know that.” Victoria’s smile was small and knowing. “I was hoping for the full tour.”
Meena’s smile tightened. “I was planning to?—”
“I’d prefer Grant,” Victoria interrupted smoothly. “For old times’ sake.”
Grant hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”
Felicity shrank back into the ballroom doorway as Grant led Victoria through the lobby.
“The tree was donated by a local farm,” Grant explained. “Ms. Adams coordinated the delivery.”
“Ms. Adams. The decorator?” Victoria’s gaze swept the tree. “She certainly has... enthusiasm.”
The word landed like a carefully placed knife—complimentary on the surface, cutting underneath.
They moved to the auction display. Felicity lost visual contact but could still hear their voices.
“Is that a stuffed squirrel?”
“Taxidermy. A local donation. Ms. Adams felt it would be a conversation starter.”
“I’m sure it will be. Though perhaps not the kind of conversation one typically wants at a professional fundraising event.”
Felicity’s face burned. She should leave, go back to work, absolutely not eavesdrop.
She stayed rooted to the spot.
“The ballroom is this way,” Grant said. Felicity pressed herself against the wall behind the door as they entered.
“Oh my,” Victoria said, genuine surprise in her voice. “Grant. This is actually quite something.”
Felicity risked a glance. Victoria stood in the center of the ballroom, taking in the sealed floors, the chandeliers, the decorated tree. For a moment, her mask slipped into impressed admiration.
