At first, Tate had made the mistake of thinking his brother-in-law was like him. When Tate had been out of work and frantically searching for acting jobs, he’d waited tables, tended bar, driven a truck. “Really?” Nina said at the suggestion. “You expect Devlin to do that? Can’t you see the tabloids? There’d be a big photo of Tate Landers’s impoverished brother-in-law washing dishes.”
In the end, Tate had “invested” in a TV show, with the stipulation that Devlin Haines play the lead. After her husband got the role, Nina had been jubilant. She and Emmie at last had a chance at being part of a normal, happy family.
And for a while, Tate had also been content. He was shooting on location, and every night he thought of his family’s perfect little life and how Haines was now supporting them. It made him feel good that he’d been able to give it to them. When he talked to Nina and Emmie via Skype, there’d been nothing but smiles and gratitude.
Then one of the show’s producers had called him with the complaints. Haines was drinking on the set, groping every female. He was belittling the other actors onscreen and off. He was the star. He was the reason they had a job. Worst of all, with every episode, his performances got more wooden.
“Nobody can stand him,” the producer told Tate. “Last time I was on set he told me to go get him some coffee. We would all put up with him if his attitude didn’t carry over onto the screen. Did you see the TV Guide quip about the man’s ego eating up the script? Devlin Haines has become a joke! Tate, as much as I respect you, you can’t—”
“How about if I do a couple of episodes?”
“Yeah?” the producer said. “Can I announce that to the press?”
“Sure,” Tate said. “Just give me twenty-four hours to break it to my manager. I’m sure you’ll hear her screams.”
But even that hadn’t been enough. At the beginning of the second season, Haines’s behavior and acting were so bad the writers killed him off in an attempt to save the show. But it was too late. By that time the whole series had become a punch line to late-night comics.
Tate wished he could have paid Haines to get out of their lives, but the man was Emmie’s father, so Tate felt he had to back off. As part of the divorce, Tate agreed to support the freeloader for a few more years, the case to be reviewed later. But now what? As far as Tate could tell, the man had made no attempt to get a job.
He could almost hear Haines telling Emmie, “I can’t get a job because your uncle Tate won’t let me, so I’m living out of my car.”
As Tate stood in the tall bushes, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he’d heard that Haines was in Summer Hill, he’d been shocked, but at the same time he knew he should have expected him. He was sure the man was there to get to Tate’s bank account through Nina, and probably through Emmie. But they weren’t here yet, and his rehearsals weren’t until next week, so why was Haines skulking around in the bushes now?
Tate ran his hand over his face. There was no use trying to figure out the way Haines thought. All Tate knew for sure was that the man had been sneaking around Casey, no doubt gaining sympathy from her. He had a knack for making women feel sorry for him.
Whether Haines was up to something fairly innocent, like trying to win Casey away from Tate, or if he was taking photos to use for blackmail, Tate didn’t know. What if there were pictures of him and Casey naked in the well house? Tate knew he’d pay to keep them out of the press. He wouldn’t want Casey embarrassed that way.
As he looked through the shrubs, he saw that the stage was quiet. Olivia was to one side, sitting on a chair they’d bought at the estate sale and reading the script. Kit was at the bottom of the stairs, talking to the caretaker. No one else was about.
Tate saw a movement behind the stage. It was just a flash and it could be the peacock, angry to have so many people on the property, but it could be something else.
Feeling a bit ridiculous at sneaking around on his own land, Tate circled the gazebo while staying hidden. Twice he saw broken branches, as though he wasn’t the first one who’d walked through there.
At the back corner of the gazebo was a trellis covered with dense honeysuckle vines. It was so thick that it blocked that corner of the stage from sunlight, and from view. A person onstage couldn’t see through it.
Standing in the shadows was Devlin Haines. Silently, Tate walked up behind him. “Stay away from her,” he said.
