Read Online Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel by Rose Pressey - Free Book Online Page A

aisle over, an older
woman seemed as if she might be trouble. I watched her and she eyed
me. If she picked up that cute little plate before I had a chance
to put it in my cart, there might be a struggle. Although she had
at least twenty pounds on me, I was betting I was faster.
Thrift-store shopping could be a risky venture. The old ladies
meant blood when a bargain was around. Heck, half the time I
thought they just wanted something because they thought someone
else did.
    I lucked into a set of three decorative jars,
all varying sizes. At three dollars for all, I felt as if I’d died
and gone to thrift-store heaven. Jars were great for displaying
items—the possibilities were endless. Plates of varying sizes with
curved and scalloped edges, which I’d spray-paint a pretty cream
color, called out to me. Yes, I’d paint plates. Nothing was safe
from spray paint as far as I was concerned. Luckily, there were
several that didn’t have chips.
    A couple of ugly wood shelves straight out of
1987 hid in the corner. I had to move the jelly shoes and shoulder
pads to get to them. If Bon Jovi had been on the radio, I would
have thought I’d stepped into a time warp. But a little paint would
bring them into the modern world. Behind an ugly ceramic cowboy
boot statue and lace-covered bookstand, I located a beat-up tray
that would look great painted with the flat surface covered with
chalkboard paint. I could display it in the kitchen and guests
would know what was on the menu for breakfast, not that the menu
would change often—doughnuts or muffins.
    The thrill of repurposing gave me a
high—almost as good as chocolate. Almost. I glanced around the room
to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. A pretty glass jar wept in
the corner. She was stuck between a yellow crushed-velvet loveseat
and an old record player from the 60s. I placed her in my cart;
she’d thank me later.
    On my way to the next shop, I found a huge
yard sale. Signs on the main street marked the way and I followed
the arrows. It was just a teensy bit out of the way, but yard sales
were worth going out of the way. Multiple families had set up their
unwanted items in one fortunate family member’s yard. As luck would
have it, I found an unopened container of chalkboard paint. You
never knew what you’d find. Not only could I make the menu board
for the kitchen, but I’d make chalkboards as Christmas gifts this
year, too. At two dollars, it was a real bargain.
    Next, I found a pair of black and cream toile
curtains, along with scrap pieces of burlap and red-and-white
checked fabric. One of my favorite things was toile pattern. I
could make great toss pillows for the sofa with the red-and-white
checked fabric.
    More fabulous finds: a bell jar, an old brass
birdcage, which I’d paint black, and odd jars of various sizes.
With my items tucked away in the trunk, I headed to the next thrift
store. For a brief moment, while on my shopping high, I’d forgotten
about the horrible discovery in the backyard. But no amount of
shopping would erase the image of Nancy from my mind
permanently.
    The store stood in a big lot beyond a large
grocery store and I missed the turn, so I zipped down the back
alley to take the side entrance. As I made a left to head into the
parking lot, I spotted it… a roadside rescue. It called out to me.
“Help me. Save me, Raelynn.” I whipped the car onto the shoulder
and threw it in park.

Chapter Eleven
    The dated oak dresser stood in its
scratched-up glory, nail-polished and heart-stickered, waiting for
its final fate. Next to it was a small, battered desk. The poor
thing looked so sad. I hopped out from behind the wheel and
examined the furniture. The dresser appeared to be solid—just
needed a bath, new paint, and a hardware revamp. Only problem was,
I’d never get it home in a Mustang convertible. I pulled out the
drawers to make sure they worked. If I didn’t take it now, it
wouldn’t be there later. A find like that wouldn’t last