Summer Street Secrets (The Hills of Burlington Book 3) Read online

  "I have no clue." Carrie bit into a huge iced sugar cookie. It had a tang of orange flavoring to it, more than a tang. Her mother had been experimenting with cookie recipes for a couple of weeks getting ready for upcoming shows covering nothing but cookies. This had to be one of the experiments. It was good, just very, very tangy.

  "What does she like to do? Any hobbies?" He remembered the first couple of weeks with Beth. It had been like the blind leading the blind. They hadn't known each other. Knowing about each other hadn't been much help. And she'd still been deep in the throes of grieving for her parents, her mother and the only father she'd ever known. Still grieved, he knew, in the quiet of her room at night when she didn't think he could hear her cry and toss and turn through the long dark hours of the night.

  "I hate to sound redundant but I have no clue." She gave up and picked up another cookie. "I've only had her for a week or two each summer. It's not a lot of time to really get to know anything beyond the surface. We shopped. She likes shopping but who wouldn't when it's all for you."

  "Start out shopping." He took a deep gulp of his beer and helped himself to another cookie. Dinner had been a quick take out of chicken and fries and did little to fill him up. "I would think keeping her busy and her mind off what happened is going to be your best bet. Start with what you know."

  "And then what?"

  "Take her on some of those little trips you take for that store or whatever you guys have on the net." He met her steady eyes with his own without a blink. "Have your Mom give her painting lessons, I don't know. Anything probably." He shrugged as if he didn't care, as if it didn't matter, when they both knew he wouldn't be here if he didn't. "I could probably find some stuff she could do down at the paper. She's sixteen right?"

  "Just sixteen." Carrie propped her chin on her palm. "It's a horrible age. And there's nothing more horrible than other girls at that age."

  "Tell me about it."

  "What do you know?" She asked with more curiosity than heat.

  "I just spent the evening listening to my sister and Beth go into great detail about being a teenage girl and what other teenage girls do. Made me thank my lucky stars I was born a guy. Guys just don't do that shit to other guys."

  "I used to wish I'd been born a guy. That's how bad it can be." She reached over, squeezed his arm gently before picking out another cookie, swearing to herself it would be the last. "Thanks. You've given me a couple of ideas to start out with. Spending some time with Mom probably would do her good. Fact is, spending some time with Beth and Mallie trashing other girls wouldn't be a bad thought either once she gets past the rawness of it all." She leaned back in the chair, feeling better than she had since getting the call from Pamela. "I've been meaning to ask how things are going at the paper and just never seem to get to it."

  "Busy." And that was it in a nutshell he thought. And the reason he'd had a quick and unfulfilling chicken dinner that night. Almost every night for that matter.

  "Is Mark still up in DC?" His long time friend and partner at the local newspaper they'd bought from the aging owner some months ago when they'd given the man a deal he couldn't refuse. It hadn't been long after that Mark had given his notice at the news network he'd worked at for years. When Casey had literally walked out on her job as a prime-time anchor almost a year ago it had been Mark who’d found her here in Burlington where she’d fled to and was staying at that time with Mary. His reasons hadn't been completely professional. His wife had been the best of friends with Casey since they'd roomed together in college. But after Mark had located her, Terry, his wife, began researching the small community of Burlington and had fallen in love with the place sight unseen. When the situation had presented itself, the convenient mixture of Jake already being located in Burlington and the local newspaper being up for sale, the two men had gone together, along with another cousin, Mary's younger brother Dave, and bought the paper. Mark's return to Burlington had been delayed because he was still dealing, just like almost every other news media outlet, with the fallout from a series of articles Jake had written exposing rogue reporters who had written fake stories. Carrie knew that had a lot to do with Mark's decision to leave a career that didn't look anything like it had when he'd gone into it over twenty years before. She knew Jake felt much the same way. The article had been his first in years. Burned out from covering war after war after war he'd turned to writing fiction some years before and had made a huge name for himself along with a kaboodle of money to go with it. She couldn't even remember how many of his books had gone on to become movies on the big screen. Jake Kyle was known for his style and his penchant for accuracy. Which was why no one had questioned the validity of the articles exposing the worst of the worst in the news industry. She knew he’d told Mary in the early days soon after moving to Burlington that it would’ve been a heck of a novel if it weren't for the sad fact it had all been true.

  "He's getting close to where he can turn it over to the guy they finally brought in to replace him." He tapped his fingers on the table to a tune in his head that sounded suspiciously like Taps.

  "I imagine Terry’s anxious for him to get back here."

  "She's not the only one."

  "Have things been rough at the paper?" She knew there were several changes they'd implemented after taking it over. Nothing huge but she also knew even the smallest of changes in something that had been done a certain way could cause headaches and take a tremendous toll.

  "Not rough," he looked at her, "more like busy and political." He shook his head, worn from weeks of dealing with both. "I can do the busy with my eyes closed, the political drives me nuts. I don't have the patience for it. Mark's far better at it and can do it with his eyes closed." He shook his head wearily. "It'll work out. Dave's been coming in when he can to help out. He's Mr. Diplomacy himself."

