Something Frightful Part 6b

Libby changed her mind about going to dinner three or four times.

The hamper drawer was calling her name.

The hamper drawer did not judge or require sparkling conversation.

The hamper drawer offered only happiness, pie crust, and fruitcake.

In her other life as the manager of Ana Minotaur's secondhand stress, Libby had usually been the person arranging formal dinners, then ordering extra catering for the assistants and interns lurking in the corridor, working on their phone until dinner was over.

She rarely had a place setting herself.

It was best to stay on the move, coordinating disasters from afar.

The only important clothing choice was not to upstage her boss.

Libby's default dress code was blend into the background.

This was silly.

She had at last count three moderate black dresses.

When one's curves were as majestic as Libby's, little black dresses didn't quite cut it, that were both flattering and comfortable.

She also had her funeral ball gown, a single pair of good jeans that fit her perfectly.

She was pretty sure witchcraft had been involved in that one, and she had never found the shop in question again.

12 silk scarves and the best underwear in the business.

She had options, but this was a family estate of the Great Grimm.

For all she knew, they came to dinner in blood-stained wellies and tweed pajamas.

Not knowing the parameters made her anxious.

Before the completely unnecessary panic swallowed her whole, Libby took action, which meant heading back down those tower stairs, damn it.

Honestly, she was gonna be so fit by the time she left this job, she could run marathons.

She wouldn't, but she could.

"Shortest distance to Winifred's Bower, please," she asked the house, and immediately found herself facing the right door.