The Colton Ransom by Marie Ferrarella

more important things to think about.

Chapter 8
    G abby felt as if she could hardly catch her breath today. It seemed as though it was just one thing after another and it was hard to say which was really the worst of it.
    A murder, a kidnapping and then her father collapsing in the middle of a tirade was practically too much to handle. She was afraid that anything more—large or small—would send her careening over the edge.
    But the problems insisted on continuing.
    Barely an hour after her father had been taken to the nearest hospital by ambulance, one of the maids, Gemma Harrigan, sought her out for a private word. The tall, angular young brunette was carrying a suitcase.
    “Are you going somewhere?” Gabby asked the woman. As far as she knew, Gemma hadn’t applied for a vacation or any sort of leave of absence.
    “Yes, I am,” Gemma informed her, choosing her words as if she were picking her way through a live minefield. “I’m going away.”
    “Gemma,” Gabby began, thinking that Faye’s murder was what was frightening the long-time employee into a hasty departure.
    But Gemma was quick to interrupt. “I’m sorry, Ms. Gabby, but I have to go. I know times are hard and I might regret this down the line, but I have to hand in my resignation.”
    “Your resignation?” Gabby repeated, stunned. This was worse than she’d thought.
    “Yes, and I wanted you to know why, Ms. Gabby.” The maid took a long breath, trying to fortify herself for what she had to say. “While I feel very close to you and your sisters,” she began, offering a small, fleeting smile as she looked at Gabby, “in all good conscience I just cannot continue working for a man like your father. I cannot work for a man who had no sense of loyalty toward the people who work for him—and I’m not the only one who feels this way,” the older woman warned Gabby.
    Did that mean that more people would be quitting? Oh, God, she hoped not. All Gabby could think of at this moment was that she wasn’t up to this.
    Torn, Gabby felt tugged in half a dozen different directions at the same time. While she was still angry with her father, her concern over his health outweighed her outrage at his staunch refusal to help save Trevor’s daughter. She wanted to be at the hospital with her father despite the fact that her two sisters had gone with him. But a part of her felt that someone had to remain at Dead River to hold down the fort in case anything else happened.
    And then, of course, there was a large part of her that wanted to help Trevor find his daughter despite the fact that he had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want or welcome her help.
    Since she was still here with the maid, Gabby did her best to talk the woman out of leaving, but it was like attempting to reason with someone who didn’t understand the language she was using—none of her words were registering.
    “Gemma, my father really didn’t mean what he said. He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” Gabby told the woman, mentally crossing her fingers because she was making it up as she went along.
    As far as she knew, there was nothing to say that her father wasn’t dealing with a great deal of stress—why else would he have suddenly collapsed that way? But she had nothing else to base her theory on except for her gut instincts.
    Still, she could understand why Gemma felt the way she did. Her father could be a very cantankerous old man when he wanted to be. She loved him, and in his own way, she knew he loved her and her sisters, but it was hard at times to hold on to that thought, especially when he could flatly turn her down the way he just had today.
    Gemma wasn’t about to be talked out of leaving, no matter what was said to her. The woman looked at her knowingly.
    “Oh, he meant it, all right, Ms. Gabby. Mr. Jethro always made it very clear that the lines were sharply drawn between us. He was the boss and we were just the ‘hired help.’ Interchangeable parts