  "How's his new law practice doing?" Besides owning a small part of the newspaper her cousin was a lawyer. He had bought an old house down on Third Street overlooking the river and renovated it into both his home and office. He was one of the last people she would have imagined moving to Burlington but seemed by all accounts to be thriving here.

  "We don't get into it that much but I get the gist things are going good." He smiled, reading her thoughts. "He talks a lot about the great view out his office window so I'm not certain how much real work he's getting done."

  "It is a great view."

  "Yeah. All the more reason he should have put his office in a different room." They both laughed. Jake stretched. "I need to get back. I just wanted to see how you were. How you were handling all this."

  "It's more how she's handling it all. I still can't believe her friends would do something like this to her."

  "And that's probably a huge part of what the kid's dealing with. Who did it to her." He turned at the front door, a serious look on his face, the one that made people stop and listen. "Probably one of the first things you need to get her to see is that those weren't her friends. Probably never were." He walked out into the night. Grateful that at least for this moment his own daughter was not dealing with anything close to what Carrie's young niece was.

  Carrie stood at the open door watching Jake walk down the street. His words echoing in her head. She hadn't even considered that aspect of the situation. Pamela would have, she thought. What really worried her was what Addie thought. What Addie was thinking. Sighing, she closed the door quietly. She would know soon enough.

  

  CHAPTER TWO

  Carrie stood in the kitchen. Once again she was wondering what she'd gotten herself into. She had just seen Pamela off after two days of watching her watch her daughter. She couldn't altogether blame her. Addie was quiet. Not sullen but close. Brooding was probably closer to her mood and Carrie couldn't blame her. Pamela had filled her in on the horrid details. And horrid they were. She had gone out herself and searched the web for the photos. She hadn't known how to open the video but the title image told the story. Naked teens skinny
dipping.

  And it had made her remember. And in remembering she’d called Casey. Together they'd laughed over the phone. She could hear Pete spitting questions at his new wife in the background. It had been so long ago. Another time. Literally another era. When innocent teens could do stupid things and not pay for it for the rest of their lives. Or feel like they were going to. And it was that thought that had her setting her coffee mug down on the counter.

  "Addie." She walked through the rooms on the first floor. Nothing. After checking the bedrooms upstairs she began to feel a trickle of panic. Unless the kid could walk through doors without making a sound she knew neither front nor back door had been passed through. They both creaked loud enough to wake the dead. Just as she took a step to go back down the stairs she heard the slightest of noises. Tilting her head, listening quietly, she heard it again. Bingo, she thought. She ignored the initial urge and instead went on down and into the kitchen. Minutes later with a tray holding cookies galore and two mugs of hot chocolate topped off with mounds of miniature marshmallows she opened the door that led to the back stairway. Ignoring the switch that lit the stairway she instead left the door open providing a dim glow to the area. Not even half way up she found the small hunched over figure of her niece. Her arms clutched around her knees, her head buried in the circle of her arms. Not a sound came from her but huge sobs shook her entire body. Even as her heart broke, Carrie understood the value of tears. Grief never just went away. It had to be purged.

  She set the tray down on the step above her and simply sat down beside Addie and held her close. Instead of being pushed away as she’d half expected, Addie literally pressed herself in closer clinging much as a baby would, desperately needing to be held as her emotional storm ravaged through her. Carrie rubbed her back gently, murmuring to her quietly, how much she loved her, how precious she was, all the while doubting her niece heard a word. She had no idea how long they sat there but continued to talk quietly as she rocked her from side to side. Eventually Addie's heart-wrenching sobs slowed and the tears that had soaked them both gradually subsided. Carrie gently pulled away intending to grab the tray so they could indulge in food and drink as they had so often through Addie's young life when things hadn't gone her way. But at the sight of her swollen eyes, with so much pain filling them, Carrie couldn't leave it alone. She took that precious face between her hands, ran her thumbs gently under eyes that showed how much the child suffered. "No one," she tilted her niece's head up until their eyes met and held, "no one deserves to be treated as you've been." She paused to steady her own voice, felt tears clog her throat. "One day those girls will have to look back and live with what they've done. And when that day comes, when they're still coping with who they are and aren't, you're going to be miles ahead of them." A thought came to her head and even as the words came out of her mouth she knew her mother would never hold it against her. No, her mother would egg her on if anything. "I can't change what they did but I can make them wish they'd never done it." She turned, brought the tray to sit in front of them. The hot chocolate wasn't hot anymore but she knew her niece and knew it didn't matter. She handed her the mug, cupped her shaky hands around it. "My mother always told me not to get mad. She believed that it was far better to get even. And while I don't believe in violence of any sort I also believe there are ways of getting payback without resorting to it." The eyes before hers, still wet and teary, now…finally held a glimmer of interest. "First we're going to get really busy. We're going shopping. Lots and lots of shopping. And we're going to take lots and lots of pictures while we're out shopping. You'll post those on whatever your social media place is. Let them, let everyone see that you've got better things to do than worry about their juvenile pranks." She saw the eyes begin to fill again, grabbed a cookie and feathered it against her niece's lips. Teased a smile out of her as she had since she'd been old enough to know what a cookie was. "Don't cry, baby. It's going to get better. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow or the next day, but it will. And while I'm making sure it does, we're going to make sure they never have a clue what they did to you. How much they hurt you."

