Jack didn’t seem to hear her. “She’s trying out for Jane, and of course she’ll get the part.” He hesitated. “I was thinking I might audition for Bingley.”
“What a great idea,” Casey said. “Have you asked Kit yet?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t like it. He said some L.A. guy will call me and I’ll fly away and leave them hanging. But I’m free until September and I could stay at Tate’s house.” He gave Casey a pleading look. “You’ll cook for me? Fill that big shiny box in the kitchen?”
“I could do that.” Casey tried to sound as innocent as she could manage. “If you can persuade Kit, that is. Hey! I have an idea that might help your case. If you have some L.A. publicity people, maybe you could get them to promote the play. Tell Kit they’ll do it for free. After all, it is for charity.”
“Brilliant idea,” Jack said. “I’ll make some calls and get it done. Wish me luck.”
“I feel in my heart that Kit will consent to give you the role.”
Smiling, Jack went back to where Gizzy was waiting for him.
Olivia was shaking her head. “I’m worried whether you and your co-conspirator are going to get into heaven.”
“I think He forgives more when it’s for charity. Besides, who knows? Maybe Jack and Gizzy will be a match.”
Casey and Olivia looked at each other. A lot of men fell for Gizzy’s outward beauty, but when they got to know her, they were turned off. She was a fearless daredevil inside the body of an angel. “Nah,” they agreed. “It won’t happen.”
At quarter to ten, the auditions began. The first was to be for the role of Lydia. Casting the part would get rid of twenty-some giggling, excited girls—and a few women who thought they could still pass for fifteen.
Kit, who would direct the play, told the girls that although the part of Lydia didn’t have a lot of lines, it had to be believable that she had something about her that would attract an older man. True, she was giddy and frivolous. “But then, we men tend to like that,” he said in such a suggestive way that everyone laughed.
All the girls with LYDIA on their badges went backstage, and as their turns came, they were helped into the high-waisted, low-cut dresses of the Regency era. Since the man playing Wickham was in costume, the girls would be too.
The first up was a local girl, a senior in high school, who was the head cheerleader and very popular. What she did and wore were constant topics of conversation among the girls at her school. The gossip was that three girls had dropped out because they were sure she’d get the role.
But she was awful! Olivia and Casey stood in the back, watching in horror as the girl showed what she thought was sexy. She played Lydia like a forty-year-old vamp from a black-and-white movie. All that was missing was a cigarette dangling from her lips.
When she finished, Kit graciously thanked her and she left the stage, smiling as though she knew she had the role.
Josh was standing by the food tables. “You have any more—?”
“Help yourself.” Casey looked at Olivia. In silent agreement, they hurried down the center aisle to sit in the row beside Kit, who was behind a temporary desk.
“Did you come to watch a catastrophe?” Kit said under his breath.
“Oh, yes,” Casey said. “So far it’s more exciting than Jack Worth’s last movie. Did you accept his offer of free publicity?”
“Of course. Next!” he said loudly, then removed an envelope from his pile of papers, reached across Casey, and handed it to Olivia.
She opened it, began to pull out a photo, then quickly put it back inside.
“What’s that?” Casey asked.
“Nothing.” Olivia’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, on the stage.
Kit was also looking at the stage, where a girl was waiting. “Begin.”
The second audition was as bad as the first. The girl stuttered over her lines and tripped on her skirt.
“My kingdom for some popcorn,” Casey said.
It took two hours to get through all the auditions. They were mostly bad. The girls couldn’t seem to disassociate real life from the character they were playing.
As for the man—Casey learned his name was Devlin Haines—he was excellent. No matter how many times he said his lines, they were always with feeling.
“Studied in New York,” Kit said when Casey asked about him. “Gave up acting when he got married and had a kid. Said he needed the security of a regular job.”
“Married?” Casey’s voice showed that she didn’t like that news.
“I believe he is now divorced.”
“Interesting.” Casey turned her attention back to the next audition. This Lydia—who was thirty if she was a day—said, “Shouldn’t we kiss? That would make the scene more believable.”
“Not in Austen,” Kit said. “But maybe next time we’ll do Fanny Hill.”
“What’s that?” she asked, but Kit didn’t answer. Olivia and Casey had to bend forward to hide their faces so their laughter couldn’t be seen.
By noon everyone was hungry and wanted a break, but Kit said there was one more girl they should see.
The girl who’d taken the pastry and juice came onstage. She had on the costume but wore a big cardigan over it, and she still looked so shy that they wondered if she’d speak.
“You’re Lorraine Youngston?” Kit asked.
“Yes, and it’s Lori Young,” she answered rather timidly.
“She’s spending the summer with her grandmother at the lake,” Kit said to Casey and Olivia, then louder, “Begin, please.”
Lori took her time removing her sweater and putting it on a chair. The stage hadn’t been fully set but there were a few Regency-style props scattered about.
For the audition, Kit had written a scene that wasn’t in the book and wouldn’t be in the play—it was the first time Lydia and Wickham were alone.
Everyone watched as Lori walked across the stage to stand in front of Devlin. Then she changed. In a flash, she went from shyly slumping to shoulders back, her chest stuck out. When she smiled at Devlin, for a moment he seemed to lose his composure.
