EMBELLISHED TO DEATH by Christina Freeburn Read Free Book Online Page B

convention center side of the hotel. “I need two spaces. If I can’t get those spaces, I don’t know how else I’ll explain my presence.”
    A perfect idea slipped into my mind. “You could work for me at Scrap This. We’re vending here.”
    â€œThat’ll be my last resort. I need to be able to move around the room and being tied to the store won’t allow it.” Bob pressed the lever on the door and held it open for me.
    The carpet switched from deep red to beige, leaning toward brown, with a black filigree design. I wondered if the carpet people ran out of the original selection when they finished with the huge convention center foyer. Or, if an owner of the Eagle Mountain Estate liked the red better and agreed to a compromise of using it just in the connecting hallway. That deep red would’ve been overwhelming, bordering on creepy, if placed in the large foyer.
    Conversation areas were staged throughout the large foyer. The sofas and arm chairs were a mix of olive green, mauve, and mustard yellow. Coffee tables acted as the grounding piece for each set. Light poured through the windows framing the front of the building. Raised wood blinds let their cords dangle into the dirt of the large potted plants guarding the windows. Our trailer was still out front, a large toilet displayed to the world and all the croppers. I needed to unload and move it. We didn’t want other arrivals to think the resort had plumbing issues.
    Three sets of large double doors were braced open. A trickle of wind found its way inside. Vendors volleyed for possession of four luggage carts. Thankfully, Steve had rounded up a few handcarts before we left Eden so we had our own. Sometimes it was best not to use community property items, especially when they were in short supply.
    â€œThe registration desk is by the door.” I maneuvered myself between two women tugging a cart and walked into the cropping room.
    The vendors were placed like a corral with all the cropping tables in the middle of the room. An identity thief would occupy one of those tables. I hoped the set-up didn’t make it harder for Bob to investigate. He wouldn’t be able to search totes and bags without a vendor spotting him. Then again, a vendor could be the thief—what easier way to get information from a person than providing a service to them.
    â€œI’m going to help them move the machine.” Bob leaned his head toward the left.
    Pauline and Ellie struggled with centering their embossing machine on a table. They’d be the least likely ones to use the retreat as a means to get identities. Croppers brought their albums with them to the retreat and handed them to the embossers, picking them up later. There would be no reason for Pauline and Ellie to collect addresses. There wasn’t a scrapbooker I knew who’d send their album through the mail to get embossed, even if all the layouts remained at home.
    The other vendors were from direct sales companies: a simple scrapbooking business, stamps, totes, and locket-style jewelry. I had met the other two owners of the crafting businesses. Nice ladies with established reputations in our little area of the crafting world. I crossed them off the list. I’d pick up a business card and catalog from the other two vendors and pass them to Bob.
    The resort had pushed partitions into slots in the wall, opening up three small areas to make one big cropping space. Lydia stood in the middle of the cropping floor, running a French manicured nail against her bottom lip and scanning the large area created for the croppers. The issue with the crop retreat account must’ve been easy to solve.
    Picture windows along the back of the building showed off the mountain range across the highway to perfection. It was a beautiful sight.
    I gazed at the mountains, taken in by their beauty. As a teenager, I had run from the mountains in hopes of finding something more and