The Ugly Truth (17 page)

“I even saw Stephie kissing Jake. No kidding. Right on the tonsils. So embarrassing.”

Oh great, not only was my best friend still seriously pissed at me, that slimy Greg would probably take an ad out in
The Weekly Tattler
, that cheesy tell-all paper at the checkout counter. Not the one on top, the one near the bottom of the rack.

I heard a soft sob. “I can’t believe the three of them have so little consideration for my feelings. Especially my own mother. Working for him. Do you believe that?”

I closed my eyes and finally dozed off to sleep, leaving Greg to stir the flame of Maddie’s anger. I knew I should stay awake and talk to her after they hung up, but it was late and I was tired. Maybe I’d regret ignoring the conversation, but I was tired. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with it. I hoped.

Chapter 12

“Those photos you emailed me yesterday are amazing. It’s incredible how you captured the ambiance of the pageant. I know you have a great reputation, but I didn’t expect to be so totally blown away.”

“Thank you, Mr. Costa.” Someone with my experience as a photographer shouldn’t be blushing just because of a little praise, but the happiness in the face of this small town newspaper editor gave me the warm fuzzy tingles. I’d received serious photography awards, but that was nothing compared to the pure satisfaction of seeing someone enjoy my pictures. “Here’s the disk with all the photos.”

“Thank you so much for doing this.”

“My pleasure.” Trust me, it was.

“If you ever decided you want more from life than big city antics, I’d give you a job in a heartbeat.”

I cringed at the uncomfortable pitch of my chuckle. How could an offer like that sound so good? “Wouldn’t your regular photographer be upset if you gave away his job?”

“Ace only works part-time anyway. He’s a big animal rescue person who takes pictures to support himself and his pack of dogs.”

“Yikes, I wouldn’t want to take away his income.” Just thinking about it sent guilt through my heart.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He does a lot of freelance photography while he’s on the mutt rescues. Besides, he’s one of Ugly Creek’s own, and we’ll take care of him.” The editor grinned. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to have you join our staff.”

In spite of Mr. Costa’s reassurances, I left the newspaper feeling a bit guilty. Logic told me this Ace dude wasn’t even in town. There was no way he could have covered the pageants. I had nothing to feel guilty about for helping the local paper in his absence.

Of course, I’m pretty sure Jake could have waited a little longer to get the shots for the website and brochure. So I did take that job from Ace whoever. Hey, it was for a good cause. The kids, remember? Sick kids in the hospital. Can’t argue with that. Right?

As I walked over two streets and down a block to Blackwood Antiques, my mind turned over the idea of what it would be like to stay here in Ugly Creek. No more over-priced and over-done parties. No more catching shots of politicians and their girlfriends or boyfriends or hookers. Or even politicians just being too cozy with someone of the opposing viewpoint. No more being perpetually late because more was expected from the
Spy
employees than any mortal could do in a week, much less twenty-four hours.

I took a deep breath, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle tickled my nostrils. It would be great not to smell the acrid stench of vehicles, to be able to open my window at night. To be able to relax once in a while. To not always be searching for the one big photo opportunity. The one that could propel me from
Capitol Spy
to
The New York Times
.

I stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, earning me a glare from a well-dressed woman who was walking way too fast to be a small town resident.

Of course I had The Shot. The one that could make my career. The Bigfoot. It was unthinkable, of course, the idea of using that shot. Even if it put me on top of the heap. Most photojournalists would.

But I’m not most photojournalists.

Truthfully, the whole idea made me want to vomit. What would happen to those beautiful creatures if I did manage to get the scientific community to believe? What would happen to Ugly Creek?

Whether one photojournalist made it to the big time wasn’t nearly as important as the Bigfeet and the well-being of an odd little town.

I smiled and continued walking toward Jake’s store. I’d delete the photo when I got back to Maddie’s. Until then it should be fine. I’d saved it in a locked file and made the password “Feisty”, the name of the dog I had when I was a kid, before my dad left. Who would know that, other than Brandon, of course? Ugly Creek’s secret was safe.

