The Missing Thorn

By Shannon Ash

Rose Brady is getting down to her last dollar. In the process of a divorce, and with two young children to support, she's financially strapped. So, when her sister's friend, Shelby, offers her the opportunity to spy on her husband, Rose jumps at the chance to earn some extra money.

Going undercover as a newspaper reporter, she goes even further undercover when she lands a job at the mayor's office, and soon this quirky mother of two realizes that her harebrained scheme to make some extra money wouldn't be as easy as she had thought. There's a festival war going on in mayor's office, and Rose finds herself right in the center of the action. To further complicate things, every time Rose turns around, she seems to run into the movie-star handsome Boone, a real private investigator, or so he says...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannon Ash
• Release date: Aug 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310688676

Shannon Ash

Shannon Ash is a stay-at-home mom to four amazing and messy children. She loves coffee, fears sinkholes and despises cabbage. Originally from Michigan, she has lived in seven states, four countries, and currently lives in a constant state of distraction somewhere in Georgia.

Book preview

The

Missing

Thorn

Shannon Ash

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The Missing Thorn

By Shannon Ash

Copyright 2014 by Shannon Ash

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Chapter One

When I was a child, my mother had to fight to get me to eat my peas. I hated vegetables, and anything that resembled vegetables. My mother dug deep into her arsenal of weapons, and declared in a very serious tone: But, if you don’t eat the peas, they’ll cry. You don’t want to make the peas cry, do you? I would stare at her, unsure about this rule of the cosmos. Suddenly, the peas would start whimpering and crying. I know it couldn’t have been my mother making these noises, because her lips weren’t moving. Since I didn’t want the peas to cry because of me, I would eat them, hating every bite, but content with the knowledge that at least the peas were happy.

More than twenty five years later, I still seem to assign feelings to inanimate objects. Completely irrational, I know. And it isn’t just inanimate objects; I can’t stand seeing any animal-let alone a person- in pain or sorrow either. I blame my mother for this over abundance of empathy.

So, when I received a phone call from Shelby Thorn, one of my sister’s friends, who was crying and sobbing into the phone, I had no choice. I had to try to make it all better.

Rose, I know I haven’t met you, but your sister, Lily, told me about you. Shelby managed to say between sobs.

What did Lily say exactly? I asked slowly, trying to get to the point of this call. My stove was beeping, and I was pretty sure my four-year-old son was trying out his new crayons on the wall in his bedroom.

Lily told me about your ex-husband? How you caught him ch-cheating? Shelby sobbed. I need your help.

I hate those words. I need your help. Especially because sometimes it seems like I can’t even help myself. I’m a soon-to-be divorced wife, and the mother of two small kids. At the moment, I had cheerios stuck to my jeans and flour in my dark hair, giving me a Cruella-De-Vil kind of look. There were M&M’s scattered around my kitchen floor which had to be picked up before my two-year old son found them, or else I’d be practicing the Heimlich maneuver all afternoon. Yet, when someone says they need my help, I can’t turn them down; and it’s all because of the crying peas.

You want to borrow the nanny cam I used? It’s hidden in a paperweight, and-

Um, she sniffled. I’m not sure what I need. I just want to know if he’s cheating. Shelby seemed to be calming down a bit. I heard you used a decoy on your husband, and maybe I need one of those.

Have you thought about hiring anyone? A private investigator or something? I asked. Suddenly, my smoke alarm started going off. I used a newspaper to fan the air around it as I turned and opened the oven door. The cookies I had been baking looked like chunks of coal. Please, lady, hurry up and let me get back to my chaos!

I called a few, she sighed and then continued. But they are all men. I just don’t think men really understand, you know? But, I can’t keep going on like this! And I can pay you, I just need to know if he’s ch-cheating. Shelby started crying again.

Pay me? Like in cash? I glanced over at the mortgage bill that was sitting on the counter. I was three months behind, and one step ahead of eviction. I needed to find a way to come up with two thousand dollars, and soon. My wallet currently held six dollars and some change. Bank accounts were on empty. Getting a divorce was proving to be expensive, and I hadn’t even found a lawyer yet. The beautiful four-thousand-square-foot house in the suburbs of Detroit that my husband had thought was a good investment turned out to be a weight around my neck. He didn’t want to pay the mortgage, I couldn’t pay the mortgage, and I couldn’t sell the house for as much as we owed the bank. Although my future ex-husband was a real estate agent, he didn’t seem to be working very hard on selling his own house, though he did recently buy himself a new red convertible. Jerk. Meanwhile, I was completely broke. And this woman was willing to just throw money at me for some good advice? Well, I guess I’d have to help her, after all, how can I say no to this sobbing, blubbering woman?

Okay, Shelby, calm down. Why don’t you come over and we can discuss it. How about two o’clock? I purposely picked a time during the boy’s naptime, hoping that we might have some peace and quiet.

I don’t know. You know, I’m the wife of the mayor of Oak Shores, and I’m pretty busy. Maybe Lily has told you about me?

No, Lily’s never mentioned you, I replied.

Shelby was silent for a few seconds, as though she couldn’t understand why I’ve never heard of her. Um, okay, I guess could probably make it around two o’clock. Shelby decided. I gave her my address and quickly hung up the phone. I quickly pulled a smoking sheet of cookies out of the beeping oven, and went to hunt down my children. Once I decided that they were safely playing in the bedroom, and the crayons were safely stored on a high shelf, I pulled my long dark hair back into a tight pony-tail, and attempted a second batch of cookies.

Shelby Thorn drove up in a giant white Cadillac SUV exactly two minutes after two o’clock. She climbed out of the car as I watched her from the window. She was tiny, about five feet tall and a hundred pounds, with honey blonde hair expensively cut into layers around her face. She was dressed in knee-high brown leather boots, beige riding pants, and a white button down shirt with French cuffs. Her leather jacket matched her boots, and she had a pink and beige silk scarf expertly tied around her neck. Shelby glanced at the house, lifted her chin, and walked to the door, looking much more composed than the sobbing woman who had called earlier

Hi, you must be Shelby; I’m Rose. I introduced myself and let her into the house.

Hmm. You don’t seem very much like your sister Lily. Shelby’s light green eyes swiveled around the foyer, sizing up the place. She attempted to peer into the other rooms of my traditional colonial-style house. I wondered what she was thinking. She has probably been inside Lily’s perfectly pristine house, and was comparing it to mine. They couldn’t be more different. Lily’s house was professionally decorated by Pottery Barn, while nearly every piece of furniture in my house came from Wal-Mart, Target or IKEA. My wood floors had scratches and gouges from numerous metal toy cars using it as a racetrack.