Her quick change in personality was similar to what Jack had done earlier. Casey looked at him, standing against the wall, and mouthed, “Like you.” Nodding in agreement, Jack gave a thumbs-up.
Lori’s performance was mesmerizing. She smiled and laughed—and tempted. Devlin, who had been so in charge in all the other auditions, so perfectly in control, twice stumbled over his lines.
When Lori finished, she abruptly put her concealing sweater back on, resumed her shy expression, and stood there looking at Kit.
He took a moment, then said, “Thank you, Lydia. Shall we break for lunch?”
Lori left the stage, smiling in a quiet, unassuming way.
As they were serving lunch, Casey realized that she’d left six pies on the counter at her house. They were already having to supplement with food and desserts from local stores, so they needed the pies. Besides, she’d promised some people a slice of her berry custard pie.
She saw that Gizzy and Jack were sitting close together in a corner, full plates on their laps. She asked him if she could borrow the truck and said, no, there was no need for him to drive her there and back.
Jack handed her the keys and as she headed for the door, Casey told Olivia that she’d be back in a few minutes.
Tate put his head back against the leather seat of the car and closed his eyes. Could this day possibly get any worse?
When he’d awakened early this morning, after a night of flopping around in bed, he knew he had to face his demons head-on. Even though it wasn’t yet full light, he knew he must go outside and look around. It’s what his sister, Nina, had been telling him to do for years.
Just three months ago, she’d again started in on him. “You spent all that money restoring the place but you’ve never even seen it. You have to go. Today. Now.”
“I know.” Tate was looking out the glass wall of his L.A. home. “I should go for
a visit.”
“Right!” his sister said. “Mom would have wanted you to spend time there. She—”
“Nina!” Tate cut her off. “I know all of this. You don’t have to remind me.”
She calmed down. “Stacy and Kit have done a magnificent job of restoring the house and garden. Emma and I love the place! It’s so beautiful and peaceful. And everything Mom told us about is there. The barn, the pond, the chicken house. All of it. Remember the sour clover?”
“Of course,” Tate said softly. “I remember everything.”
“And Stacy did a great job of bringing Mom’s little house up to date.” Nina lowered her voice. “The old shower is there. Remember the story of the kids coming in from the pond and showering off outside?”
“And the tadpoles clinging to them,” Tate said. “I remember, and I promise that I’ll be there soon after you and Emma arrive. I bet the weather there is nicer than in Massachusetts.”
“No,” Nina said firmly. “You need to spend some time there by yourself.”
“Does that mean you filled a room full of tissues for all my tears?”
Nina didn’t laugh. “It won’t be that bad. I promise. Once you’re there, everything will be fine. You’ll see the source of all the old stories. And you’ll see what Stacy and I chose for the house. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“Are there red flowers on the chair in the living room?”
“Of course,” Nina said. “I sent you a fabric sample, remember?”
“Yeah, I do. Maybe Jack can go with me.”
“That’s a fabulous idea! Jack is always cheerful and he’ll make you laugh. And Stacy stocked the house. She told me about going to a big warehouse store and filling the truck with supplies. There are paper towels, dishwashing detergent, and everything for the washer and dryer. You do remember how to use them, don’t you? You haven’t become such a big-deal movie star that you can no longer wash your own socks, have you?”
“I leave being a princess to Jack.”
“I dare you to say that to him.” Nina was beginning to sound relaxed.
“So how’s Emmie, my beautiful and divine little niece?” He knew that mentioning her would change the subject.
That conversation had been months ago and now he was here—and every bad thing he’d predicted was coming true. He was in a car in the garage of the huge old house and everything had gone wrong. First there’d been the pajama woman this morning, then finding that there was no food in the house, and Jack was saying he was going to leave.
And that was the good part of the day! This morning he went upstairs to read a script that his agent had sworn was different from his usual movies. “No more sulking, sullen heroes,” she’d said. “This is an action film.”
When he started to read it, Tate had been smiling. But the “action” consisted of driving a six-horse carriage down a rough road at midnight in pursuit of a young actress who had nothing more to recommend her than a giant, artificially produced bosom. He’d met the girl and she had the IQ of a rabbit.
When he’d finished the script, he tossed it across the room. It was time for lunch, his stomach was growling, and he was ready to call a helicopter service to come and get him. But first he had to get something to eat!
When he got to the garage, he saw that the pickup truck he’d bought was gone. Parked beside its spot was a new BMW, and the keys were on a hook by the door.
But the damned car wouldn’t start. He took a moment to think about how everything about this place had been a lie, then he picked up his cell and called his sister.
When Nina saw Tate’s name on the phone’s caller ID, she didn’t want to answer it. She knew all this was difficult for her big brother, but she also knew she wouldn’t help by babying him. When their mother died, Tate had taken her death very hard. Since he was nine, he’d helped support his mother and sister with his acting. And he’d always promised them that someday he’d make enough money to buy back Tattwell, the plantation that had been in their family for centuries.
But that hadn’t happened while their mother was alive. She never got to see Tate’s great success, and it was only after her death that he’d been able to buy the plantation.
