Free Enemies on Tap by Avery Flynn Page B

the second jangle. “Sweet Salvation Brewery, this is Miranda.”
    Please, God, let it be a contractor.
    “So how goes it in Podunk, Virginia?”
    The sound of Patilla the Hun’s voice tore through her hopeful mood like a hacksaw mutilating a child’s birthday balloon. Hard, vicious, and total overkill. The boss from hell only called when he had last-minute assignments for her or wanted to gloat. She was too far away for his patented dump-and-dash, so he had to be about to rub something awful in her face.
    “Everything’s fine, Pat. What can I do for you?” Cool. Calm. Collected. At least on the outside.
    “Can’t a boss check in on an underling’s progress on a pipe dream?” Now that sounded more like the weasel she knew and despised. “I hear there was a workplace accident. I hope everyone is okay and that the federal workplace safety folks aren’t on your doorstep.”
    Her stomach sank faster than a full keg in wet cement. “Everyone is fine, and the dock is in the process of being repaired.” If she could line up a damn contractor. “How did you find out about the incident?”
    “That’s what you’re calling a potential injury lawsuit? Cute. You didn’t think I wouldn’t keep an eye out for you, did you?” She could practically see him twisting an imaginary mustache like a villain in a silent movie. “So, it looks like that corner office you’ve been drooling over will be filled by the time you get back.”
    He paused for effect while she screamed NO in her head.
    “Mr. DeBoer opened the position to outside candidates,” Patilla the Hun continued, a light lilt to his voice as if he was relating the cutest story about how his adorable pet snake swallowed the neighbor’s baby whole. “It really is too bad that you’re out of the office for the next few months. You know how important it is in this kind of volatile situation to have the big boss see you every day working to build the company.”
    Because reaching through the phone and strangling him wasn’t an option, she closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath all the way from her toes. “Thanks for the update.”
    “Oh, any time. Have a great afternoon.” He hung up before she even had a chance to respond.
    Staring at the phone in her hand, heat burning her cheeks, she fought the urge to scream.
    “You look like you’re about to pop, big sis.”
    Her sister Natalie’s familiar voice zapped the annoyance right out of Miranda, and she ran across the recently de-cluttered office. The middle of the Sweet triplets, her hair pulled back into a tight French braid, stood in the door wearing a goofy grin, her ever-present pearl necklace, the latest in a long line of nondescript pastel pink cardigans, and a tan, mid-calf length skirt from some academic-researchers-gone-wild catalog. Miranda hadn’t seen a more beautiful sight since she’d stepped foot in Salvation.
    “Seeing you is better than Christmas morning.” Wrapping her arms around one of her two mirror images, Miranda squeezed. “Thank God you’re here.”
    “How could I say no after that last text? I’m just sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.” Her sister rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re almost as big of a drama queen as Olivia.”
    “We both know I’m not that bad. Anyway, I knew threatening to hire another efficiency expert would get you.” She pulled back from the bear hug.
    “True.” Natalie gave the office a less-than-approving perusal and pushed her thick framed glasses back into place. “Is it all as bad as this?”
    “You should have seen the place before I cleaned it.” She laughed at her sister’s horrified expression. “Come on, let me give you a tour and get you up to speed on our progress.”
    After showing off the newly clean and only slightly in-need-of-repair brewery, they ended up back in the front office where, behind closed doors, she paced from one end to the other while catching her sister up on the latest curve ball tossed their way.
    “So,