I pushed open the big wooden door into Blackwood Antiques and found Jake comforting a crying Margaret. My throat filled with fear as I rushed over to the counter. “What happened?”

“I’m just a big old weepy mess today. I’m sorry.”

She sat back and wiped her eyes, but Jake didn’t move from where he sat next to her, his arm around her back, his frown locked on her face. “She hurt your feelings.”

Margaret’s smile was weak, forced. “Children and parents are supposed to hurt each other’s feelings. That’s just the way things are.”

Oh boy. “What did Maddie do?”

Margaret sniffled and wiped at her nose with a tissue. “She didn’t mean it. She’s still hurting. It’s hard for a girl to lose her father.”

Jake’s gaze dropped to the counter, and I saw him swallow. “Maddie said Margaret was a traitor to her own daughter because she works for me.”

I sucked in air. This was not good. I couldn’t believe Maddie had spoken to her mother that way. Something was very wrong here, and I had a feeling Greg had a lot to do with instigating it.

“It’s okay, Jake,” Margaret said.

“No, it’s not.” Jake stood and turned away, his fists gripped, his jaw muscles clenched. “It’s me she has a problem with. She has no right to take it out on you.”

“But—”

“
No
.” Jake closed his eyes, and his entire body tensed for a moment. Then his shoulders dropped and he turned to Margaret. He gently cupped her chin with his hand. “I won’t have you dragged into this crap. If Madison has a problem with me then she should come to me.” His gaze dropped to the counter. “But we all know she’s a coward.”

Margaret’s eyes all but popped out of her head and she was on her feet before I could blink. “Jacob Blackwood! I will not have you talking about my daughter that way.”

“I’m sorry, Margaret, but it’s the truth.” With that, he stomped off into the back. I heard his footsteps as they went up the stairs and then across the floor into his apartment.

“One of these days I’m going to turn the both of them over my knees.”

Margaret stood, arms crossed tightly in front of her, glaring in the direction Jake had gone with an intensity I honestly thought would blow a hole in the back wall.

I swallowed hard and made a mental note to be careful never to get on her bad side. I was pretty sure I’d rather face down a big old hungry Grizzly than that woman when she was pissed.

And she was thoroughly pissed at the moment.

An idea that had been wandering through my head for a few days popped to the surface. It was a crazy idea, and could just as likely make things worse as to solve anything. But Maddie and I were heading back to D.C. soon. I only had a short amount of time to try to do something about the Clark-Blackwood feud. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth a try. I could at least see what Margaret had to say about it.

Ten minutes later, Margaret stared at me with a face so expressionless I was afraid I’d upset her more. Which was definitely not what I was aiming for. I shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “It was just an idea.”

Her lips slowly curled upward. “One that just might work.”

A relief wave wiped the muscle tension from my body, leaving me limp. I dropped onto the stool beside her. “You think so?”

She shrugged. “Who knows with those two, but it’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. Actually, it’s the
only
idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

She squeezed my hand. “I think we should at least give your plan a try. If you’re serious about this, then I’ll talk to Henry at lunchtime. He can help, and he has a backroom where we can set things up.”

Margaret’s enthusiasm stoked mine, and I found myself getting excited about the possibility my crazy plan might just work. “I should see Liza and Steve tonight. I’ll try to run the idea past at least one of them.” I had a gut feeling they would be willing to help.

“If everything goes okay, we can put things in motion after the parade tomorrow.”

“Works for me.” I looked at my watch and gasped. “I’d better get going. I told Maddie I’d meet her at the craft fair. If I don’t go now I won’t have time to look at anything before she gets there.”

Margaret smiled knowingly. “Crafts are not really Madison’s thing.”

“Not so much, no.” I gave Margaret a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then hurried out the door. This had to work, it just had to!

It seemed darker outside than when I’d arrived in town just a couple of hours before. The steam bath humidity made the hot day feel just that much hotter. I headed up Main Street and across Market to the courthouse square where the band played a few days before.

