Read Online EMBELLISHED TO DEATH by Christina Freeburn - Free Book Online

getting away before a cropper spotted her and waylaid her into a conversation. Lydia’s face was the face of Cropportunity. She’d turned herself into a mini-scrapbook celebrity in our part of West Virginia.
    â€œI can’t believe someone parked that disgusting truck out there.” A woman exaggerated a shiver. “A toilet.”
    â€œThat guy did say it was one of the vendor trucks and not because of plumbing problems at the hotel.”
    â€œJust think of the type of stuff normally carried in the back of that trailer. Toilets. Plumbing equipment. And now, products being sold to use on our photos are in there.”
    I flinched. The trailer wasn’t good advertising for the resort or Scrap This. I hoped I could find a place to park it where it wasn’t that noticeable. Heck, I hoped I could actually park it. Arriving croppers glared at our truck and trailer. It was taking up a large portion of the unloading zone. Not a good idea to tick off your potential customers.
    Sneaking outside, I peered into the trailer: three boxes and a handcart. No problem. Using all my strength, I lifted and pushed the lift gate into place. I stood on my toes and secured the safety latches. Fortunately, they weren’t at the top of the trailer like the handle. I surveyed the parking lot. There were four spots at the furthest end of the lot on the convention center side. A row of trees shaded ten spaces. It looked large enough for me to park there, and there was a curb I could stand on and reach the handle. I’d have to make a longer trip to the convention center, but I had a handcart. I hoped the manager didn’t mind I filled up all those spots with the truck and trailer. There was no way I’d be able to fit it anywhere else without damaging something.
    Taking in a deep breath, I yanked open the driver side door.
    I settled into the seat. Where did Steve put the keys? He might have taken them with him. But knowing Steve as I did, he would’ve left them somewhere in case there was an emergency and the trailer needed moved.
    The glove compartment? Nothing. Under the seat? I felt around. Nothing. The passenger seat? I crawled over the console and checked underneath. Bingo. The keys. I shoved the key into the ignition. Now to start this baby up and get it moving. I prayed pulling into the empty spaces would be as easy as I envisioned.
    After a few jerky starts and stops, I figured out the pressure I needed to use on the gas pedal and inched the mobile Scrap This store away from the loading zone. The moment the bumper cleared the awning, a van zoomed up
    I parked the truck and trailer. I scrambled out and for a few minutes stood to the side and admired my work.
    The strap to pull down the door was still out of my reach. I just discovered I had a talent for parking large vehicles, so maybe I also possessed some high jumping skills. I jumped, almost face-planting into the metal door and twisting my ankle when I landed on the edge of the curb.
    Okay, bad idea. I needed to admit defeat and find someone taller.
    A dark-haired man wearing a WVU golf shirt sauntered toward me. “Looks like you could use a hand.”
    â€œThe handle is a little out of my reach.”
    â€œI can see.” He tugged down the door.
    I jogged up the ramp.
    â€œIt looks like you’re about done.” The man looked into the trailer. “I can carry those boxes for you.”
    â€œI got it from here. Thanks for your help…” I paused and waited for him to supply his name.
    â€œA lot of women attend this scrap thing.” He looked at two women entering the convention center with large rolling totes.
    â€œAbout a hundred,” I said. And one of them was the woman Bob needed to find. I hoped for Bob’s sake, and the victim of the identity thief, that he found her before the event ended on Sunday. It would be hard to track her down once she left the building.
    The man climbed in. He stretched out his