Beatrice Matthews here, wondering who wants to hear about a day in my wonderfully humdrum life. Thought I’d tell you a bit about today, which is not exactly ordinary. Normally. I get up and eat and take my time about getting my chores done. If I do them at all. I live alone and do what I want, most of the time. Watch the birds. Garden. Travel. Yep, I’m just back from a trip to Paris. Today, I’m going to the Mennonite Quilt Show in Harrisonburg with Cookie Crandall.
Despite myself, I like her. I’m old enough to be her grandmother, but we seem to have a lot in common. We both adore crafts and quilts and we both like to cook. But between you and me, I was very suspicious of her when I found out she doesn’t eat meat. Not only that, but she doesn’t eat or use any animal products. Talk about making life harder on yourself.
“Hey, Bea, you ready to go?” She said, smiling, when I opened my front door.
Should be a lot of fun. Of course, Cookie has brought food with her and the back seat has a huge cooler in it.
“I don’t like making other people feel uncomfortable about my choices,” she said, noticing me looking at it.
“Whatever,” I said, shrugging.
She’s told me that she doesn’t want to participate in the harming of animals, in any way. And she doesn’t preach at the rest of us about it. I like that. I’m sure she’ll grow out of all this vegan, goddess woo-woo stuff at some point.
And I have to admit she’s a hell of a cook. I never thought I’d hear myself oohing and awing over anything called “vegan” pumpkin cranberry muffins—or vegan pumpkin soup, or hell, vegan anything. Land sake. What’s the world coming to when 81-year-old Beatrice Matthews decides she like vegan food? Humph.
“I’ve got to be back by 2,” she says. “I’m keeping Elizabeth for Vera this afternoon.”
And that’s the best thing I like about her. She’s been so helpful with my daughter and granddaughter. She’s been a godsend—just made myself chuckle. I don’t think Cookie would like that. After all, she calls herself a witch and is into something she calls “the goddess.”
Sometimes, I’m a little too cynical I suppose and catch myself rolling my eyes over some of her beliefs. But it occurs to me that we all need a friend like Cookie—steadfast and true, yet thought-provoking. Oh yeah. I nearly forgot. One of the best things about Cookie is that she knows how to keep a secret. She sure has kept mine. Now, don’t ask. I sure as heck am not telling my own secret…
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About the Scrapped: (Book #2. Cumberland Creek Mysteries)
The ladies of the Cumberland Creek Scrapbook Crop are welcoming an eccentric newbie into their fold. A self-proclaimed witch, Cookie Crandall can whip up a sumptuous vegan meal and rhapsodize about runes and moon phases with equal aplomb. She becomes fast friends with her fellow scrapbookers, including freelance reporter Annie, with whom she shares shallow roots in a community of established family trees. So when Cookie becomes the prime suspect in a series of bizarre murders, the croppers get scrappy and set out to clear her name. Annie starts digging and discovers that the victims each had strange runic patterns carved on their bodies – a piece of evidence that points the police in Cookie’s direction. Even her friends begin to doubt her innocence when they find an ornate, spiritual scrapbook that an alleged beginner like Cookie could never have crafted. As Annie and the croppers search for answers, they’ll uncover a shockingly wicked side of their once quiet town – and a killer on the prowl for another victim
Meet the author
After years of working as an editor and writer for nonprofits and corporations in the DC area, Mollie gave it all up for the “glamorous” life of a stay-at-home mom and part-time freelance writer. When she moved to the Shenandoah Valley of of Virginia, she heard stories about the famous Mrs. Rowe’s Restaurant and its owner, Mildred Rowe. Intrigued, she investigated and found most of the stories were true. Two cookbooks later, Mollie turned her writing skills to penning mysteries. One of her goals as a writer, as a person, is to explore many venues, genres, and to continue to learn and grow.
She grew up in Western Pennsylvania in a rural area (Raccoon Township) just outside of mill town Aliquippa, known for its football greats. She danced, did gymnastics, and wrote all the way through her youth. She started many novels—but finished her first one when she was a senior in high school. It was called “Circles” and featured a ballerina involved with a gang.
Today, she is the mom to two daughters who both dance and write. For Mollie, writing is like dancing, breathing, and love. She doesn’t like to go a day without it.
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