Page 4 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
“The electrical system would need updating,” he said, grasping for practical objections. “The floor needs refinishing. The windows haven’t been cleaned for years. And the heating...” He trailed off as he noticed his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
“Details!” Meena waved dismissively. “This is why we’re bringing in a professional. Someone who can see past the current state to the potential underneath.”
“A professional.” Grant seized on this like a life preserver. Perhaps corporate had hired a sensible event coordinator,someone who understood the difference between elegant celebration and circus tent.
"Local talent, actually. I did my research." Meena pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like photos. "Her work is vibrant, accessible, joyful—exactly the image we want. She's done Brice Matthews' tree farm, some residential homes around town. Very community- focused." She looked up at him with a knowing smile.
Joyful. The word made Grants eye twitch.
"Before you ask—yes, I checked her out while visiting my grandfather at Pine Ridge Manor. Saw her work at the community center. You need someone who understands this town, Grant. Not some corporate event planner from the city."
Grant's expression softened slightly. "How is he? Your grandfather?"
“Pretty good. Has a hard time getting around.” Meena's corporate polish slipped for just a moment, revealing something more vulnerable.
“He used to be a very active person, now he needs a walker and help getting dressed, but..." She shrugged, her smile turning wistful. "He's happy. That's what matters."
She straightened, pulling her professional mask back into place, but her voice remained warm. "He actually mentioned your grandfather, you know. Said Thomas Whitaker once gave him a loan when he was in need. Saved his business."
Grant said nothing, but something softened in his heart.
"The point is," Meena continued, tapping her phone, "people in this town remember kindness. They remember community. That's what your grand father built. That's what this decorator understands. You need someone who gets that, Grant. Not some corporate event planner from the city who'll turn this place into something generic that could be anywhere."
“The Winter Gala is a significant undertaking,” he said carefully. “Perhaps someone with more... corporate experience...”
“Grant, trust me. This woman is exactly what this bank needs. She’s going to transform this place.” Meena’s smile had a predatory edge. “I’ve arranged for her to meet with you tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock sharp.”
Grant opened his mouth to protest again, but Meena cut him off.
"And Grant? This decorating project and the gala—they're very important. Especially if you want Sterling-Midland to keep this branch open." Her voice took on a sharper edge, though her eyes held genuine concern. "Corporate is looking closely at small towns in their consolidation efforts. We need to prove this location is worth maintaining."
She paused, and her voice softened. "I'm not just here as the corporate hatchet woman. I pushed to come here—to help you. My grandfather's here, and I... I'd hate to see this town lose its bank. But you have to meet me halfway. You have to let something change."
The words hit Grant like ice water. Consolidation. The polite corporate term for shuttering branches and destroying communities. He couldn’t be the Whitaker who lost the bank.
Something in her tone suggested this was not a request.
“Of course. And this decorator is...?”
“Felicity Adams. She runs a company called…,” Meena checked her phone. “Sparkle & Spruce.”
Grant stared at her. “Sparkle & Spruce.”
“I know, isn’t it charming? Very... festive.”
Sparkle. The word landed in Grant’s consciousness like a warning bell. Anyone who named their business “Sparkle & Spruce” was exactly the kind of person who would see this dusty,dignified event space and envision something involving glitter cannons and motorized reindeer.
“I’ve never heard of her,” he said weakly.
“Well, you will tomorrow!” Meena snapped a few photos of the event space, her enthusiasm undimmed by the obvious challenges. “I have complete faith that you two will work beautifully together. Your stability, her creativity. Order and chaos in perfect harmony.”
Order and chaos. Grant was beginning to suspect that Meena had never actually witnessed what happened when those two forces collided.
“Nine o’clock,” he repeated, already dreading tomorrow morning.
“Nine o’clock,” she confirmed, heading for the door. “And Grant? Make this magical. Sterling-Midland is counting on you.”
She left him standing in the dusty event space, surrounded by the ghosts of galas past and the looming specter of corporate expectations. Somewhere in Frost Pine Ridge, a woman named Felicity Adams was probably already planning to assault his bank with whatever passed for “sparkle” in her world.
