Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“But her rings weren’t taken.” Josh pointed out.
“Pepper’s arrival might have prevented that,” my dad said. “We’ll investigate every possibility. Right now, I’m going to the hospital with your mom. I’ll keep you updated to what’s going on.”
“I’ll get right on it, Dad,” Josh said, “and if you think of anything else, Pepper, let me know.” He hurried off, calling out orders to the other officers.
I saw that my mom was being placed in the ambulance, looking alert and busy chatting with the EMS workers, most of them locals.
“Your mom is campaigning, asking the local rescue squad how she can help them if elected,” my dad said, shaking his head. “Between you and your mom, I’ll be lucky if I make it to retirement.”
“Baldness will come before retirement,” I teased.
“After this unfortunate incident, you may be right,” my dad said, raising his voice and his finger to point at me. “You’re going to listen to me about this, Pepper.” He looked at Ian. “And you’re going to make sure she does what I tell her or you’re both in trouble.” He turned back to me. “You are no longer to pursue this. Leave it to me and the sheriff’s department. If this person thinks nothing of striking an older woman who can’t defend herself, then he’s a dangerous fool. Stay away and leave it to me.”
“I’d be careful if I were you, Dad,” I warned.
“I’m the sheriff. I can handle it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that, Dad. I think your goose is cooked.” I pointed to the ambulance. Mom was inside, sitting up with her arms crossed over her chest and a death ray glare shooting out of her eyes at my dad.
He looked for himself, then quickly looked back at me and Ian for one of us to explain.
I was trying not to laugh, and I saw Josh doing the same. So, Ian answered him, fighting not to smile. “I believe it was the part where you called her an older woman who couldn’t defend herself.”
My dad’s shoulders sagged. “My goose is more than cooked.”
I managed not to laugh as I said, “I’d say it’s burnt to a crisp.”
CHAPTER 8
Ishook my head eyeing the mound of boxes and packages in the garage that I needed to go through and post on social media. I was giving more and more thought to Ian’s suggestion about getting an assistant. It was probably long overdue. But I needed someone who was familiar with prepping, and that wouldn’t be an easy find.
Ian had suggested it again when he asked me what my day looked like, and I had rattled off a mountain of work.
“Get an assistant or maybe two,” Ian had said before leaving this morning.
I reminded him that Edith, Ian’s personal assistant in Scotland and a blunt, older woman, had yet to find a suitable assistant—her counterpart—for him here in America.
“Edith wants to find the right person for the position, and I trust her judgment. She will find someone soon enough. In the meantime, you might seriously consider how much an assistant could help you,” he had stressed, and I thought he just might have a good point.
He and Beau were busy expanding the business, though neither had given up modeling just yet. They were just a bit more selective in what shoots they chose, which put them in even more demand. Both being motorcycle enthusiasts, they were eager to do the MC series shoots for a NYT Bestselling Author.
Realizing that I would soon sink with the amount of work that I needed to do, I decided to put out a word in the prepper community to find someone who might be interested in a virtual assistant job.
I returned to the kitchen for a second cup of tea just as my phone rang. It was my mom. It had been three days since the incident at Willow Mansion and I was relieved that she was doing well, not that I expected anything less since my mom was, excuse the worn adage, a force to be reckoned with.
“How are you doing, Mom?” I asked as soon as I answered.
“The doctor said I am good to go, and I feel that I am, not that your dad believes it. I need to get back to campaigning, also to the beautification of the Main Street project, and a myriad of other things that require my attention. That is if your dad would trust that I am feeling fit enough to do so.”
“He and all of us worry about you, Mom,” I said, as concerned as my dad was for her. “And he—we—worry that your attacker may still be lurking around.”
I heard her sigh heavily.
“I do understand, and I am grateful to have such a loving family, but I really cannot remain in the house one more day or until the culprit is caught. Your dad said that he’d be okay with me going out if I took Mo with me. Can you spare him for the day?”