Free The Battered Body by J. B. Stanley

help us taste all the wedding cake candidates, aren’t you, dear?” She clinked the rim of her glass against his and sighed contentedly. “I’m so glad to have y’all gathered here together. My old family and my new family. Perfect.”
    Settling regally into one of the kitchen chairs, Paulette picked up the knife and fork laid out on the table and began cleaning spots from their surfaces with a paper napkin covered with rotund snowmen. “You were always disgustingly sentimental, Milla. I’m surprised you managed to muster up enough gumption to run your own business.”
    “You’re not the only one who knows their way ’round pots and pans,” Milla retorted sharply. “And my classes have been quite successful, thank you kindly.” She sat down opposite her sister, but her posture was much less rigid than Paulette’s stiff-backed carriage. “I gotta say, though, I’m getting a bit tired of teaching all those classes up in New Market and then driving down here to be with my future spouse. Jackson and I have decided to live in this house after we’re married. My place is too small for the both of us, and I know Sir Charles will be tickled to death to run footloose and free around this yard.”
    “I still cannot believe you named a dog after that two-timing future king of England.” Paulette eyed her sister curiously. “So what are you going to do? Please tell me that you’re not going to revert to being a cloistered housewife.” Paulette cast a judgmental stare at Jackson.
    “Don’t give me the hairy eyeball, woman,” Jackson grumbled at Paulette. “Milla’s the boss of her own mind.”
    Milla reached over and covered her fiancé’s weathered hand with her own. “Jackson is always supportive of everything I do, and I’ve decided to open a gourmet gift shop right here in Quincy’s Gap. We get a lot of tourists passing through, and the local folks are always complaining about having to drive to the big malls to buy anything unique, so I figure I’ll get plenty of business.”
    James leaned over Milla’s shoulder and refilled her wine glass. “That sounds great. What kind of things will you carry?”
    “ Quincy’s Whimsies will be filled with all kinds of gourmet food. I plan to make things that neither the bakery nor our grocery stores carry.” Milla pointed at Paulette. “And I’ll stock all of your cookbooks, of course. Plus, I thought I’d feature products by some of our area craftsmen and women. I’ve already talked to a woman who makes the most gorgeous pottery, a gentleman who can fix me up with beeswax candles and fresh jars of honey, and a young man who makes goat’s milk soaps and lotions. I took a goat’s milk bubble bath the other night, and my skin felt just like a twenty-year-old’s! Lord, the stuff is pure magic, I tell you!”
    Paulette perked up fractionally at this pronouncement. “Really? I’d like to sample some of this person’s products.”
    “We can visit his farm tomorrow. I’m thinking of using this young man’s products for wedding favors.” Milla got up, reduced the temperature of the oven, and turned on the front stove burner. She poured beef stock and some red wine into the meat drippings collected in a frying pan and began to stir the concoction.
    “I doubt I have the appropriate attire for mucking through fields of goat droppings.” Paulette’s expression quickly turned sour.
    “Relax, sister.” Milla giggled. “You won’t be forced to rough it too much. The boy’s got a shed next to the house where he sells his wares.”
    “Just don’t go displayin’ that fur coat of yours ’round this town anymore,” Jackson ordered. “If James’s redhead friend doesn’t spray it with red paint, then you might just get attacked by a huntin’ dog.”
    Paulette paled. “Oh, my. I guess I’ll have to settle for my cashmere overcoat. Your hunting dogs won’t go after that, will they? I could spray it with my Chanel Number Five. My parfum costs two