Murder Goes Glamping: A Piper Haydn Piano Mystery: A Small Town Amateur Sleuth Cozy Mystery Series (Piper Haydn Piano Mysteries Book 2) by Malissa Chapin Signed by the Author (Paperback)

None of this would have happened if Rosie hadn’t made me go glamping.

Thursday

Piper Haydn rode in the passenger seat of Rosie’s vintage VW van and held on for dear life. Her legs melted into the hot sticky vinyl seat, and she bounced as the van chugged along highway 41. Piper glanced at the map app. “Are we there yet, Rosie?” she whined.
Rosie grinned and glanced in the rearview mirror before changing lanes. “Come on now, don’t you start whining like a little kid. This is fun. We’re having fun. Let’s play the alphabet game.”
Piper shook her head. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this Roosevelt Hale.”
Rosie's laugh filled the van, and she smiled. "I'm so glad I did. We're going to have the best time. I wouldn’t want anyone else for my first glamping guest.”
Rosie switched the radio to a country station and sang her heart out to some song about a lost pup. Her earrings jingled while she belted out the lyrics and a pink blush rose up her cheeks.
Piper loved her childhood friend dearly, but this trip stretched the limits of friendship. She still didn’t quite understand when she’d agreed to go glamping with Rosie, but here she was bopping up the highway to Door County in the vintage van—redone as a glamper.
"You have to admit Kennedy, and I did a good job in here,” Rosie said.
Piper turned around and glanced around the space behind her. A tiny yellow table perched in the middle of the van painted with Rosie's signature flowers in robin’s egg blue. Rosie had redone the bench seats in a cheery yellow vinyl with white piping. The seats folded down into beds for sleeping spaces, and a tiny counter ran along the other side with a camper-sized fridge and a sink almost large enough to set two plates inside. A white and blue crocheted throw spread across the bench added a cozy touch. The blue gingham curtains Rosie had sewn hung from the windows over the top of the window shades. Rosie's brothers Truman and Harrison had laid down new flooring in a blue and white checks. Her brother Lincoln painted the van and refinished the chrome at his auto body shop. The gear and their luggage rode on top of the van piled high in a zip-top carrier tied down somehow.
Piper hadn’t watched Rosie pack everything on top. She had sat inside her house chewing her fingernails and resisting the urge to throw up.
“I will admit that. You and your presidential siblings worked a miracle in here,” Piper said, remembering the moldy fabric and stale smells that had assaulted her senses the first time Rosie showed her the van. “You should have let them come along for your inaugural trip.”
Rosie shook her head. “Nope. There’s not enough room for my big old family. Besides, the date of the glamping fest matched perfectly with your piano teacher conference.” She reached over and patted Piper’s leg.
Piper smiled but couldn't shake the unease. The Haydn's idea of roughing it was staying in fine hotels and dining in establishments with a chef. Piper couldn't remember the last time her family had lit a fire in their patio fireplace, much less a time when they cooked over the fire or slept outside.