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That’ll work.
Then she had to debate whether to address him in the email as Travis or Captain. (One for the con side.)
Stick with Cap, she told herself.
Cap, first I want to thank you for offering me a position in your unit. It’s a possibility I hadn’t considered, so I have a lot to think about.
I see the filing deadline for applications is December 18, with the written exam for Sergeant scheduled for January 4. I understand upon passing the written, I’ll have an oral board interview in late January.
Which explained why he’d brought it to her now, she thought. There would be a vacancy in February, and she could fill it.
I’ve already familiarized myself with the material for the Sergeant’s Promotional Exam in anticipation of a possible promotion within my current unit.
If I decide to file an application to fill your vacancy, I’ll study the material again. I understand your recommendation carries weight, and if we move forward, I won’t let you down.
Before I make that decision, I have a short list of questions.
She listed them, and ended the email with another note of appreciation for his confidence in her.
When she sent it, she noted the time. And realized she’d been awake and active for hours.
Not a single nap!
Doing a mental check, she found she didn’t feel the physical drag that meant she needed one.
Her parents would be home in a while, so she’d do something wild.
She’d make dinner.
In the kitchen, she checked for ingredients, supplies. She’d never known her parents not to be prepared, and wasn’t disappointed.
Taking out a large bag of frozen red sauce, she got to work.
It felt good to do something productive. Something not just for herself, for her recovery. For company, she switched on the TV.
When she had to sit down, she didn’t bitch at herself. She just sat, sipped some water, watched a pretty, perky woman with amazing red hair transform a very sad main suite into a calm and stylish oasis.
“Nice job, Red,” Sloan said, then got up to set the table before texting her sister.
Come in when you bring Mom home.
Okay. Why?
For me to know, you to find out.
Fine. Leaving in about twenty.
“Perfect.” Sloan signaled her acceptance with a thumbs-up emoji, then got back to it.
A half hour later when they came, she had a bottle of good Chianti breathing, wineglasses out, and the meal ready.
Elsie took one look at the kitchen, another longer one at Sloan. “You made dinner.”
“Well, you’d already made the sauce and the bread. I just defrosted them. It’s Italian night at the Coopers’. Lasagna, also known as Sloan’s Kickasserole, insalata mista, and garlic bread.”
“Smells good, looks good.” Drea accepted a glass of wine. “You’re feeling feisty tonight.”
“Why not? I got a doing-good from the doctor, drove a car again, walked fourteen—count them—additional steps, didn’t fall asleep on the couch. Oh, and Travis stopped by. It was good to see him. When do we expect Dad?”