The Girl from Summer Hill (13 page)

Kit was barking orders to Josh, who was on the roof of the gazebo, a hammer in his hand. “I want no leaks!” he yelled.

Josh was his usual smiling self. “Too bad, because I always leave holes in every roof I repair.”

“Smart-ass,” Kit said under his breath as he turned and saw Casey. “Did you finally get out of bed?”

“Wow! You're in a bad mood.”

“That I am,” Kit said. “Rehearsals can't be held in the theater because there are a dozen giggling girls waiting outside to get a glimpse of Tatton.”

Casey decided that now was not the time to tell him about Stacy. In fact, she was going to make her sister break the news to him. “Send Landers back to L.A. That'll solve everything.”

“If he goes, then I'm stuck with your brother for Darcy, and he has the acting ability of that tool he's holding.”

“I heard that!” Josh called.

“I meant for you to.” Kit was gazing at Casey with steely eyes. “You look like you have something you want to say to me.”

“No, not really.” She took a step backward. “I just wanted to say that we'll all do our best to help out.” Kit's eyes were boring into hers. “I'll be around so, uh…” She turned on her heel and started to leave so quickly that she was almost running.

“Halt!”

“Damn,” she said quietly, then forced a smile as she looked back at Kit. “Need something?”

“Yes. When will Stacy be here?”

Casey could feel her entire back turning yellow—not just a cowardly stripe, but every inch going Technicolor. When—if—she lived through this, she was going to murder her sister. “She's not, uh…” She gave Kit a little smile.

“Not what?” Kit bellowed so loud that all the workmen looked at them.

“Coming,” Casey said.

“Stacy isn't going to show up?” Abruptly, Kit's stormy face calmed, and he smiled. “She's with Rowan, isn't she?”

“I've been meaning to tell you what a great name I think that is. He sounds like a hero from the olden days. I think you should call her
right this minute
and let her tell you everything.” Casey was slowly walking backward. Yes, she was definitely going to annihilate her sister.

“
You
will tell me everything,” Kit said.

Behind him were nearly a dozen people. Hammers and saws had stopped. Josh had come down off the roof. Who needed an old play to watch when they had such great real-life drama?

Casey took a very deep breath and let it all come out in one big gush. “Stacy is falling in love with some guy named Nate Thomas so she's staying in D.C. and can't do the props. But the good news is that she's turned the female costumes over to her mom's reading group and her dad is getting the clothes for the men, so you see, everything will be fine. I have to go, uh, cook something.” She turned at warp speed and started walking.

“Acacia!” Kit said in a way that made Casey stop.

Slowly, she turned toward him.

“Was it Nate
Taggert
?”

All the anger about the bad day had left Kit's face. He seemed defeated. As Casey walked toward him, she glanced at Josh. “Don't you guys have something else to do?”

“Not anything as exciting as this. Could somebody get us some water? Drinking out of the hose has lost its country appeal.”

“Sure.” Casey looked back at Kit, who had sat down on the edge of the gazebo. She sat beside him. “I'm sorry about this. We'll find someone to deal with the props. Stacy's mom—”

“Stacy is falling for the wrong man. Nate isn't right for her.”

“Oh.” What could she say to that? “Love is blind, so maybe…” She trailed off.

Kit took his phone out of his pocket, and with it came a folded brochure that he handed to her. “Stacy was to go to that tomorrow and buy things to use onstage.”

It was for an estate sale that was about a hundred miles away.

“You'll have to go instead of her.”

“I don't know anything about buying props. What would I get? What's needed?”

“Stacy has a list. Get her to send it to you. She can—” Kit moved the phone to speak into it. “Rowan, this is your father. Call me immediately.” He touched the off button. “Not that anything I say will do any good. He's as stubborn as his mother.” He turned to Casey. “Of course you can buy props. Take Tatton with you. He knows about sets.”

Casey stood up. “No, but I'll find someone. Right now I'm going to get food and water for the guys. I'll be back by lunch. If you need anything while I'm out, call me.” She started to walk away.

“Casey,” Kit said and she looked at him. “I apologize for my bad temper.”

She smiled at him. “That's okay.”

“By the way, did the caretaker find you? He asked if the peacock had done much damage inside your house and if the door was okay. He said the bird tore through the screen so he put in a new one. And oh, yes, he congratulated you on getting the creature out. He said they can be devils.” When Kit's phone rang, he looked at the ID. “The prodigal son doth call.” He clicked the phone on and took long strides to get away from everyone.

By six
P.M
., Casey gave up trying to find someone to go with her to the estate sale. Stacy had previewed the items a month before, and she sent Casey a list of everything she'd planned to buy for the production. She wrote that she'd tried hard to get the late owner's grandson to sell to her before the official sale, but he wouldn't.

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” Casey muttered, glaring at the email. She'd made half a dozen calls to her sister, but Stacy—wisely—didn't answer.

Casey had called several people and asked them to go with her. But her preference for someone with muscles and a big truck was limiting. There were two settees and six chairs on Stacy's list, plus some small tables, four boxes of knickknacks, a trunk full of old clothes, and a crate full of fabric. But Kit had everyone she knew working on the play, and no one could spare a whole day away.

