Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The bell over the door of Sugar Pine Sweets gave a tired little jingle.
The night outside was black and cold, with a sharp wind that promised to turn the flurries into serious, sticking snow.
Inside, the bakery was a haven of warmth and light, smelling of cinnamon, cooling bread, and Jade’s unwavering sanity. It smelled like home.
Jade was behind the counter, wiping it down for the last time, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.
The “CLOSED” sign was flipped, but she’d left the door unlocked—she’d gotten Fee’s text and knew she was coming.
She looked up as Felicity entered, her end-of-day smile faltering when she saw her friend’s face.
“Okay,” Jade said, immediately abandoning the counter and rounding it to pull Felicity into a hug. “Tell me everything.”
Felicity let herself be held for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and sugar that clung to Jade’s apron. Then she pulled back and slumped onto one of the counter stools.
“Last night, Grant and I almost kissed.”
Jade’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“We were decorating the ballroom tree. Just the two of us. It was late, and it was quiet, and the lights were so beautiful, and he...” Felicity’s voice caught.
“He looked at me like I mattered, Jade. He smiled—a real smile, not the polite bank manager smile—and he touched my face and we were this close.” She held up her thumb and finger an inch apart.
“And then Ida and Ruth burst in with thermoses of cocoa and ruined everything.”
“Oh, my.” Jade was already moving to the espresso machine, preparing emergency cocoa with the urgency of a trauma surgeon. “Okay. Okay. That’s... that’s huge. And then what happened?”
“Then today I met his ex-girlfriend.”
Jade froze mid-scoop. “His what?”
“Victoria. She showed up at the bank this morning to ‘tour the project.’ She’s everything you’d imagine—polished, perfect, probably alphabetizes her spice rack. She looked at everything I’ve done and called it childish.”
The last word came out small and broken.
Jade abandoned the cocoa preparation and came to sit on the stool next to Felicity, giving her full attention. “She said what?”
“‘It’s all a bit childish, isn’t it? In a sweet way, of course.’” Felicity’s voice was bitter. “It’s the same thing Mark said when he broke up with me. That all my sparkle was ‘a little childish.’ That I was too much.”
“Mark was an idiot.”
“Maybe he was right, though. Maybe they’re both right.
” Felicity felt tears prick her eyes. “Because it gets worse. I overheard them talking. Grant and Victoria. She was in the ballroom—our ballroom, where we decorated the tree together—and she was criticizing everything. Calling it amateur. Saying I didn’t have professional expertise. ”
“And what did Grant say?”
Felicity’s voice cracked. “He said the project had been ‘challenging.’ That he’d been ‘managing expectations.’ Like I’m some problem he’s been trying to contain this whole time.”
“Fee—”
“He didn’t defend me, Jade. Not once. Victoria kept going on about how it was all too much, too emotional, not professional enough.
And he just... agreed. Said maybe I wasn’t ready for something this serious.
” The tears finally spilled over. “Last night he was about to kiss me. Today he stood there while his perfect ex-girlfriend confirmed every insecurity I’ve ever had about myself. ”
Jade’s expression shifted from sympathetic to furious. “That absolute—”
“And then she said it to my face. Right there in the lobby, while Grant just stood there. Called everything childish while he said nothing.” Felicity wiped her eyes angrily.
“I’ve been working myself to death for two weeks.
Staying until midnight, coming in at dawn, and he thinks I’m not professional enough. He thinks I’m not serious enough.”
She pulled out her wallet and opened it, showing Jade the pitiful contents. “You know what’s really pathetic? I have thirty-seven dollars to my name. This whole business is held together with craft glue and hope. My landlord is getting less jovial with every phone call about rent.”
She gestured vaguely at her coat. “Last month I accepted a hand-knitted scarf as payment for a five-hundred-dollar job because I was too afraid to demand actual money. Because I’m afraid people will say no.
Afraid they’ll confirm what Mark said, what Victoria said, what Grant apparently thinks—that I’m just playing at being professional. ”
Jade was quiet for a long moment, just looking at her. Then she stood, finished making the cocoa, and set a huge mug in front of Felicity, piled high with whipped cream.
“Drink,” she ordered. “And then listen to me.”
Felicity took a sip. The cocoa was perfect—rich and sweet and warm.
“Grant Whitaker is an idiot,” Jade said flatly. “A brilliant, emotionally constipated idiot who can calculate risk assessments in his sleep but apparently can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
“But—”
“No, listen.” Jade’s voice was firm. “I’ve been in that bank. I’ve seen what you’ve done. You took a cold, sterile building that felt like a mausoleum and made it feel like a home. You made people excited about going to a bank, Fee. Do you know how impossible that is?”
“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 what made 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. ”
Something shifted in Felicity’s chest. Not hope exactly, but something harder. Sharper. Determination.
“Six days,” she said quietly.
“Six days to prove them all wrong.”
Felicity stood, wrapping her coat tight. “I’m going to make this gala so spectacular that no one—not Victoria, not corporate, not anyone—can call it childish.”
“That’s my girl.”
“And after it’s over, after I get my paycheck, I’m going to start charging what I’m worth. No more barter. No more accepting scraps because I’m afraid to ask for real money.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Felicity headed for the door, then looked back. “Thank you. For the cocoa. For everything.”
“That’s what best friends are for. Now go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow you walk into that bank like you own the place.”
As Felicity stepped out into the cold, snowy night, she felt different. The hurt was still there—Grant’s silence, Victoria’s condescension, the almost-kiss that now felt like a cruel joke. But it was fuel now instead of weight.
If they thought her sparkle was childish, she’d show them exactly how powerful it could be.
Six days until the gala.
Time to prove them all wrong.