Free A Biscuit, a Casket by Liz Mugavero Page B

didn’t make her feel any better. Her heart wasn’t
     on the dairy farm, so she had no idea why her feet had landed her there earlier. “I
     have no clue why they think I’m qualified as an office worker. I don’t even know why
     I’m doing books. I’ve never done books for anyone in my life. People just assume since
     I worked in financial services I’m an accountant or an investment manager or something.”
    Duncan, who had been sitting at her feet since she came in, stood and pushed his face
     into her hands, watching anxiously to see if she was upset. She rubbed his nose and
     fed him a treat.
    “I think it’s sweet. It’ll be good practice. You’ll have to do books for your business,”
     Brenna pointed out.
    Stan thought about that. It was true, but still. Doing books for a five-hundred-cow
     dairy farm was a bit beyond the scale of her meager little pet food business.
    “I’d recommend a heavy pair of boots,” Jake said. He pulled out a knife and began
     slicing through a pile of lemons and limes. “Gets cold this time of year.”
    “What are you talking about?” Stan demanded. “I’m not working outside on the dairy farm! I don’t even think I like dairy farms. Aren’t they mean to the
     cows? That’s what Nikki says.” She lowered her voice as a couple of members of Jake’s
     staff stopped what they were doing and stared at her.
    “Mean? I don’t think so,” Jake said. “It’s not like a factory farm. I don’t think
     cows have the best deal around, but I don’t think they’re treated badly. It’s not
     like beef cows. Think about it. Even if the farmers aren’t as . . . animal-sensitive
     as someone like you, the cows are their livelihood. If they mess that up, they’re
     just hurting themselves.”
    “They better not be,” Stan said. “Because I don’t care about buying local if that’s
     the case. And I certainly wouldn’t want to work for a place like that. I just said
     yes because everyone was watching me and I felt bad for Em. I mean, jeez, she just
     lost her husband. What was I supposed to say?”
    Brenna looked sympathetic. “And once Em gets something in her head, good luck getting
     it out. Right, Jake?”
    “Yep. Once she’s got you, she’s got you. Trust me, it’s happened to us,” Jake said.
    “Why do you think I used to babysit those kids?” Brenna rolled her eyes and shuddered.
     “Because of our mother. She promised Em. Danny, the one with the chain saw? That kid
     was a nightmare.”
    “Was?” Stan asked at the same moment Jake repeated, “Chain saw?”
    “Yeah, I see your point,” Brenna said to Stan. To Jake, “He thought it would be funny
     to greet guests with a real chain saw when they came in for the maze. Almost took
     Stan’s head off.” She grinned. “That’s nothing. One time when I was babysitting he
     got his hands on a butcher knife and locked me out of the house. I had to explain
     that to Em and Hal when they got home. Kid’s a piece of work. But I guess we all know
     where he got that.”
    “Yeah, Hal was a handful,” Jake said, his eyes on the limes he was slicing fast and
     furiously. Stan watched his fingers, almost a blur as they moved through their task.
    Brenna snorted. “My brother, the king of understatement.”
    Jake filled a lime tray and covered it with plastic, then focused on the lemons with
     a shrug. “No understatement about it. He was a handful. He spent a lot of time here.”
    “Like every night. When he wasn’t out playing poker or doing whatever else he did
     for his opening act,” Brenna said.
    Stan was surprised to hear Brenna, so normally carefree, sound almost . . . bitter.
    Jake noticed it, too. “Bren, leave it alone.”
    Brenna’s voice ratcheted up. “Why? It’s the truth. And it’s about time people stopped
     pussyfooting around and protecting him. Em doesn’t deserve that.”
    “Protecting him from what?” Stan piped in. Both Jake and Brenna turned and stared
     at her as if