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Patty didn’t flinch as she opened her soda. “My body functions just fine, Aunt Karen.”

“A shifter without a wolf is half a person in pack business, Patricia. The sooner you stop hiding behind paintbrushes and face reality, the better off you’ll be.”

Before Karen could launch into a full lecture on pack standards, Sloane stepped slightly closer to Patty, holding up a napkin with a quick sketch Patty had jotted down earlier.

“Actually, Karen,” Sloane said, keeping her voice completely smooth, “Patty’s paintbrushes just landed her a major custom jacket order that pays more than my last three freelance gigs combined.”

Karen’s mouth pressed into a thin, tight line. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but across the room, Hilary tapped a spoon against her glass to call the room to order for the birthday toast, cutting Karen off right in time.

After the toast, Grandma Ruth spotted us. “There you are,” she called. “Hudson, carry that cooler. Sloane, come see the food I made for Alfonse.”

“I’ve received my assignment,” she said.

“Yeah, that tends to happen around here.”

She followed Grandma to the tables while I carried a full cooler ten feet to the left, where it apparently had been destined all along. By the time I finished, Sloane had been absorbed into a cluster of women discussing whether the birthday banner should have been centered over the dessert table or the dance floor.

Sloane stood between Grandma and Julie, studying the banner with professional seriousness.

“It’s visually balanced from the entrance,” she said. “If you move it over the desserts, the left side will feel too heavy.”

Karen folded her arms. “The cakes are the focal point.”

“Aren’t the birthday people the focal point?” Sloane asked.

Grandma Ruth nodded pointedly. “Exactly.”

Karen looked at me as though I might overturn the ruling. I picked up a stack of cups. “The people are the focal point,” I agreed.

Sloane tried not to smile.

Karen walked away with a huff.

I moved closer to Sloane. “You handled that well.”

“I have extensive experience with clients who are emotionally attached to placement.”

Grandma linked her arm through Sloane’s. “You have good sense,” she said. “Hudson needs more of that around him.”

“Hey! I’m standing right here. And I have sense.”

Both women looked at me. I immediately regretted entering the conversation.

Grandma tilted her head. “How much water have you had today?”

Sloane’s attention immediately homed in on me. I should have left. “I’ve had water.”

“That didn’t answer her question,” Sloane said.

I sighed. “I had two bottles.”

“What size?” Sloane asked.

“Normal bottle size.”

Grandma looked pleased. “Ask him about lunch.”

I held up a hand. “I had lunch.”