Halloween Hijinks (A Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 1) by Kathi Daley Page B

who has a tendency toward arthritis.
    “Yeah, vet gave him some new meds . He seems to be takin’ to ʼem. He even came out on the boat with me this morning.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.”
    I turned toward Pappy and smiled. A few minutes of chitchat are about my limit with Tanner. Not that he isn’t a perfectly nice guy, but his inventory of conversational subjects seems limited to fishing, his dog, and something I try at all cost to avoid discussing: deer hunting.
    “I found out an intere sting piece of information yesterday,” I began. “It seems that my mother is in town, and apparently everyone who isn’t me has known of her presence for quite some time.” There was nothing better to distract me from a murder than discussion of my mother.
    Pappy’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he shot me an amused look . “Everyone who isn’t you?”
    “Well , maybe not everyone,” I admitted. “But Zak mentioned it, and I know Dad knows. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
    “Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.”
    “Why would he think I’d be upset?”
    “Are you upset?”
    “Of course I’m upset,” I screeched a bit too loudly for polite company.
    I blushed , and Pappy squeezed my hand in a gesture of support. Perhaps book club wasn’t the best venue for this particular conversation.
    “Your dad loves you more than anything,” Pappy reminded me . “If he didn’t tell you, he probably has a really good reason. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”
    “Yeah,” I conceded . “I know you’re right.”
    I’d thought several times today about paying my old man a visit and confronting him about his dinner with my mother , but some nagging instinct buried deep down inside had convinced me otherwise. I don’t know why my dad hasn’t chosen to fill me in on his visit with my mother, but I do know that Pappy was dead on when he stated that my dad loves me. He would never do anything to hurt me, and I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
    I turned to watch the dogs play while Phyllis King, a retired English teacher, fussed with tea and cookies . No one really wants the tea and cookies, but Phyllis insists they’re a must at any civilized soirée, so every week she brings them and every week we politely consume them.
    “Okay, let’s go ahead and get started,” Hazel Hampton, town librarian and book club leader, announced.
    “If I may,” Ernie Valdez interrupted the group , “I’d like to make an announcement now that we’re all gathered. I guess you all heard about Warren Trent’s accident.”
    Based on the affirmative murmurs in the room , it seemed apparent that everyone had.
    “Warren is a good friend of my grandson Michael. I spoke to Warren’s father today, and apparently there have been a few complications. The doctor has recommended surgery to head off problems down the road. The procedure is going to require an extended hospital stay, and the Trent family’s insurance won’t cover the entire cost of the operation. I’d like to propose that our group organize a fund-raiser to help the family with expenses.”
    “Oh, dear,” Phyllis tsk-tsked. “We most certainly should help. Does anyone have any suggestions as to the type of fund-raiser we should sponsor?”
    “How about a bake sale ?” Hazel suggested.
    “Do you have any idea how many cupcakes you’d have to sell to pay for even a small portion of an average hospital bill? ” I asked.
    “Do you have a better idea?” Hazel countered.
    I didn’t.
    “Maybe we could pass around a donation jar at the community picnic,” Nick suggested. “I bet there are a lot of folks who would pitch in to help a neighbor in need.”
    “That’s not a bad idea,” I said, trying for a softer approach than the one I’d taken with Hazel. “But what we really need to do is figure out a way to get a larger amount of money from fewer people.”
    “How about a raffle ?” Pappy suggested.
    The idea had merit . A raffle would require only a