“Right,” Felicity said, scrambling to her feet and trying to ignore the flush she could feel creeping up her neck. “Before lunch. Definitely.”
By early afternoon, the lobby was starting to look like something out of a snow globe. The garlands swooped along the walls, dotted with small white lights that twinkled like capturedstars. The main support column was wrapped in a spiral of gold ribbon and more lights, creating a glowing centerpiece. The teller counter looked elegant rather than institutional, softened by greenery and the warm glow of carefully placed candles (battery-operated, because Grant had drawn a line at open flames near financial documents).
Felicity stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips, surveying their work. Grant stood beside her, his posture as impeccable as ever, but she thought she detected a hint of satisfaction in the set of his shoulders.
“It’s... not terrible,” he said finally.
She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “High praise from the man who once cited municipal code about my fairy lights.”
“That was a safety concern. The string lights were a fire hazard.”
“They were battery-operated.”
“The batteries could have exploded.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I prefer ‘thorough.’”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You would.”
They stood there for another moment, not quite looking at each other, the air between them humming with something Felicity couldn’t quite name. It felt like the moment before a thunderstorm, when the atmosphere goes heavy and electric and full of potential.
From the bench, Ruth’s voice drifted over, gentle and pleased. “It looks beautiful, dear. Just lovely.”
Ida snorted. “Told you she knew what she was doing, Ruth. Girl’s got vision.”
Felicity felt a warm swell of pride. It wasn’t finished—not by a long shot. They still needed the tree, the final lighting touches, that was currently just a taped-off section of floor. But it was progress. Real, visible, undeniable progress.
She glanced at Grant and found him looking at the decorations with an expression she’d never seen before—something almost like wonder.
“Your father would be proud,” she said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Grant went very still. For a moment, she thought she’d overstepped, that he’d retreat behind his wall of professional courtesy and freeze her out. But then he took a slow breath and nodded, just once.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice low. “That... means more than you know.”
Before she could respond, the bell above the door jingled, and Felicity turned to see a familiar broad-shouldered figure filling the doorway.
Brice Matthews had arrived.
And behind him, barely visible through the glass, was the shadow of something very, very large.
“Got your tree,” Brice said, his deep voice carrying across the lobby.
Felicity’s heart leapt. Then sank. Then leapt again.
Because through the window, she could see the top of the most magnificent Douglas fir she’d ever laid eyes on. It was also without question much taller than the ten feet they’d agreed upon.
Grant had seen it too. His jaw tightened, his shoulders squared, and Felicity recognized the look of a man preparing for battle.
“Mr. Matthews,” Grant said, his voice calm but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass. “That tree appears to exceed our agreed-upon specifications.”
Brice shrugged, unbothered. “Best one on the lot. Real beaut.”
“It’s at least twelve feet tall.”
“Yep.”
