The Girl from Summer Hill (11 page)

“Casey?” Olivia looked down at the sleeping woman on the couch and worked to keep from frowning. It wasn't any of her business what Casey did in the privacy of her own home. “I don't mean to disturb you, but people are arriving, and…” She gave a quick glance at Casey's disheveled state.

Casey winced at the crick in her neck. Olivia, clean and coiffed, was standing in her living room.

“Are you all right?”

“Sure.” Casey sat up, feeling stiff, with aches all over her body. She had that swollen feeling from having slept in her clothes. A bra strap was cutting into her skin. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine,” Olivia said. “I didn't mean to intrude, but I knocked several times. I could see your foot and when you didn't move I got worried. Mind if I ask why you slept on the couch? If it's a hangover, I can get you some aspirin. Or if someone is upstairs I'll leave.”

“No hangover. I only had half a glass of wine, but after the day we had, it was enough to do me in. I fell asleep on the table, and I woke up about midnight. I meant to go up to my bed but I couldn't manage the stairs, so I flopped here. What time do rehearsals begin? I need to start cooking.”

“That's why I'm here. The stage manager called me to say there will be no rehearsals today, but there's a lot of work going on and you're needed. It seems that it's been posted on the Internet that Tate Landers is going to play Darcy. People have started camping out in the parking lot. We can't work there.”

When Casey rubbed her eyes, her hands came away with dark streaks. She hated sleeping in makeup. “Someone should tell them that it's not true.”

“I think it is. Gossip is that Tate is staying, with his friend Jack, and since his sister is coming to visit, he said he might as well be in the play.”

Casey stood up and stretched her back. “So who's going to play Elizabeth?”

“Last I heard, you are. If so, I'm sure your excellent performance yesterday is a big part of why Tate wants to stay. You challenge him as an actor.”

“I'd like to challenge him with a crossbow,” Casey muttered, then looked at Olivia. “I need to take a very long shower and— Oh, no! I forgot Jack's breakfast.”

“I saw him on the way here and he said he's going out with Gizzy.”

“Alone?”

“I got the impression they were meeting someone. I don't think they've been alone yet.” Olivia glanced through the doorway at the kitchen. “I'm still curious as to why you were sleeping on the couch. There are two place settings on the table. Didn't your dinner companion help when you fell asleep?”

“I guess it wasn't very flattering to him when I put my head down on the table and dozed off. Poor guy.”

Olivia didn't smile. “I would have thought Tate had better manners than that. He should have helped you—”

“I didn't have dinner with Landers. I was with Devlin Haines. You know? The guy playing Wickham?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't know you'd met him. Is he new in town?”

“He's here only temporarily. He's Landers's ex-brother-in-law. You should hear his horror story! Or better yet, not hear it. Anyway, Devlin came to Summer Hill hoping to see his daughter, who is Landers's sister's kid. I bet that man is staying here all summer just to keep Devlin from seeing his own child.”

“That's a strong accusation,” Olivia said. “Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower? Or soak in the tub? I know I did last night. Your hair is a mess. Elizabeth doesn't deserve that.”

“If Landers is Darcy, I am absolutely
sure
that I am
not
going to play Elizabeth! After what Devlin told me yesterday, I never want to see Tate Landers again. In fact, I may move off his property.”

“Good idea,” Olivia said. “I hear that Pizza Hut needs a new head chef. Or maybe you can cater weddings this summer—as soon as you spend weeks trying to find a kitchen you can use.”

Casey was blinking at her. “You're sounding like my mother.”

“I am honored. Now, go!”

“Yes, ma'am.” Smiling, Casey ran up the stairs.

Olivia was frowning as she cleaned up Casey's kitchen. The dinner table still had bowls and platters with the remnants of what looked like it must have been a delicious meal. The unrefrigerated food had to be thrown out, and she didn't like waste. There was a half-empty wineglass but no bottle. Where was the other glass? And the candles had burned down to the base.

It looked like the guy playing Wickham had just walked off. Casey, exhausted from the long day, had fallen asleep, and he must have grabbed a glass and the wine and left her there. He hadn't so much as blown out the candles.

“Hello.”

She looked up to see Tate standing outside the screen door.

“I don't mean to bother anyone, but Jack left my truck here when he gave Casey a ride home. The keys aren't in it, so they must be inside, and I need to go get some food.” His voice was tentative, sounding apologetic.

Olivia opened the door to him, but he didn't step inside.

“I just need the keys.”

“I don't know where they are. Casey is upstairs, but she'll be a while. Come in and I'll make you some breakfast.”

“Would you?” There was gratitude in his voice.

His exaggerated meekness annoyed her. “Yes, and if Casey starts to come downstairs I'll help you escape out the window. I think she's after you with a crossbow.”

