Page 26 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

I need to dig deeper.

I’d prefer to stay at my home desk all day long, but I have to make my way to The Garland Rose. My meeting with Lawrence Campbell, a seasoned financier from my trusted network, is essential.

He might invest.

If he bites, we might just be able to salvage this place or at least buy enough time to figure everything out.

In fact, the longer I spend sitting across from him, the more convinced I become that he will.

I’m all business, leaning over the table, the numbers spread out before us. I’m used to this. Calculating, strategizing, andpresenting. I’ve got everything in hand: the balance sheets, the projected growth, the potential upside.

I’ve practiced this pitch in my head a hundred times, and it’s just the kind of thing that should secure the deal.

But of course, the universe has other plans.

The door swings open without warning, and in walks Sunny.

She doesn’t knock. Doesn’t check to see if we’re in a meeting. She barges in, as chaotic and unapologetic as always. And, naturally, she’s covered in garland bits.

I glance at Lawrence, whose eyebrows shoot up, clearly stunned by the sight. Sunny doesn’t seem to notice the disruption; she’s mid-rant about some last-minute idea for the hotel’s Christmas decorations.

Something about DIY wreaths and too much glitter.

Her face is flushed, her hair slightly frizzy from rushing around, and she’s got an armful of miscellaneous holiday supplies that I can’t quite make out.

“Ryder!” she says, her words carrying with all the enthusiasm of a toddler hopped up on sugar. “I need to ask you about the Santa photos we talked about last week. Are we going with the elf costume, or did you decide?—”

I cut her off quickly, leaning forward to catch her attention. “Sunny, this is a meeting.”

She blinks, unbothered, then looks at Lawrence.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize we had company.” She gives him a friendly, too-wide grin. “My name is Sunny Quinn, and I’m the owner.”

I feel the tension rise in my chest. This isn’t the time. But it’s too late. Lawrence is looking at her as if she’s a circus act, he wasn’t prepared to witness.

I can almost feel the judgment rolling off him as he eyes Sunny up and down. Still standing there, garland in hand, completely unaware that she’s not helping the situation.

“Sunny…” I start, forcing the calm I’m desperately trying to hold onto. “This is Lawrence Campbell.”

“What do you think, Lawrence? We should have holiday decorations everywhere, right? You know, nothing too gaudy, but maybe a little taste of kitsch. What do you think?”

Lawrence is staring at her with nothing but concern in his eyes.

“I… I’m not sure I follow,” he says.

I can feel my patience stretching thin. “Sunny?—”

“Ryder!” She rolls her eyes in an over-the-top, dramatic fashion. “I know you hate Christmas, which is why I’m not asking you. I’m asking your friend.”

I open my mouth to apologize, but Lawrence, bless him, already appears to be regretting every decision that brought him here. The investment I’d hoped for feels further out of reach.

“Never mind,” Sunny finally declares, backing off. Her eyes widen as if she’s finally caught on to this being something important. “I’ll leave you to your meeting. I didn’t mean to interrupt?—”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I mutter, already too frustrated to mask the bite in my tone.

When the door closes behind her, I let out a deep breath.

“Whatwasthat?” Lawrence says after a beat, clearly still stunned.