Devlin turned and there was a second of surprise, but then his face calmed and he gave his small smile, as though he was in control. “I have no idea who you mean. Jack’s hot little blonde number?” His phone was in his hand and he held it up for Tate to see. It was a photo of Gizzy with her arms around a fireman, kissing him on the mouth. “This was taken two days ago. I thought maybe Jack would like to frame it so I sent you a copy.”
Tate was inches taller than Devlin, and as he used his height to glare down his nose, he did his best to ignore the photo of Gizzy. “I want to know what you’re up to. What lies have you been telling about me?”
“How do I know what are lies? You kicked me out of my own family, remember?”
“The chocolate mold from your grandmother? You hardly know who your mother is.” Tate leaned forward. “If you hit Nina up for money, I’ll get lawyers on you.”
“So they can take away everything I own?” Devlin shot back. “You already did that. How’s it going to look to the press if famous, rich you sues someone as broke as me? And don’t forget that I’m the father of your niece, who you love being photographed with.”
“You always twist things around to your advantage.”
Devlin smiled again. “I’m just trying to earn a living, that’s all. You help me out, and my daughter will give you all that great family publicity that you need. I especially liked seeing you with her at Disney World. You two looked so cute together.”
Tate’s hands were forming into fists. “Why are you stalking Casey?”
“She’s one juicy morsel, isn’t she? And not a bad cook. I’ve seen you two crawling through the bushes. What’s she like in bed?”
When Tate raised his fists, Devlin stepped back and put his hands up, palms out.
“Aggressive, aren’t you?” he said, still smirking. “I bet the police would love to hear that I came to this adorable town because my daughter was coming. And I volunteered my professional services to help in a local play. But what happened was that my rich, famous ex-brother-in-law showed up and hit me. No reason. Just punched me in the face. Wait until dear, sweet little Emmie hears what her uncle Tate did to her daddy.”
Tate dropped his fists, but his anger stayed. “What do you want from Casey?” he repeated.
Devlin hesitated, as though he was deciding whether or not to answer that question. His eyes turned dark. “I’d like to take everything away from you, exactly as you’ve done to me. A few more tears from me and I’ll have her clothes off.”
“You—” Tate began as he stepped forward. But a voice from the stage above them stopped him. Someone was behind the screen of vines.
Tate didn’t want someone seeing them arguing, then innocently sending out a text message that would alert the media. In a lightning-fast move, Tate grabbed the man in a choke hold and held him just tight enough that he couldn’t speak. “Not a word!” he said.
“Don’t touch me!” It was Olivia’s voice, professionally trained and carrying clearly.
“Livie.” Kit’s voice was pleading. “Please listen to me. You must know that I did all of this for you. Building a stage, putting on a play—it was all to attract you to me.”
“Trap me, you mean,” she said. “So I’m here. What do you have to say?”
“That what happened wasn’t supposed to.”
“You mean your walking away from me? Leaving me?”
“I didn’t have a choice. The government came for me. I had to— Damn! They’re back already. Please, tonight let’s talk.”
“No. The time for words is past. I’m here because of my son and d
aughter-in-law. I’m playing a part because—” She raised her voice. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She paused. “Stay away from me, you…you worthless boy.”
Kit’s voice softened. “You used to say that in a different tone.”
She gasped. “You ever touch me again and I’ll walk off this stage and never return.”
“Like you did the last time?” There was deep anger in his voice.
The slap she planted on Kit must have hurt because the vines shook as though from a strong wind. She stomped away.
Tate, still holding on to Haines, waited until Kit left, then he released the man. He glared at him. “You ever tell anyone a word of what you just heard and I won’t care about the tabloids. I’ll go after you with an army of lawyers. You understand me?”
“Of course. You can do that. You’re successful, while I’m—”
“Spare me!” Tate said. “Keep your mouth shut and stay away from Casey.”
Devlin didn’t reply. Instead, he clicked his heels together and gave Tate a straight-arm salute.
Disgusted, Tate walked away.
