The Girl from Summer Hill (38 page)

The audience rose to its feet, and when the curtain went back up, Casey and Tate were still locked in an embrace. Staying in character, the other players rushed onto the stage to congratulate them. But Tate and Casey didn't break their kiss.

One by one, the players went to the front of the stage and took bows. When Olivia and Kit stepped forward, hands tightly held, the audience went crazy. Outside, car horns were blowing, and a couple of police cars set off alarms in appreciation.

Kit stepped back to give the audience a clear view of Tate and Casey wrapped in each other's arms. But Kit shook his head and gave a thumbs-down. His meaning was clear. A youngster like Landers didn't know how to kiss!

Following Kit's lead, Olivia batted her lashes at him, flipped her hip, and sashayed off the stage with a panting Kit running after her. Everyone laughed loudly.

Lydia and Wickham came next. When Lori wouldn't let Devlin even touch her hand, he had a flash of anger, then he twirled his imaginary mustache and leered at her.

Their act was a relief from what they'd done in the play, which had seemed so very real.

Finally, everyone stepped aside to show Casey and Tate, who were still kissing. They broke apart and took bows. Casey held up her diamond ring, blew on it, and polished it on her shoulder. She raised her arm in triumph, as though to say that she'd just won first prize at the fair.

Tate grabbed her hand and pulled her off the stage, acting as though he couldn't wait to get her alone. They stopped just behind the curtain to watch the audience and the other players, who were taking second bows.

Casey was looking at the ring. It flashed even in the dull light. “This looks real. I think the whole proposal was a great addition to the play. Why didn't you warn me?”

“It is real, and no man warns of a proposal. Hear that?”

The audience was chanting something, but Casey was still staring at the ring. “Real as in how? Diamonds?”

“They're saying ‘Lizzy! Lizzy!' They want
you
.”

Casey didn't know what he meant.

“Go! Take your bows. You earned them.” He pushed her back onto the stage.

By herself, Casey walked to the edge. It was hard to believe, but the audience really was yelling for Lizzy. For her. Emmie ran across the stage, nearly outweighed by an enormous bouquet of pink roses, and handed them to Casey. The child, smiling hugely, started to leave, but Casey took her hand and they both bowed to the applauding audience.

Emmie, young but an old pro, stepped back, her arms extended, and looked toward the curtain to her uncle. In the next moment she started running and Tate caught her. He picked her up and walked out with her to stand beside Casey. The applause, the whistles, shouts, and horns were deafening. It was a long while before they left the stage.

What greeted them offstage was a bewildered Devlin in handcuffs. “I didn't know she was so young, and she
wanted
to stay with me. And now she's saying I held her against her will?” He was sputtering. “I can't be held responsible for her lies. If she'd told me the truth I would have helped her—which is what I was trying to do in the first place. How was I to know she was a pathological liar?
She
should be in handcuffs. Not me! I was trying to—”

He broke off because the crowd was calling for him and Lydia. “You have to remove these! They want me.”

Rowan gave a snort of derision and clamped down on Devlin's upper arm.

But Kit stepped forward. He said nothing, but he gave his son a glance that said everything. Rowan released Devlin—but he didn't remove the handcuffs.

When Devlin, with Lori beside him, appeared onstage in handcuffs, the audience went into peals of laughter and cheers. The villain was being punished. They all thought it was part of the play, and they appreciated the twenty-first-century slant on the story.

Devlin's face lost its sulky expression and he played to the audience, even to chasing Lori around the stage, before finally disappearing behind the curtain. Rowan lost no time in grabbing him, but he stopped when Devlin paused near Tate.

“So who won?” Devlin's voice was a sneer, and it said that there was no doubt that he was the winner of the Great Acting Challenge, something that everyone else had forgotten about.

“You did,” Tate said. “I concede to you.” With that, he gave a formal bow to his ex-brother-in-law.

Devlin put his chin up and was led off the stage, his hands in cuffs.

Tate and Casey were in her bed and he was nuzzling her neck. She could feel the ring on her finger, and as soon as her senses were her own, she planned to ask him about it. But right now all she could think about were his lips on her body, his skin against hers.

Last night they'd returned from the play full of energy and hunger, for food and for each other. In between lovemaking and talking, they'd eaten whatever they could find. The play, Devlin's fate, what awaited Lori, and what was going to happen with Kit and Olivia, had occupied them so completely that Casey didn't ask about the ring. But she certainly didn't take it off!

They didn't get to bed until after three
A.M
. and had fallen into a deep sleep, wrapped around each other.

The clock on the bedside table said it was now ten
A.M
., and Casey needed to get up and start cooking. Everyone would be wanting breakfast.

