Page 13 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
Her voice softened.
“This room has history. It has dignity. Your grandfather hosted galas here, Grant. We’re not just decorating a space—we’re bringing it back to life. We’re honoring what it was and showing what it can be again.”
Silence fell in the dusty ballroom.
Meena was staring at Felicity with an expression of pure, delighted satisfaction. “That,” she said, “is exactly what I wanted to hear. That’s the story. That’s the brand.” She turned to Grant. “Do you see? This is why I hired her.”
Grant was looking at Felicity with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Not hostility. Not dismissal. Something closer to... surprise.
“The timeline is extremely tight,” he said, but his voice had lost some of its edge.
“Which is why we start immediately,” Meena said briskly. She checked her watch. “Felicity, I need you to get your engineer in here today for an assessment. Grant, I need you to have the contractor budget ready to approve as soon as we have numbers. We have three weeks. It’s tight, but it’s doable.”
She looked between them.
“This is going to be the flagship event for the Hometown Heart campaign. Corporate is watching. The board is watching. Local media will be covering it. This needs to be perfect—not structurally perfect,” she added, glancing at Grant, “but emotionally perfect. It needs to make people feel something.”
She smiled at Felicity.
“Which is exactly what you do best. So.” She clapped her hands together once, a decisive sound that echoed in the empty space. “Let’s make some magic happen. I need updates by end of day. Both of you.”
She pulled out her phone, scrolling through notes. “Oh, and we’ll need space for a silent auction. Corporate loves that fundraiser angle—very classy, very community engagement. I’m reaching out to local businesses for donations this week. High-end items, gift certificates, experiences. You’ll just need to create an elegant display area.”
She glanced around the ballroom. “Maybe along the west wall? And we’ll need bid sheets, a checkout table, the whole setup.”
Grant’s jaw tightened. “That’s a significant additional logistical component.”
“It’s a standard feature of any serious gala,” Meena said breezily. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle soliciting the donations. You two just handle making it look amazing.” She made a note on her phone. “I’ll send you the list of confirmed items as they come in. Should have most of it finalized two weeks out.”
She was already walking toward the doors, already mentally on to her next meeting.
“Oh, and Felicity?” She paused at the threshold. “Trust your instincts. They’re good.”
And then she was gone, her heels clicking away down the corridor, leaving Grant and Felicity standing in the frozen ballroom.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Grant exhaled slowly. “You realize what you’ve just committed to.”
“A complete restoration of a historic ballroom in fourteen days with temporary systems and a shoestring budget as well as decorating the bank lobby?” Felicity’s voice was light, but her hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m aware.”
“If Leo can’t make this work?—”
“Then I’ll tell Meena we need to scale back. But I think he can.” She pulled out her phone. “I need to call him. Now.”
Grant nodded. “I’ll pull the building schematics. He’ll need to see the existing systems before he can propose solutions.”
It was the most constructive thing he’d said to her all morning.
Felicity looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something she hadn’t expected: he was nervous. Not about her failing. About the room. About his father’s legacy space being used again.
“We’ll be careful with it,” she said softly. “I promise.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “I know you will.”
They stood there for another moment, the weight of the task settling over them both.
Then Felicity turned and walked toward the doors, already dialing Leo’s number.