Tate groaned. “Has she heard that I'm staying for the whole summer?” He sat down on a stool.

“Yes, she has.”

“And?”

“She says she will not play Elizabeth and I think she's going to move out and get a job at Pizza Hut.” Olivia was cracking eggs into a hot skillet while bacon fried in another one.

Tate hung his head and let out a sigh. “Sounds like she's been listening to my ex-brother-in-law. No matter what I do, I cannot rise above his accusations of me. But then, my honor won't allow me to disparage the father of my beloved niece.”

“Hmmmm,” Olivia said as she dropped bread into the toaster. “ ‘Disparage' is too much and definitely don't use the word ‘honor.' Too old-fashioned. And tilt your head a little less to the side. You're much too pretty to pull off such deep despair.”

When Tate laughed, his voice changed completely. The misery was gone. “Oh, no! Not another actor. I thought I'd be able to escape the breed here in Small Town, Virginia.”

“No, we're here.” She put a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him. “Now go choose a jam and tell me the truth of what's going on.”

Tate got up and went to the rows of pretty jars of jam, but he hesitated. “If I take one of these she'll accuse me of stealing.”

Olivia went around the island, grabbed a jar, and put it by his plate. “Wimpy men
never
win the girl.”

Tate sat back down and picked up the jar. “Nectarine with lemon verbena. My favorite. I have it every morning. What makes you think I'm trying to win her?”

“Puh-lease. Yesterday you fooled everyone else, but I was on Broadway before you were born. You acted by rote. Half the time you didn't even look at whichever girl was drooling over you. Instead, you kept stealing glances at Casey and me. Since I don't think I was the one you were getting into a slow boil over, it must be Casey. So what's going on with you and the ex-brother-in-law?”

“If I tell you, you won't rat on me, will you?” He sounded serious.

“This will be between us.”

Tate took a bite, nodded, and lowered his voice. “Devlin Haines is a bastard. I assume he's here to try to get more money from me. Emmie, my niece and his daughter, probably told him she and her mom were going to be here this summer. No doubt Haines decided to come here to sweet-talk my sister into finagling extra money out of me. It's worked in the past, so why not try it again?”

Tate lowered his voice even further. “I'm a little concerned that he also saw me, uh, looking at Casey, and that's why he's going after her.”

“To get back at you?”

“That's my guess. But I could be wrong. Maybe he's developed a genuine liking for her. I know they had dinner together last night, so maybe—” His head came up, alarm on his face. “Is he upstairs? Did they spend the night together?”

Olivia smiled, glad to see a real emotion. No acting but a genuine look of…what? Horror? Fear? She couldn't tell if he was on the verge of slamming out the door in a rage or running up the stairs and throwing his ex-brother-in-law out the window. “No, he's not upstairs. In fact, it seems that Casey fell asleep during the dinner and your sister's ex left her there. Her head in the soup, so to speak. In my day—”

“The man would have carried her up the stairs. I would have.”

“That's nice to hear. So what are you going to do to get her to forgive whatever you did in her bedroom yesterday morning?”

“I chased a peacock out,” he said, “but there's no way she'd believe that. And if I told her the truth about Emmie's dad, she wouldn't believe that either. How do you disprove something that a person is absolutely
sure
is true? Casey has made up her mind about me, and I don't know how to change it.”

“That is a tough one. My advice would be to let her spend time with your ex-brother-in-law and stay out of it. They'll have some great bed romps and eventually, in a year or two, she'll figure out that he's a cad. Afterward, she'll be so down she'll finally look at an unattractive, cowardly guy like you. Problem solved.”

Tate blinked a few times, then laughed. “You have to meet my sister. You two will get along well. No advice for me?”

“None at all.” She leaned across the island toward him. “I don't know either of you young men, so I'll have to decide which of you to give the most votes to, but right now you are ahead in the polls. I don't like that the Wickham guy went off and left Casey to find her way to the couch. He should have—”

“I sent the wine,” Tate said, sounding sheepish. “I sent two bottles because I hoped he'd drink too much and I knew she'd had a long day and…” He shrugged.

Olivia laughed. “Clever use of your enemy's weakness, and that gets you another vote. Uh-oh.”

There was a step on the stairs and Tate immediately stood up. “I better go.”

“Who's going to cook for you all summer? And don't you have trouble learning lines?”

“Actually, I'm not a bad cook. I had a single mother, so it was necessary. And I have a bit of a photographic memory. At least for lines, anyway. I can—”

Olivia was glaring at him.

“Oh.”

She picked up her handbag and went to the door. “Be nice and don't do the wounded-hero act. You're not onscreen. Got it?” She waited for Tate to nod before she hurried out the door.