Except for Landers, she thought. After the squealing girls had shown up and he'd led them away, she hadn't seen him again. Which was good, because she knew she had to say something about whether or not he'd rid her house of a berserk peacock. If he had, she might, well, owe him an apology.

When her cell rang, she grabbed it. Please, please let it be someone who can go with me tomorrow, she thought. And let them own a truck so big it could star in a Transformers movie.

When she saw Gizzy's name on the ID, her shoulders slumped. “Hi, Gizz, what's going on? You and Jack having fun?”

“Oh, yes,” Gizzy said. “He's wonderful. Fabulous. He's so smart and he's been so many places, and can we go with you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Casey's shoulders straightened. “Can you bring a truck?”

“Yes, and Jack can drive it. He's great behind a wheel.”

“I know. I've seen all his movies. Gizzy, will you promise me that you'll behave? My heart hasn't recovered from the last time I was out with you.”

“Of course. I let Jack lead in everything. Did you know that he likes motorcycles?”

“Does he know that you also like them?”

“Not yet. I have to go. Oh, I nearly forgot. Jack said to tell you that Tate is going out to dinner with us tonight, so you don't have to cook for him. And, Casey, thanks for letting us go with you to get the props. It's really difficult to go anywhere with Jack. People constantly want to talk to him about his movies. We have to hide, and poor Tate is a prisoner. He spent today alone in his house. He said he didn't want to cause anyone any problems.”

“Or maybe he didn't want to be around us,” Casey said under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She was looking at the food bubbling away on the stove. It would have been nice if she'd been told earlier that she wasn't cooking dinner. “I'll see you at seven tomorrow morning. Okay?”

“We'll be there. And thanks again.”

Casey put down her phone and looked at the food. Tenderloin with a red-wine glaze. She'd finish cooking it, then store it for tomorrow, but it wouldn't be as good. She planned to tell Tate Landers what she thought of his lack of consideration in not informing her earlier that he—

“Hello,” came a tentative voice from outside her door.

It was Devlin, and she smiled. “Come in. You wouldn't like something to eat, would you? I've been left with a full dinner and no one to share it with.”

“Stay for
your
cooking? Yes! Definitely. If it were nails on a bed of rocks and
you
had cooked it, I'd eat it.”

Laughing, she unlatched the door for him.

“I feel bad about leaving last night so I brought you something.” He handed her a small package prettily wrapped in white paper with a silver ribbon. “I hope it's all right. It's not anything new, but it did belong to my grandmother.”

She opened the gift and took out an antique tin chocolate mold. It was about the size of her hand, in two pieces, hinged on one side, with a handsome rooster in the middle. “It's beautiful,” she said. “Really lovely.” She looked at him. “But if this is something from your family, I can't take it.”

He stepped away. “That's okay. The woman I love isn't interested in cooking, so…” He shrugged.

“Do you mean Tate's sister, Nina?”

“Right!” Devlin's eyes were wide. “Don't tell me he told you about her? If he talked about his family to you, then he must think very highly of you.”

“Not at all.” She opened the oven door to pull out a tray of crisp wafers of Gorgonzola and ground piñon nuts and slid them onto a cooling rack. “Help yourself. I can't save these for tomorrow.”

“Got stood up, did you?”

“I did,” Casey said. “If you want a drink, everything's in that cabinet.”

“How about if I make you a gin and tonic?”

“Love it.” She tended to the pots on the stove.

Minutes later, Devlin handed her an icy cold, perfectly made drink.

“Thank you.”

“I need to explain about last night,” he said. “Tate came by, and I'm ashamed to say that I turned coward and ran away. It wasn't very manly of me. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I understand. But I think you should explain to Olivia what happened. She found me sleeping on the couch and didn't like it.”

“Now I am
very
sorry! After all the therapy I've had, I'm still scared of what that man can do to me. I just want my daughter and…” He trailed off. “I'm sure you don't want to hear about my life. Can I help you do something? Mash potatoes, maybe? I'm no cook like Tate is, but I can beat the heck out of spuds—if they're soft, that is.”

She turned to him. “I didn't know he could cook.”

“Didn't you know that Tate Landers can do anything? He can act, he can cook, he can memorize lines at one reading. Hell! He can even
sing.
The rest of us mortals don't have half his talents.”

“Would you please open the bottle of wine by the sink? You wouldn't know what happened to my wineglass from last night, would you? It's part of a set that was a gift.”

“No, I don't. It was on the table when I left. You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't dare wake you, and besides, I was hurrying out the front to escape Tate's wrath. You don't think he— No, no, of course not. He's not a thief. Now I realize that I should have stayed here to protect you.”

Casey was stirring the glaze and frowning. “He was in my bedroom yesterday and I think he was chasing a peacock out. Kit said—”

Devlin gave a derisive snort. “That doesn't sound like him.”

Casey began to plate the food. “Why don't we sit down and have our meal and not so much as mention Tate Landers?”

“I'd love to do that. It's just that usually, when people hear who my ex-brother-in-law is, he's all they want to talk about.” He held out a chair for her.

“Not me,” Casey said.

“I'm very glad to hear that.” He smiled so warmly that she couldn't help returning it.