Page 99 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

Marjorie grins. “Easy peasy. I’ll go and see who’s free to assist.”

She’s already off to rally the troops, and I’m left alone with the towering, crumbling grandeur of the ballroom.

The air feels heavy with memories. I don’t know if it’s the pressure from the event or the looming uncertainty about what happens to the Garland Rose after all of this.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s make this work.”

Marjorie strides back in, her arms full of cloth and twinkle lights. “I brought some navy velvet drapes and white fairy lights. Think they’ll work?”

She isn’t alone.

Behind her stands Dex, looking as cheerful as ever, Nolan, and Charles Hunt, the night manager, holding a stack of chairs in his arms like he’s lifting paperweights.

“Looks like you two are already deep into it,” Dex remarks, setting down the tray of canapés he’s been carrying. “I brought snacks for the troops. Figured they’d need some fuel for all the heavy lifting.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, laced with a bit of relief. “We need all the help we can get. The rooms still got a long way to go before it’s ready. And we only have four days to finish off this miracle.”

Charles gives a small chuckle as he places the chairs down in a neat stack. “We’ve got your back. Whatever you need.”

Marjorie gives him a wink. “If you don’t mind a little sparkle, I have plenty of fairy lights to go around.”

“I’m sure the hotel could use all the sparkle we can give it,” Charles quips, looking around at the worn floors and peeling walls. “Let’s make this place shine like it used to.”

I let out a breath. This job probably should take months, but we’re going to pull it offnow.

I hope Aunt Evie is looking down on me proudly. I hope I’m doing everything she wanted me to with this place.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Ryder

December 20th

I listento the phone conversation again, grateful I recorded it. The audacity is insane.

“Mr. Hale,” the lawyer begins, his tone icy, “I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Vincent Lang, who represents himself as the legal claimant for services rendered to the Garland Rose Hotel.”

My hand curls into a fist. Red rage bubbles inside of me.

“As you’re aware, Mr. Lang was employed by the late Mrs. Evie Quinn to provide a range of consultancy services, including legal and operational guidance for the hotel. These services were rendered over several years, yet the agreed-upon compensation was never fully paid. According to Mr. Lang’s records, he’s entitled to a sum that remains outstanding.”

“What are you…?”

I wish I weren’t so shocked on the call. But the lawyer really caught me off guard. There are so many things I wish I’d said instead.

“Now, we have documentation that clearly states the terms of payment. Mr. Lang’s contract stipulated a final settlement that was never made. This is why we are pursuing legalaction,” the lawyer presses on, unfaltering. “We are requesting full compensation for the agreed amount, plus interest, and we intend to pursue a civil suit if necessary. We are allowing you to resolve this without further escalation, but time is of the essence.”

There’sno wayI can let Sunny hear this. Not until I know what to do. I want to end this before it becomes an issue. I don’t want her stressed more.

“I’m sorry, but you’re telling me this is a legitimate claim? Vincent Lang, the same man who tried to run the hotel into the ground, now wants to sue for… what, unpaid consultancy? Are you kidding me?”

Of course, the lawyer pays no attention to my words.

“Mr. Hale,” he continues smoothly, “I understand your incredulity, but I assure you, the documentation is in order. Mr. Lang has been quite patient, but we can no longer afford to wait. If you’d prefer, I can have the contracts and invoices forwarded to your office directly. Should you wish to avoid court proceedings, a settlement will need to be arranged swiftly.”

Now I have more documents to go through. More financial mess.

Fuck.