Winter of Secrets Read Online Free Page A

thickly applied, dripping in the snow melting off her hair. She wore a proper winter coat, although one elbow and a seam in the right shoulder were patched with duct tape. Her boots were good, but they looked too big for the girl’s small feet. Probably from the Salvation Army. Her scarf was full of holes, but at least it protected her neck. “We’re gonna have a real Christmas,” she said. “With presents and a tree and everything.”
    “That sounds good.” And it did. Too bad the boyfriend couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pick Lorraine up and escort her to this Christmas wonderland. Although, Smith had to admit, Lorraine LeBlanc had good reasons to keep a prospective beau well away from her family.
    Particularly as Mom and Dad were spending the night in the drunk tank.
    “The sidewalks are icy, Lorraine. Watch your footing.”
    “I’ve been out after dark before.”
    “Night, Lorraine.”
    “Hey, Molly.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Merry Christmas, eh?”
    “Same to you, Lorraine. Same to you.”
    Evans came out of the shop, ripping the packaging off an Oh Henry. He stood beside Smith, watching Lorraine slipping on the icy streets. “What’d that slut want?”
    “Come on, Dave, give the kid a break. You know what her life’s like. Dawn hauled Mom and Dad off to the cells tonight. Nice family Christmas.”
    “Tough. But she’s still a cheap slut.”

Chapter Three
    “He’s not here, and I don’t know where he is. There’s nothing unusual in that. He likes to play at keeping people waiting for him.” Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth looked the girl standing in the doorway up and down, not trying particularly hard to hide a sneer. No matter: the stupid girl didn’t seem to know an insult when one scored a direct hit on her butt.
    The girl’s lanky hair and the shoulders of her second-hand coat were covered in snow. She was making a puddle on the mat at the front door.
    “You might as well go home,” Wendy said. “If, and I mean if, he comes in, I’ll tell him to call you.”
    “But…I don’t…I mean, he promised. He said he’d call before he came to pick me up. He didn’t, so I came over anyway. I figured his cell phone ran out of juice.” Her voice trailed off.
    “My brother promises a lot of things. To a lot of people. Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but he doesn’t believe promises are worth fuck all.” What she said was true, and Wendy wasn’t too bothered by the tears that welled up in the girl’s eyes, or the way her chin quivered.
    “Nonsense.” Mrs. Carmine helped the visitor divest herself of her coat. “I’m sure the young men will be back soon. In the meantime, I’ve prepared a lovely meal. You’re welcome to join us, dear.”
    Whatever. Wendy went back to the common room. Where, she had to admit, lovely was the appropriate word. A fire roared in the fireplace, spreading warmth and light. It was only gas, but was a good imitation of a real wood fire. The Balsam Fir in the corner was green and tall and fat, brimming with delicate ornaments and colored lights. The side tables held wooden decorations, small and lovingly carved, of a manger scene, an Alpine village in winter, and Santa’s workshop. Nine big red stockings, names painted on them in bright glitter, crowded the mantle above the fireplace.
    The interloper gasped at the sight. She stepped toward the mantle and reached out her hand, stopping just short of touching the stocking with her name. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice cracked.
    Wendy rolled her eyes.
    “I made one for you, Lorraine,” Mrs. Carmine said with a big smile. She was short and fat, her hair gray and badly cut, her eyes small and dark like a rat’s. She wore a red velour tracksuit covered with a white apron decorated with gingerbread people. Except for the eyes, she looked exactly as one might imagine Mrs. Claus.
    Mrs. C, as she insisted her guests call her, had gone all out to create the perfect Christmas setting.
    It would be hard not to enjoy it.
    Wendy was not