When Tate's cellphone began playing Katy Perry's “Roar,” he immediately rolled over and picked it up. “Emmie?”

“No, it's me,” Nina said, and Casey could hear her. “I have her phone. She said she was on her way to you. I was just checking. My usual smothering.”

Tate sat up, the covers falling away from his bare chest. “When did she leave?”

“About a minute ago.” Nina drew a breath. “Emmie is upset because she thinks you're going to be mad at her.”

“What has she done now?” He was watching Casey as she got out of bed and pulled on her clothes, which she'd discarded on the floor.

“That's not the question,” Nina said.

“Let me talk to Nina.” Casey took the phone as Tate pulled on his boxers under the sheet. “Tell me what happened.”

“Josh took Emmie home right after the play, but when I got there, she was still awake. She was saying that Uncle Tate is going to be really mad at her.”

“Do you think it's because of her father?” Casey asked. “Emmie must have seen him in handcuffs.”

“I don't think so. She's never expected much from him. Tate is everything to her.”

“I'll go look for her,” Casey said, but just then Emmie, in head-to-foot pink, stepped into the room. “She's here.”

Nina let out a sigh. “Tell Tate to fix this. I'll come and get her in about an hour.” She clicked off.

Tate was frowning at his niece, who was standing with her head down, as though in apology. “Just so you know,” he said, “when I find out what you did, I'm going to be furious.”

“Tate!” Casey said in horror. “She—”

But Emmie knew her uncle well, knew his acting voice from his real one. He wasn't angry and wasn't going to be. She made a leap and launched herself onto him. He caught her to snuggle against his chest and smoothed the hair out of her eyes. “What's this about?”

“I put it online. On the cloud.”

“What is ‘it'? The play?”

Casey went to the door, meaning to go downstairs to start breakfast, but Emmie's iPad was leaning against the wall, and she picked it up. “Does this have anything to do with it?” She sat down on the bed and handed it to Emmie.

“Show me what you've done,” Tate said.

She pushed the button, swiped the screen, and up came the video of Tate in Casey's bedroom, chasing the peacock.

“You posted that silly thing?”

Emmie solemnly nodded, looking as though she'd done something awful. “And the one about Mr. Collins.”

“What are you talking about?” Tate asked.

“I saw Gizzy with the phone,” Casey answered, looking at Emmie. “You mean when we were at the picnic, don't you? When Uncle Tate played Mr. Collins.”

Emmie nodded, still seeming worried.

Tate was finally understanding. “I think you know too much about technology.” He tossed the iPad aside and began tickling his niece.

Casey picked up the tablet. “Those two videos have nearly a million hits. Look at the comments. People are saying they had no idea you could be so funny. I wonder if this ‘Ron Howard' is the director?”

Tate quit tickling his niece, took the tablet from Casey, and quickly scrolled down the comments. There were several names he recognized. “This couldn't be real.” He grabbed his phone and checked the emails. There were ninety-one of them. Wide-eyed, he handed the phone to Casey.

She read the addresses of the senders. “Joel Coen sounds familiar.”

Tate fell back against the headboard. “The Coen brothers,” he whispered, his voice sounding reverent.

Casey looked at Emmie. “I take it this is good?”

“Oh, yeah,” the child said. “Uncle Tate loves them.”

They heard the downstairs door slam, and Jack yelled, “Landers!” He was running up the stairs. “Your agent called me. She wanted to know where the—” He stopped when he saw Emmie. “She wants to know why in the world you don't answer your phone.” Gizzy was behind him.

Tate seemed unable to speak.

“He has it set so only Emmie and Nina's calls come through,” Casey said. “What does his agent want?”

“That video with that stupid bird and the one I sent Emmie have gone viral. Some big shots want you to do something in a movie besides smolder. Harvey called.”

Tate gasped.

“Harvey who?” Casey asked.

“Weinstein.”

Even she had heard that name. Leaning over, she kissed Tate's cheek, and again she started for the stairs. But this time Nina blocked her. She had a piece of paper in her hands and she thrust it at her brother. She looked too astonished to speak.

Silently, Tate started to read it, but couldn't seem to do so. He handed it to Casey.

It was a review of last night's play, and it was from
The New York Times
. She began to read aloud.

My editor sent me to some small town no one has ever heard of because her favorite actor, heartthrob Tate Landers, was in a local play.
Pride and Prejudice,
no less. My first thought was that being Darcy onscreen wasn't enough for him? He had to repeat it in a live performance? I complained incessantly for two days—ask my wife. Her reply was, “If I can carry your kid—” Etc. So I went.

