Five
Hannah carved slices of beautifully cooked prime rib and ported them neatly to the extended plate, suppressing comparisons of doing the same with some bullet-ridden kidneys less than twenty-four hours previously. The guests of Sarah’s client wouldn’t appreciate the distinction of having their meat carved by a morgue cutter. Her siblings sure didn’t like her doing any carving at the family gatherings. Tended to kill their appetites.
Sarah appreciated her cutting skills. Hannah liked that. It helped being able to stay somewhat in her comfort zone—though it made her blink to think of the morgue as a comfort zone. Hannah hadn’t been sure what kind of server she’d be. Her brains had netted her scholarships, so she hadn’t had to wait tables to get through school. So far, she’d label herse
