Page 43 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
“It doesn’t matter if he thinks?—”
“It matters that you know your worth. Victoria called your work childish because she doesn’t understand the difference between childish and joyful. She’s the kind of person who thinks spreadsheets are more valuable than smiles.” Jade squeezed her hand. “And Grant stayed silent because he’s scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared of what it means if he admits you’re right. That his way—all that control and order—isn’t the only way. That joy and sparkle have value.” Jade’s expression softened. “But his fear is his problem, not yours. You cannot let his cowardice determine your worth.”
“Even if you’re right, I still have to work with him for six more days. I still have to pull off this gala.” Felicity’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And if I don’t, I lose everything.”
“Then stop being afraid,” Jade said. “I know what it’s like to be one bad month from losing everything. When Cecily tried to destroy my business, you know what saved me? I stopped trying to be what I thought people wanted and started owning whatmade me different. I stopped apologizing for being small and personal instead of corporate and polished.”
She leaned forward, her eyes fierce. “Your sparkle isn’t a liability. It’s your strength. Victoria is threatened by it because she doesn’t have it. Mark couldn’t handle it because he was boring. And Grant...” She paused. “Grant almost kissed you last night because he sees it. He’s just too scared to admit it out loud.”
“That doesn’t help me right now.”
“No. But this does: you’re going to walk back into that bank tomorrow and stop trying to prove you’re serious enough for them. You’re going to finish this gala your way—with all the joy and sparkle and magic you’ve got—and you’re going to make it so spectacular that no one can dismiss it.”
Before Felicity could respond, someone knocked sharply on the glass door. Ida Murray and Ruth Dyer stood outside, peering in through the window, both bundled against the cold.
Jade sighed and went to unlock the door.
“Jade, dear!” Ida bustled in on a gust of snow. “We saw the lights still on. Ruth needs an emergency cranberry-orange scone, and the night is dark and full of terrors without proper baked goods.”
They stopped short, taking in Felicity’s tear-streaked face and the half-empty cocoa mug.
“Oh dear,” Ruth said softly. “Are we interrupting?”
“Not at all,” Felicity said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired. Long day.”
Ida’s sharp eyes swept from Felicity’s face to the cocoa mug and back again. “Everything alright with the bank project, dear? We saw a very fancy woman in a black coat with Grant this afternoon. Looked quite serious.”
Of course they had.
“Everything’s fine,” Felicity lied. “Just pressure. The gala has to be perfect.”
“Well,” Ida said, dropping her voice to a stage whisper, “I heard from Susan at the post office that this gala is make-or-break for the bank. Corporate might pull the plug on the whole thing if it’s not a success.”
Felicity’s stomach dropped. The stakes were even higher than she’d thought.
“It’s my last chance too,” she heard herself say. “If this doesn’t work, I’m done.”
Ida and Ruth exchanged one of their loaded looks.
“Done?” Ida echoed, her eyes widening.
Jade shot them a look sharp enough to cut glass. “She means she’s done working for the night. Very tired.” She moved briskly toward the pastry case. “One cranberry-orange scone, coming right up. On the house.”
“You just let us know if you need anything, dear,” Ida said, patting Felicity’s arm. “The whole town is rooting for you.”
After they left—scone in hand, already whispering—Felicity dropped her head into her hands.
“By morning, the entire town will know I’m on the verge of collapse and that Christmas rests on my shoulders.”
“They’re not wrong though,” Jade said calmly.
Felicity looked up, startled. “You think I’m going to ruin Christmas?”
“No. I think the Christmas spirit does rest on your shoulders. Because you’re the one who has it. You’re the one who makes people smile.” Jade’s voice was fierce. “Stop seeing yourself through their eyes. Victoria doesn’t matter. Grant’s silence doesn’t matter. What matters is that you finish this your way.”