But I'm very glad I did. What I saw was a relatively politically correct version of
Pride and Prejudice
.

I know I'm of the proverbial one percent, but Jane Austen's book always annoyed me. A man runs off with a half-grown child and he ends up richer for it and she's happy. Today he'd end up in handcuffs. And that's the way this was played. Devlin Haines, of the late, unlamented
Death Point,
even came onstage for final bows wearing cuffs. Perfect.

But what was great about the whole production was that the actors—nearly all of them locals—made that tired ol' story almost believable. Performances that are usually played for laughs were done with such seemingly true feelings of misery that we the audience gasped and clutched our throats and at times even got teary-eyed.

Christopher Montgomery and Olivia Paget as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet didn't snip and snap but played a couple who still deeply loved each other after long years together. It was a nice change to an old trope.

Lori Young, playing Lydia, was so good it was like watching pure talent being hatched from an egg. She took her character from a flirty girl to an adult who faced a lifetime of repentance for what she'd done. Her performance was nuanced, heartrending, and oh so very believable.

Devlin Haines was nearly overshadowed by the girl, but he was excellent as the lying, deceitful Wickham. Too bad the TV industry keeps casting him as the good guy.

Jack Worth, rarely seen on film outside a racing vehicle, looked so in love with the beautiful Gisele Nolan—who played the part of Jane with a delicate subtlety—that I felt it. Could he be the next Tate Landers?

As for Landers himself, all I can say is, Who knew?

Something that's always bothered me about every version of
Pride and Prejudice
is that I could never see why Darcy was falling for feisty little Lizzy Bennet. But Landers let us see it. His cutting looks at the sycophants around him, the way he hid smiles behind pretty Lizzy's back, made me understand.

As for Acacia Reddick as Elizabeth Bennet, she was a fireball! She bawled out poor Darcy so well that I felt sorry for him. Whatever she does in real life, she may want to reconsider.

There are to be twelve performances of
Pride and Prejudice
in the little town of Summer Hill, Virginia, which is halfway between Richmond and Charlottesville. If you're in the area, I suggest you go see it. If you're not in the neighborhood, charter a jet.

Bill Simons, your—for once—happy critic

Casey put the paper down. “Wow,” she said, but could think of nothing else to say.

Gizzy held out her hand for Emmie. “Let's go downstairs and I'll scramble a dozen eggs.”

“Peacock eggs?” Emmie asked as she took Gizzy's hand.

“We wouldn't have anything else.”

Jack and Nina went with them, closing the door and leaving Tate and Casey alone.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He was still leaning against the headboard, and he held out his arm to her. She snuggled against him.

Tate entwined her fingers with his. “It's all because of you.”

“What is?”

“This,” he said. “Everything. Jack and Gizzy. Nina and Josh. Kit and Olivia.”

“You and Harvey Weinstein?”

Tate laughed. “The true-love match.”

“Do you think you'll be asked to play other parts?”

He pulled back to look at her. “I think it just might happen. And you brought it all to me.”

“Sure it wasn't Colonel Peacock in the well house?”

He knew what she was doing. She didn't want to take credit for the good that she'd done. He picked up her hand and looked at the ring. “You like it?”

“Very much.” Her heart increased its speed. “Where did you get it?”

“My manager sent me some photos and I chose one. We can trade it for something else if you don't like this one.”

“I don't understand about this ring. I know you proposed, but it was onstage and not real.”

When he slid down in the bed, he took her with him. “A lot of people saw you nod in agreement. I'd really hate to have to sue you for breach of promise. Since I have so many witnesses, you'll lose for sure.”

“Guess I better not try it, then.” He was kissing her neck. “This is where we started this morning.”

“Uncle Tate!” Emmie yelled through the door.

“And this is where it went,” Tate said with a moan. “What do you need, Emmie?”

“Mom said she's going to make pancakes.”

Casey and Tate looked at each other.

“Sorry,” Casey said, “but this is an emergency. Your sister is in my kitchen!” She started to get up, but Tate pulled her back.

“I am the happiest man in the world,” he said. “There were things missing in my life, but the gaps have been filled. I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Uncle Tate!” Emmie yelled again, her voice now frantic. “Mom wants to know how much salt to put in the pancakes.”

Casey stared at Tate with wild eyes.

“Go!” he said. “Anyway, I need to answer some calls.”

After half a dozen quick kisses, Casey ran down the stairs.

Tate pulled on his jeans and went to the window. It was a new day, the beginning of a new life. He heard a crash from downstairs—a bowl broken—and he smiled. Sauntering across the drive was the old peacock, its glorious tail dragging behind it. “Thanks, old man,” he said.

Disdainful, the bird didn't even look up.