Page 16 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
“I’ll help,” Jade added just as quickly. She looked at Felicity with fierce loyalty. “You decorated my entire bakery for free. You spent three days making it look like a gingerbread house exploded in the best possible way. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me?—”
“Friends don’t let friends scrub historic ballrooms alone,” Jade interrupted. “I’m helping. End of discussion.”
“Bottom line,” Leo said, turning to Grant. “About four thousand total for equipment rental and materials. Labor’s just sweat equity.”
Four thousand. Grant had been bracing for Leo to say fifteen, maybe twenty thousand. Four thousand was... nothing. A rounding error in the contractor budget.
“That’s within the contractor budget,” he heard himself say. “Meena authorized fifteen thousand for venue preparation. Four thousand is... reasonable.”
Felicity stared at him, her blue eyes wide with shock and hope. “Seriously?”
“Corporate allocated the funds,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral even as relief flooded through him. “It would be irresponsible not to use them if there’s a viable solution.”
A viable solution. He had a viable solution. The ballroom could actually be used. His grandfather’s ballroom could host a gala again.
The relief was immediately followed by a sharp spike of anxiety. Strangers would be in here. Unsupervised. Working on the floors, touching the chandeliers.
“We’ll need access to the space,” Leo was saying. “Starting this weekend if you want the heaters running early next week.”
“After hours access,” Felicity added quickly. “I still have the lobby to decorate, so I’ll be working double-time.”
Absolutely not.
“I’m not providing unsupervised access to the bank building,” Grant said, his voice firmer than he’d intended.
Leo walked toward the far wall, apparently unbothered by Grant’s refusal. “There’s an exterior door here. Leads directly outside, right?” He tested the handle. “Used to be the loading entrance for events.”
Grant had forgotten about that door. It had been locked for decades.
“If that door’s functional and you give her a key,” Leo continued, examining the frame, “she can access the ballroom without entering the main bank. You keep the interior door to the bank locked from your side. She works in here, you’ve got security separation.”
He looked back at Grant with those steady, warm brown eyes. “Problem solved.”
Grant looked at the exterior door, then at Felicity, then at the door again.
A key. He would be giving Felicity Adams—a woman who had contaminated his vault with glitter forty-eight hours ago—a key to his grandfather’s ballroom.
But Leo’s solution was sound. She wouldn’t have access to the main bank. Just this space. And if he didn’t give her access, the project failed. And if the project failed, Meena’s corporate oversight would intensify. And the branch might close.
He was trapped by his own logic.
“I’ll have a locksmith replace the lock by Friday,” he said, the words tasting like defeat and something else he couldn’t quite name. “You’ll have a key by Saturday morning.”
“Thank you,” Felicity said, and her voice was so genuinely grateful, so full of relief, that Grant felt an unexpected warmth.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said quickly, needing to reestablish some distance. “You still have to actually pull this off.”
Leo gathered his tools—flashlight, voltage tester, tape measure — all disappearing back into various pockets with practiced efficiency. “I’ll email you a quote tonight. Equipment can be delivered Friday if you approve it tomorrow morning. You’ll want the heaters running by this weekend.”
He looked at Felicity. “This is a big job. You sure you’re ready for it?”
Felicity lifted her chin, and Grant saw the same determined fire he’d seen when she’d pitched her vision that morning. “I’m ready.”
Leo nodded once, satisfied. “Then you’ll be fine.” He turned to Grant. “I’ll check that exterior door from the outside before I leave. Make sure the frame’s solid for the new lock.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Grant said.