After he bought the place, Nina and Emmie spent a lot of time there. Nina oversaw the restoration and Emmie explored the grounds. Nina hired a local interior designer, Stacy Hartman, to decorate the house as close as possible to what their mother had described to them. With Kit’s help—and his memories of the place—furniture, wallpaper, paint, light fixtures were all put back the way they had been when Ruth Tattington was a girl.
Nina’s problem had been getting her brother to visit the place. He’d been in one movie after another, filming in several countries, and he’d used that as an excuse not to go to the plantation.
She knew Tate dreaded the memories that Tattwell would bring to the surface and also that he was angry at himself for not having been able to buy it sooner. But Nina also knew that the only way for Tate to let go of the past was to see the place.
It had taken a lot of work on her part to get Tate to promise that when he finished his last movie—in which he played yet another angry, brooding man—he’d spend a whole month at the plantation.
Nina refused to go with him because she knew that with her and Emmie there, Tate would stay with them and never venture out into the pretty little town of Summer Hill, Virginia. She’d even told Stacy that under no circumstances was she to put any food in the house. Maybe hunger would force Tate out to meet people.
And, well, okay, what Nina especially wanted was for her brother to meet Stacy, the decorator. The pretty blonde young woman was smart and funny and had a good outlook on life. She was exactly what her brother needed.
Taking a breath, Nina reached for her phone to answer her brother’s call, but then the ringing stopped, and she smiled. Her six-year-old daughter, Emma, was home ill from school today and she was as restless a patient as Tate was. Nina had been up most of the night with her, and right now she had to see what her daughter needed.
When Tate’s call to his sister went to voicemail, he gritted his teeth. “Just so you know,” he said from his end, “that girl, Stacy, left only coffee. No food. I’d go get some—if this two-bit town has a restaurant, that is—but Jack took the truck and the car is dead. I’m starving but I have no transportation. And by the way, the new script my agent sent me is worse than the last two I got. Why can’t I play a villain in a Batman movie? Jack’s leaving tomorrow and I’m going with him. After I spend a few hours helping Kit find someone to play Elizabeth, that is. Then I’m free to get out of here. Call me when you can.” He clicked off.
He got out of the car and pushed the button for the garage door. He was sure his sister was avoiding him, and he knew why. He’d promised her that he’d give the place a chance and he wanted to be able to say that he’d done that, but it wasn’t easy. Look what had happened to him on his first excursion onto the property!
As the door went up, Tate was greeted with the sight of a truly gorgeous garden. Huge old trees shaded a pretty brick path that disappeared through tall shrubs that were beginning to flower.
Just as he knew it would, his mother’s voice came to him as she used to describe the flowering bushes. “Pink for Letty and white for Ace,” she’d say as she snuggled in bed between her two children. Nina often fell asleep, but Tate always asked to hear more about his mother and her childhood friend, Ace. And too, Tate liked that his mother’s stories told of a time when the Tattington family had owned acres of land and had been senators and governors. “I want to hear about Ace saving the house from burning down,” he’d say.
As she told the story yet again, he’d fall asleep, then she’d carry Nina to her own bed. From the time he was a kid, Tate said, “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like Ace.”
The idea of becoming Ace had strongly influenced his becoming an actor. He liked the thought of pretending he was someone else.
Nina hadn’
t given him the caretaker’s number, but if he could find the man’s house, maybe he could get a ride into town or to the auditions. Pulling out his phone, he kept walking as he tapped out a text message to his assistant in L.A. He asked her to make plane reservations for Jack and him for tomorrow. AND HAVE A CAR DELIVERED HERE, he added, then sent the message.
He would return to L.A. and do what he could to get a role that was different from what he’d been doing for the last few years. Maybe he could get a part in the second Avatar movie. It would be nice to be tall and blue. Or how about a horror film? Or maybe Disney had—
He broke off when he looked up and saw that he was just a few feet from the pretty pajama girl’s house. To his shock, the whole bottom of the screen door was torn out. There was a smaller hole in the upper half. He remembered doing that one, but had he been so angry that he’d also kicked in the bottom?
His cell rang. It was Nina and he touched the button to take the call. “Why did no one tell me some girl was living in Mom’s house?”
“And good morning to you too,” Nina said. “Maybe Stacy is staying there. Blonde, blue-eyed, and as pretty as a doll?”
“No, and stop trying to fix me up. This one is tall, red hair, really built. And she cooks. Or I think she does. She had no idea I own the place. I’m not sure she’s ever seen me before.”
“Good!” Nina snapped. “But if I’d known you wanted a fan staying in there, I would have advertised in The Hollywood Reporter.”
“I don’t want—” He let out his breath. “Okay, right, there’s no reason she should know, but if I’d been told, I wouldn’t have…I certainly would have thought twice before I…”
“What did you do?”
“Took a shower on the porch.”
“Oh,” she said. “Like Letty and Ace used to do? In a swimsuit?”
“Didn’t have time to dress,” Tate mumbled.
“You mean you had no time to put on a suit? So what did you do? Shower naked on her front porch?”
The Girl From Summer Hill Page 4