—
Devlin rapidly headed to the front gate, while dialing his PI. When the man answered, Devlin didn’t bother with preliminaries. “I think I have a story. Find out about Christopher Montgomery and Olivia Trumbull. He’s from Maine and she lives in this two-bit town. I already did some searching and I know Montgomery is from a mega-rich family. I want to know what happened between those two. You have anybody who can help you find out about this? I want info fast.”
“Yeah, I have people, but who’s paying for it?”
“Landers will. He’s related to this guy Montgomery, and he’ll pay to keep him out of the media, so don’t hold back.”
“You still owe me from last time. You—”
“Listen, you moron! Montgomery hires people like Landers to entertain at his kid’s birthday party. I want to know what he’s been up to. Go back years on this one. I know it has something to do with this town, but it may also be connected to this vermin-infested plantation. Landers’s great-uncle Fred Tattington owned it. Find out about him. Send somebody here to ask questions of the old-timers. Not you, but somebody clean and decent-looking. You have people who can to do this?”
“I can send an army, just so you can pay for them.”
“For once in my life, money is no object. I’ve earned this! I’ll call you tonight and see what you’ve found out.”
“I don’t know if I can do anything that fast. I need—”
Devlin hung up, not wanting to hear the man’s excuses. Like all extremely lazy people, he expected others to work backbreakingly hard.
It was morning and Tate and Casey were in her bed, the first night they’d slept together. She had on just her pajama top, while Tate wore nothing at all.
“I’m glad I bought this place,” he said. They were snuggled together, her head on his chest. There’d been a few women before he was successful, but back then all he’d thought about was getting a job that could pay the bills. After his name had been on a couple of movies, there’d been more women, but they’d only been interested in him as a star.
Casey was the first woman who didn’t seem to care about his movie-star status or even his looks—except to make jokes about them. She was interested in him as a man.
“I’m glad you didn’t try to make it modern,” she said. “No odd-looking sculptures in the garden. Do you mind if I put some more plants in the herb garden? I could use a patch of cilantro. And I need more lemon verbena.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Sure. Buy whatever you want and give me the bill.”
“Or send it to your accountant?”
“Nina takes care of that and she’ll be here soon. She’s doing some charity work now, and as soon as she finishes, she and Emmie will come.”
Casey smiled up at him. “I can hear the anticipation in your voice. Why don’t they live in L.A. with you?”
“They did, but after the divorce, Nina moved to Massachusetts. L.A. had too many bad memories for her. Speaking of which, Nina says I need a house in California that isn’t all steel and glass.” He stopped talking and waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. “What kind of house do you like?”
“One with a kitchen,” she said. “Walk-in pantry, big marble island. Or stainless steel—I can’t decide.”
“Any rooms attached to it?” He was laughing.
“Bedroom.” She ran her bare leg down his.
“Sounds good to me.” He kissed her, his hands on her face. He didn’t want to leave. Last night he’d talked to the director of his next movie, saying he’d rather not leave the country to go look at sets.
The director had not been understanding. “You want to blow off a multimillion-dollar production for some local play?”
Tate hadn’t said any more.
He looked into Casey’s eyes. “After the play is over, maybe you’d like to see my house in L.A. If you don’t like the kitchen, we can find another house.”
“That sounds good. I bet there are fabulous grocery stores in L.A. Now I have to order some ingredients online. Tamarind was in the quail dish. I had to do overnight shipping to—” His cellphone was ringing. “You better get that.”
Tate stuck out a long arm to pick the phone up. “It’s Jack.” He clicked it on. “Yeah, yeah. I’m dressed and ready and waiting for you. I’ll be there in seconds.” He turned the phone off and rolled back to Casey and started kissing her neck.
She pushed away from him. “You told Jack you were dressed, so now you have to get up.”
“I am up.”
Casey gave a giggle. “Not like that. Stop kissing me.” She was leaning her head back as his lips began to move down her shoulder. “Tate! We don’t have time for this. You have a plane to catch.”
