Page 55 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
Jade looked skeptical but didn’t push. “Well, for what it’s worth, the ballroom looks like a fairy tale. You’re a genius.”
“We should get out there,” Felicity said, smoothing her skirt. “The guests are probably arriving.”
They walked back to the ballroom together, Jade’s hand finding hers and squeezing once before they separated. The moment Felicity stepped through the doors, her breath caught.
It was perfect.
The ballroom glowed with warm golden light from hundreds of carefully placed candles and string lights. The chandeliers, wrapped in fairy lights, sparkled overhead. White silk drapes softened the tall windows, and the tables were dressed in crisp linens with silver and evergreen centerpieces that made the whole room smell like a winter forest. The stage was framed with pine boughs and white hydrangeas, and in the corner, the auction tables displayed their wares under elegant spotlights.
I did this,she thought.Whatever happens tonight, I did this.
“Felicity!” Meena materialized at her elbow, and Felicity actually gasped.
Meena Patel had transformed. Gone was the corporate warrior in her suits and clipboard armor. Tonight she wore a stunning midnight blue gown with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that moved like water. Her dark hair was down in glossy waves, and her makeup was dramatic—smoky eyes and deep red lips. She looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
And she was still carrying her clipboard, because of course she was.
“You look incredible,” Felicity said, momentarily forgetting her own heartache.
“Thank you! I decided if I’m going to orchestrate a small-town gala, I might as well look like I’m enjoying it.” Meena did a little spin, her skirt flaring. “Your ballroom isperfection, by the way. Corporate is going to lose their minds when they see the photos.”
“Speaking of photos,” Felicity said, “where’s our photographer?”
“Already here, already shooting. I’ve got him documenting everything.” Meena checked something off on her clipboard. “Caterers are set, bar is stocked, and the choirs have been separated into different warm-up rooms so they can’t start a turf war before the actual performance.”
“You’re terrifyingly efficient.”
“I know.” Meena beamed. “Oh! The mayor just arrived, and he brought his wife, who is apparently wearing a gown made entirely of—I’m not kidding—jingle bells. You can hear her on the other side of town.”
As if on cue, a distant tinkling sound echoed from the lobby, followed by Mayor Whitcomb’s booming laugh.
Felicity felt a hysterical giggle building in her chest. This was going to be a night to remember, for better or worse.
The guests began to arrive in earnest, and Felicity slipped into her role as gracious host, greeting people at the entrance, directing them to the coat check (a makeshift station they’d set up in a side office), and accepting compliments with a smile that she hoped looked genuine.
Ida Murray and Ruth Dyer arrived together, and Felicity’s jaw dropped.
Ida wore a floor-length burgundy gown with a fur stole that looked like it had survived several decades and possibly a small war. Her white hair was styled in an elaborate updo decorated with what appeared to be actual holly sprigs. She looked like a Christmas tree topper come to life.
Ruth, by contrast, was demure in pale blue lace with her signature pearls. But she’d clearly let Ida influence her accessories—her clutch purse had tiny silver bells attached that jingled softly when she moved.
“Felicity, dear!” Ida announced, her voice carrying across the lobby. “You’ve outdone yourself. This place looks like something out of a movie. A classy movie, not one of those trashy holiday romances where everyone falls in love in a week.”
“Thank you, Ida,” Felicity said, trying not to laugh.
“Although,” Ida continued, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “I wouldn’t be opposed to some falling in love tonight. Romance is good for the digestion. Ruth, back me up here.”
“Oh, Ida, leave the girl alone,” Ruth said, but she was smiling. She leaned in conspiratorially to Felicity. “You do look lovely, though. That dress is a stunner.”
“Thank you,” Felicity said, genuinely touched.
“That handsome bank manager better have his head examined if he doesn’t tell you so,” Ida declared loudly. Severalnearby guests turned to look. “A woman in a dress like that deserves to be admired, I always say.”
Felicity felt her cheeks heat. “I should go check on the caterers?—“
“Oh no you don’t,” Ida said, catching her arm. “You’re going to stand right here and greet your guests like the professional event coordinator you are. And if Mr. Whitaker has half a brain, he’ll—oh, speak of the devil.”
Felicity’s heart stopped.
