Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel Read Online Free PDF Page A

up from the chair. “I guess I’ll
move into my new home.”
    She smiled and I wrapped my arms around her
and gave a big squeeze. “Good for you. Go get ’em,” Claire Ann
said.
    I followed her out the front door, then
stopped to lock up my new house as she made her way through the
gate. “I’m going to get my belongings. I’ll call you later,” I
yelled.
    Claire Ann waved and I watched her march down
the sidewalk away from my new front porch. I couldn’t believe I
owned all this. Could I really turn it into a hotel? Finding
something ugly for a few dollars and turning it into something
beautiful had always given me a thrill. Maybe I could do it.
    All I wanted to do was sit and stare at the
house, afraid I’d wake up from a dream, but as I stood there
gawking, something caught my attention. A chill ran down my spine
and I had the distinct sensation that someone was watching me.
    I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. A car
zipped down the road out front, but the driver hadn’t noticed me. A
dog barked in the distance, but I saw nothing unusual. I shrugged
it off and stepped down from the porch and onto the path leading to
the iron gate.
    “Hi there,” the gravely southern accent
said.
    My heart did a flip. I whipped around to find
the source of the voice, a woman with brown hair piled high on her
head standing at the edge of the fence to the right side of the
property.
    I held my hand up to my chest. “Oh, hi. You
startled me.”
    “Sorry about that.” She pointed toward the
house. “If you’re looking for Mrs. Mathers, you know she died.”
    “Yes, I’m aware. I was at the funeral. I
didn’t see you there.” If people knew she had died then why the
heck hadn’t they attended the funeral? That was making me
angry.
    “I’m her neighbor, Judy Maupin. Or was… until
the sweet dear passed. So tragic.” She shook her head.
    Call me suspicious, but she didn’t sound
sincere.
    “Um, yes, it was very tragic,” I offered.
    “What can I do for you?” she asked while
crossing her arms in front her bloated waist.
    Wow, this was awkward. How did I tell people
that I owned the place now?
    “Well, I…”
    She stared at me. “Yes…”
    I couldn’t help but look down at her
bulging-at-the-seams white shorts, then at her round blotchy face
again. Had she been running? I glanced down at her shoes.
Bright-red wedge heels. Nope, she hadn’t been jogging.
    “Who are you?” I asked, throwing the ball
into her court.
    “I live next door.” She gestured toward the
small white house with her thumb so hard that I thought she might
have broken it. “Who the hell are you?” She scowled.
    We were getting off to a great start. “You
don’t recognize me?” I thought everyone recognized the outsider in
town.
    She studied my face. “You work in the store,
right?”
    I moved closer to her and stretched out my
hand. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Raelynn Pendleton. I’m the new owner
of this house.”
    Her mouth dropped. When she regained her
composure, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
    “Mrs. Mathers left me the house.” I gestured
with my thumb over my shoulder.
    “She what? Did she even know you?” She
scanned the length of my body before focusing on my face again.
    “Of course she knew me. She came in the store
all the time. We were friends. Since she didn’t have family, I
guess she wanted to leave it to me.” I shrugged and smiled. The
last thing I needed was a feud with my neighbor. Judging by the
scowl on her face, and the fact she didn’t shake my outstretched
hand, I was too late. Just call me Hatfield and her McCoy.
    “I was friends with her, too. I baked the
woman those damn chocolate-chip cookies and she scarfed them down
as if she hadn’t eaten in a month.” She whirled around, stumbled on
her wedge heels, spat a colorful phrase, then stomped off.
    “Nice meeting you, Judy,” I muttered in her
wake.
    I shook my head as I headed toward the gate.
No time to worry about her