“It’ll be a quickie.”
“You don’t like quick. You like long and slow and…” She was sliding down in the bed.
“I’m an actor. I’ll pretend I’m your last boyfriend and it’ll all be over in seconds. Just lie very still and think about tamarind and cilantro.”
Casey started to laugh, but he kissed her as he moved on top of her.
Jack and Tate reached the car at the same time and they grinned at each other across the car’s roof. It had taken a lot more than seconds to get there. Inside, they sat on opposite ends of the leather seat and told the driver to go.
“So where’s your suitcase?” Tate asked.
Jack shrugged. “I left everything here, maybe even my heart. What about you?”
As the car pulled onto the street, Tate looked out the window. “Mine but not hers.” He turned back to Jack. “I practically asked her to move in with me in L.A., but she just wanted to know what the grocery stores carried.”
“That sounds good. Maybe she is thinking about living there.”
“No, she isn’t,” Tate said. “What about you and Gizzy?”
Jack took a moment before answering. “You know how I was glad she didn’t ask me a lot of questions? Now I’m a little concerned that she doesn’t want to know anything about me.”
In spite of himself, Tate remembered the photo Haines had shown him of Gizzy kissing a fireman. “What’s her boyfriend history? Has she had a lot of them?”
Jack frowned. “I don’t know. As much as I love her nonstop action, sometimes I wish we could have a heart-to-heart. What do you know?”
Tate hesitated. Should he show Jack the photo that Haines had sent him or not? Maybe it was all a lie, but he and Jack had been duped by ambitious women before. He took out his cell and clicked on the photo. “I was told this was taken two days ago, but that could be wrong.”
Jack glanced at the picture, then handed the phone back to Tate. “That’s what I was beginning to suspect.”
The two men looked at each other.
“We’ll see how things stand when we get back,” Tate said, and Jack agreed.
“So how have you been?” Olivia ask
ed Casey. “Anything interesting happen?” They were wearing pretty Regency-era dresses and sitting on chairs that had been set up outside the gazebo. Onstage, Lori was flitting around Gizzy and teasing about how wonderful the soldiers were. She seemed very young but at the same time quite seductive.
“That girl is really talented. I hope she does something with it,” Casey said.
“I found out that she’s staying in a lake house with her grandmother, Estelle, who I knew in high school. I want to talk to her about getting Lori into Juilliard.” She took a breath. “How lucky Estelle is to have a granddaughter like her.”
Casey reached across to squeeze Olivia’s wrist.
“Actually, I was asking about you and Tate,” Olivia said. “He’s been gone for a whole twenty-four hours. How are you holding up?”
“Very well. I don’t have three meals a day to cook, and I don’t have him hanging around my kitchen all day. He isn’t bugging me to go everywhere with him in his little red truck. Did I tell you that one day he went to the grocery with me? It was a fiasco! He bought three dozen grapefruits and challenged me to make a pie with them. I didn’t, but when we got back I put up some jars of a rather nice marmalade with a stalk of tarragon in the middle. Using the whole stalk was his suggestion, and he cleaned the grapefruit for me. Well, anyway, I can now do my summer canning without him underfoot.”
Olivia was smiling. “You told me that story. Twice. You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“I do, but I wish I didn’t.” She blew out her breath in exasperation. “I’ve always prided myself on functioning on my own. Even when I lived with someone, I stood on my own feet.”
She paused, then said, “I’m confused about what’s going on between Tate and me. Before he left he talked about my being his cook in L.A. I guess I’d be his sleep-in chef. But I—” She put her hands over her face. “I really, really like him and I miss him—but I don’t want to. I like being independent. I grew up with a mother who was gone all the time, and I learned to rely on myself. But then, that’s what drove my ex-boyfriend crazy. He used to say he didn’t feel needed.”
The Girl From Summer Hill Page 21
