Page 33 of Magical Midlife Conclave

“Do you think I should put on other jeans? These are more dressed down than yours.”

“I think they’re fine. You look great,” he called.

My red top had a bit of inlaid sparkle to it—a dressy sort of casual to fit Nessa’s criteria—and plunged down toward my cleavage. A trio of dainty gold necklaces draped across the exposed skin, and diamond studs adorned my ears. To complete the ensemble, leather boots with pointed toes peeked out from under the cuffs of my jeans.

Mr. Tom was in the kitchen, working on dinner. It was probably why Niamh was allowed to hang out without being pestered to move along before our guests arrived. Surprisingly, he also hadn’t come up to pester me to ensure my outfit matched the brief.

Then again, it was stylish/dressy casual attire. It wasn’t that big of a stretch from normal.

Austin was at the dresser, choosing which watch to wear. I opened my mouth to tell him I was going down, but twinges of unease filtered in through my various connections. For the feeling to pull me out of my daily life meant they were stronger than normal.

I paused, my hand on the door, seeing if the emotional load would increase. That would usually mean danger or an issue.

“You good?” Austin half turned to me.

Instead, the feeling dimmed, if not totally slipping away.

“Yeah.” I patted the doorframe. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Yup. I won’t be long.”

The hall was quiet, all the doors closed. Ulric and Jasper were in their rooms. Hollace and Cyra currently flew over the town and beyond, checking over the patrols as they made their rounds. Edgar was sitting in the middle of the wood, doing God knew what.

None of them would be attending the dinner tonight, this not being an official meeting. We’d decided that something informal would be fitting in case the sisters had jet lag, and also to introduce the team that would be helping to style them for the conclave. Tonight we’d all dress down, and tomorrow we’d have a formal dinner in one of Austin’s restaurants, where we’d show them the glitz and glamour befitting a high-profile situation.

I wondered how the sisters would react to our eclectic crew. Aljoe said they were open-minded and mostly easygoing…but that was for shifters. Aljoe was starting over with us on the heels of living in a dirty camp, skating along rock bottom. He basically took what he could get. I didn’t have high hopes that he was correct in his assessment.

Which made this smaller, mostly “normal” crew tonight a good way for the sisters to get their feet wet.

Nessa and Sebastian were in separate rooms, using the facilities so they didn’t have to go all the way home to freshen up. They could do dressy casual in their sleep.

“Hey.” I walked into the sitting room. Niamh sat in the recliner, flicking through a magazine. She had a beer next to her on the end table, sitting on a doily. “You know Aljoe and them are coming over now-ish, right?”

“Yep. Just waiting for Fred.”

“Right.” I hesitated in sitting down. “Given that you are dressed very casually, you probably need to choose one of the many other rooms to wait. We’re doing that small meeting thing.”

“She’s just being nosy.” Mr. Tom bustled in with a glass of wine. “Here you are, miss. Something to calm your nerves.”

I frowned at him. “I’m not nervous.” I hesitated. “Should I be nervous?”

“He’s talking about whatever ye were reacting to there just now,” Niamh said. “What was it?”

“Oh.” I took the glass and sat on the loveseat. “I don’t know. Felt like unease. It didn’t increase, though. Now it’s dimmed. Someone probably got suspicious of something, but not enough to raise an alarm. Could’ve been anything.”

Mr. Tom stared at Niamh. “Is there a reason you are still darkening this parlor with your presence?”

“Parlor? Look at this now, Mr. High and Mighty.” Niamh took a sip and made like she might get up. “Ah sure, we have time for one more, don’t we? Go get us a beer, would ya, Sir Tom?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why? So, you can hide that God-awful doily somewhere in this room? You weren’t invited here, you lush. Go someplace else.”

“Okay, all right.” I held up my hands. “When Aljoe arrives, Niamh can go then, okay? Let’s compromise.”

“You shouldn’t compromise with her,” Mr. Tom warned. “Give an inch, as they say.” He left the room in a huff.

“What’s got him in a tizzy?” Niamh asked.

“You, I think. As usual.”