I couldn’t keep from taking a quick peek up at the sky but there was no sign of strange glowing objects flying overhead. What I did see were clouds that seemed to be getting darker by the minute. I checked my watch and saw Maddie was supposed to meet me in about a half hour. The warning smell of water in the air had me wondering which would be worse: the heat, or the rain. Probably it would be the increased heat and humidity after the rain ended. Sighing, I pulled out my cell phone.

Maddie didn’t answer her phone so I headed over to check out the crafts. She might have figured out rain was headed this way and was about to cut my enjoyment short.

There was an amazing variety of crafts. Crochet, needlepoint, homemade candles, wooden silhouettes to put in the yard, and the ubiquitous—but nevertheless beautiful—patchwork quilts. I smiled, remembering my grandmother Grace showing me the quilt she’d made of pieces from her children’s outgrown and tattered clothing. It was an amazing work of art, filled with memories and love. Grandma, my father’s mother, had willed it to me, and I had carefully spread it on my bed, moved beyond words by the gesture.

Two weeks later I’d come home from school to find the quilt replaced by a brand new bedspread. I’d run to find my mother and ask her what happened to my precious quilt. She said she didn’t want that cheap ugly thing in her house. It didn’t go with the décor, she’d said. She’d thrown it out. Yeah, she had a thing about what was on my bed, and I had little else to decorate. No
Pirates of the Caribbean
posters on my walls.

I’d screamed at her, knowing even as I did I’d be in trouble for disrespect but I didn’t care. She’d disrespected me, my grandmother, and my heritage. I hated her then, really, truly hated her. When my stepdad got home, he left welts and bruises but I didn’t cry. I knew I was right.

I cried for a month but never when Mom or my stepdad could see me. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

I’ve never stopped hating either of them.

“Are you all right?”

I looked up to see the quilt vendor standing beside me. I looked down and tears fell onto the quilt I was caressing. I quickly wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, I was remembering my grandmother.”

“You really miss her.”

I nodded, afraid to speak lest the tears start again.

The woman touched my arm. “Your memories keep her alive.”

I nodded again, forced a watery smile, and headed over to check out the jewelry.

I tried a couple more times to call Maddie, but she wasn’t answering. The sky didn’t seem to be getting any worse, so I threw myself into enjoying the fair. Not that it was hard, mind you. Not with all the gorgeous things on sale.

I bought a necklace and matching earrings, and a few minutes later I snagged a hand-knitted green and gold shawl that would look perfect with my green fall dress. Not practical maybe, but I loved it.

The rain blew in on a gust of wind. Hard and instantly chilling, it had people squealing and hustling to cover wares and purchases. Everybody rushed in different directions, trying either to find a dry place to wait out the storm, or their cars so they could head for home.

I sprinted down the street, finally managing to find a hidey hole in a doorway, although the overhang did little to keep out the blowing rain. I turned to face the back, pulled out my cell and tried once again to call Madison, but there was still no answer.

Thunder echoed between the canyon of buildings, and I decided I didn’t want to stand here indefinitely. I’d instinctively run back across Market to Main, so it was a short run from there to Misty Lane.

“Stephie?” Margaret said as I dashed in, bringing rain and wind with me. “My goodness, you’re soaked!”

“Jake.” She yelled, then rushed over to me. “You poor thing.”

Jake came out of the back, and Margaret turned to him. “Why don’t you take Stephie upstairs and get her some towels?”

By this time, Margaret had edged me professionally into the middle of the shop, where Jake snagged me by the arm. “Come with me,” he said.

A handful of customers eyed us, and I tried to ignore them as I was guided toward the back.

We headed up the steps, and into Jake’s apartment. “I’ll get you something to wear and put your clothes in the dryer.”

I nodded and followed him into his bedroom. The bedroom, where we’d made love just a couple of days before. I shivered, and not just from the air conditioner blowing on my wet body.

“These are way too big, but they should work until your things are dry.” He handed me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Then he walked out and closed the door behind him.