  "Can you do that?" The voice was shaky, rough from misuse and tears, but it was hopeful.

  "You bet I can." Carrie handed her another cookie, her eyes taking on a thoughtful gleam. "After we do all that shopping we're going to find other ways to stick it to them, show them you're not down. And then..." she tilted that chin up, her niece was gorgeous in a fairy tale way. "Have you ever heard the name Charlie Kyle?" She watched Addie scrunch her eyes, thinking. "The artist, she does a lot of paintings of people in clothes from other times, other eras."

  "I think so. Someone said she was a famous painter." It was so hard to think of anything and not see herself in those pictures that were now all over the internet. She felt the choked sobs push their way up her chest, felt the panic fall over her like a blanket again and simply let herself be held.

  "It's okay, baby. Try not to think about it." Carrie ran her hand gently over her soft curls, the hair normally lay in waves around her shoulders but now was as ravaged as the rest of her. "She's still a famous painter. And I think she'd love to do some with you in them. Then we'll put those on the internet too. Those little nit-wits aren't going to know what hit them."

  Addie pulled back this time. She heard anger in her aunt's voice. She knew it wasn't directed at her. But she couldn't ever remember hearing her Aunt Carrie angry about anything. And according to her mother she'd had plenty of reasons to be. "How can we do that?"

  Carrie brushed loose strands of hair off her forehead before leaning over to kiss it. "Easy. Once the paintings are done we get some good photos of them then post those to every site we can find including the ones that we know for certain they'll see." Both knew without a doubt who "they" were.

  "No, I mean..." she took a breath, she understood what her aunt was trying to do. For the first time in days she saw a way of surviving. "I mean how do we get her to paint me?"

  "The bigger question will be how do we get her to stop painting you." Carrie laughed at the confused look in her niece's face. She was thrilled to see anything other than the overwhelming hurt that hadn't left it since her arrival two days ago. "She's my mother, baby. And she's going to love painting you. And by the time she's done everyone will know who you are and skinny-dipping with a bunch of other girls," she tilted Addie's face up to hers. "Who were also by the way naked as the day they were born as well," she paused, knew that meant little for now. "Anyway when people hear your name they'll be thinking of Charlie Kyle's new model and skinny-dipping simply isn't going to be a big deal. And even if they hear about it it's going to mean very, very little." She sighed. "Do you think you're the only person in the world to have gone skinny-dipping?" She watched the face fall, wished her so called friends to purgatory where they belonged. "I went skinny-dipping when I was older than you, Addie." She handed her another cookie, took one for herself. "When I was your age it was almost like a rite of passage."

  "Really?"

  "Really." She took a breath, hoped Pamela would forgive her. "I wouldn't be surprised if your mother hasn't done the same."

  "She didn't say anything."

  "Your mother's too worried about you right now to think clearly let alone speak clearly."

  "I embarrassed her."

  Carrie almost choked on the cookie she'd just bitten into. "No." She declared without any doubt. "Your mother is so angry at those girls right now. And their parents for that matter. The only reason she hasn't cut loose on them is for fear of embarrassing you any more than you've already been."

  "Are you sure?"

  Carrie heard the hope, understood the fear. "I'm absolutely positive and you should talk to your mother about it next time she calls."

  "Which could be any minute. And then any minute after that."

  "You can't have this both ways, Addie. Besides that, your Mom is worried about you. She didn't want to leave you here. I had to promise to call at the sligh
test worry. I was beginning to worry she might try to hook up live TV or something so she could keep an eye on you long distance. That's not embarrassment. That's sheer unadulterated motherly worry. There's a huge difference between the two."

  "I'm glad I'm here, Aunt Carrie."

  "So am I, baby. So am I."

  

  Expecting to leave a message on an answering machine Carrie was momentarily stunned into silence when Court answered the phone on the second ring.

  "Hello." Court repeated it again into the silence. He knew who it was and waited for her response.

  "Court, I'm sorry. This is Carrie." She waded into the quiet on the other end hating she felt like a high school girl making her first phone call to a boy. "I have a favor to ask and I can tell you upfront it's going to sound silly."

  "How about you let me decide on that."

  "Well...my niece is visiting for a little bit. It's a bit involved but I can't go into it just now..."

  He interrupted understanding she worried about saying something that might be overheard. "Mary told me a bit about the situation. I think it's next door to criminal what kids have to go through these days. I've heard stories from my own nieces and nephews that would have me yanking out their internet access if they were my kids."

  "Actually," Carrie cleared her throat, she had no idea if what she was about to ask of him was even legal. "That's right along the lines of what I was calling you about. I'm going to keep Addie pretty busy the next couple of days and I'd like to limit...really limit her access to the internet." She heard a hum of some sort from his end of the phone but had no idea what it meant. She rushed forward to explain her reasoning. "I know I can't protect her from what they've done and in the long run she’s going to have to deal with it. But for a couple of days I just really want to try to keep her from seeing it, reading about it..." She took a breath, "I just want to give her a break from it and some time to, I don't know, regroup I guess."