Designed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Freeburn Christina

Author:Freeburn, Christina [Freeburn, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, christian fiction, christian mystery, mystery books, christian suspense, british mysteries, mystery series, humorous mystery, amateur sleuth, murder mysteries, craft mystery, cozy mystery, english mysteries, women sleuths, crafts, scrapbooking, female sleuth, southern fiction, southern mystery
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2013-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Grandma Hope peered into the storage room and frowned. “Did you forget your umbrella again?”

“It’s in the car. It would take me as much time to open it as it would to get inside. Seemed better just to run in.”

Hope sighed. “Go dry off in the employee lounge. I don’t want you dripping all over the inventory. I don’t think water spots on paper will ever be a trend.”

“Yes, grandma.” Sometimes it wasn’t worth arguing, and the fact I left my drink in the car meant I needed to use the coffee maker in the lounge. No sense playing in the rain when a coffee pot was in the building. I liked making the easiest and well-thought out choice, contrary to some of my other decisions.

After getting my caffeine, I went straight to work. Since the store was empty, a fact I decided to attribute to the downpour, I took out my sketch pad from under the counter and brainstormed some other class ideas.

I circled the idea about Steve doing a class. I should call and make sure it was okay with him. I know I wouldn’t like being volunteered for something. My grandmothers might do it to me on occasion, but they signed my paycheck.

What else? I needed something so inspiring that women would flock in to have their fee transferred rather than refunded. Christmas gift tags? Possible.

The phone rang. I snagged it from the receiver and tucked it between my chin and shoulder. “Scrap This, how can I help you?”

“You didn’t return my call,” Darlene said.

“I know.” I hung up and dusted off my hands. Hopefully, I took care of the problem of Darlene this time.

The morning held a theme. The phone rang. I answered. Darlene spoke. I hung up. You’d think by the fifth time Darlene would receive the hammer-to-the-head hint I wouldn’t speak with her. Not only was the routine old and annoying, but it kept interrupting my thought process and I still had no other ideas for new, unique classes.

The rain pounding the sidewalk hinted at what I wanted to do to Darlene, if I was that type of girl, which I wasn’t.

Yet.

The bane of my existence went off again. I moaned and picked up the receiver. Closing my eyes, I began my spiel. “Scrap This, how can I help you?”

“Faith is that you?”

“Yes...” Suspicion raised its ugly head with the use of my first name and the lack of introduction from the caller.

“I hate to bother you at work, sweetie, but some person has been driving up and down the block a few times now. They seem really interested in your house. You aren’t moving are you?”

The hopeful tone gave away the caller.

Mrs. Barlow wanted her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter to move to Eden and she had her eye on the townhouse I lived in. What she refused to accept was her daughter wanted nothing to do with the town of Eden, and my grandmothers would never sell the townhouse in hopes that if I ever left again I’d return.

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