The Girl from Summer Hill (5 page)

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.
A
ND 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 shower is at the back of the house, but, yeah, I did.”

“Full frontal?” Nina was barely suppressing her laughter.

“Yeah.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “I'm not sure but I think she sat on a stool and drank a cup of tea while she watched.”

Nina laughed. “People usually have to pay to see you do that.”

“In all my movies, there's been only one bathing scene. It was under a waterfall and it was shot from the side.”

“But then you moved so they got your back and your bare chest, and afterward you walked around in a towel that wouldn't cover one of Emmie's dolls.”

“Okay.” Tate was laughing. “So I have to earn a living. Look, I need transportation and I have to get someone to repair a screen door.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“I was sort of…well, unhappy when I saw Miss Pajamas in my house. I thought she was taking photos. I sort of put my fist through the screen. And from the look of the place, I may have accidentally kicked the bottom half out too.”

Nina's voice was serious. “Tate, that's not funny. You're big, and when you get angry your whole face changes. Onscreen it's great, but in real life you can be frightening.”

“I know.” His voice was apologetic. “I've already heard this from Jack. And I will apologize to her. I'll probably see her this afternoon, but right now I need a car so I can get food. You think this town has a taxi service?”

“I doubt it, but I'll call the—”

“Holy crap!” Tate said.

“What is it?”

“There's something upstairs in her house. I think it's a bird. It's the size of a dog and I think it's trying to get out. It's pecking at the window screen.”

“Oh, no!” Nina said. “It's probably a peacock or a peahen. I forgot to tell you that Stacy said the caretaker was releasing them today. The birds have to bond with their environment, so they've been in cages. Remember Mom telling us about that huge peacock and how she and Ace used to—”

“Nina!” Tate yelled.

“Right. Oh, no. Emmie is calling me. She's home sick in bed today. Why don't you go chase the pea-critter and let Emmie watch on her iPad? It'll entertain her while I call the caretaker.”

Nina didn't wait for his answer but hung up and quickly left a voicemail for the Tattwell caretaker. He probably wouldn't get the message before evening, but Nina didn't mind. One great thing about having an actor for a brother was that he loved to entertain. He could make the most mundane of events seem spectacular. Surely, chasing a peacock in a small house would cheer up Tate—and watching him would occupy her daughter for a while.

She ran to Emmie's room and grabbed her tablet.

It took Nina just minutes to sync phone and iPad between her brother and her daughter, and set it all to record. Sometimes her brother gave his best performances for his family and she liked to see them. She gave Emmie a bag of vegetable chips and some juice, put the tablet on the stand, and headed to the bathroom. If she knew her brother and daughter—kindred spirits if ever there were any—she'd have at least half an hour to herself. She would be within hearing distance, but she was going to soak in a tub of very hot water for as long as she could manage.

Tate smiled at his pretty little niece, who looked unhappy at being confined to her bed, even if it did have pink and white ruffles. Since she was born, the two of them had had their own little world. They understood each other. Tate said that entertaining Emmie fulfilled his need to be
writer/director/producer/actor
all in one. And he did indeed work to come up with new ways to make her smile.

He put his finger to his lips. Today, he was going the way of a silent film. The first thing he did was put on some music, and he knew that for chasing a predatory bird, only Bizet's
Carmen
would do.

Holding his phone at arm's length, he began tiptoeing toward the house. When he got to the screen door, he showed her the huge bottom hole and pantomimed a monster clawing its way inside. He bit his nails in fear.

Emmie, in keeping with her uncle's silence, pantomimed opening a door and shrugged in question.

Tate gave an exaggerated look of embarrassment and pointed to himself.

Why? Emmie asked, palms up.

Acting ashamed, Tate stroked long hair for a girl, then pointed to himself. He wore the scowl that was so famous in his movies, and he mimicked the girl putting her arms up in fear.

Emmie shook her head. That was bad of him to frighten her.

Nodding in agreement, Tate wore an I'm-sorry face.

Inside the house, he moved his phone around to show the kitchen, with spices and herbs hanging up and drying, tall bottles of oils, and fat jars of jam with their pretty cloth covers. He panned down the skillets hanging from hooks in the wall.

Emmie's eyes widened at the sight. Her mother barely knew how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. She pointed up and Tate took a jar off the shelf. The label said
PEAR JAM WITH MANDARIN TEA
. Smiling, she nodded vigorously. It looked delicious.

Tate put on a sad face and rubbed his stomach to show how hungry he was. As he filmed, he stopped at the big trash bin and saw two cold fried eggs on top. It took him a moment to come up with a reason for their being there. Was it possible that she'd prepared them for him? If she had tried to deliver them…He didn't like to think that she'd overheard what he'd said to Jack.

Emmie waved her hands to ask him what the problem was.

Tate showed the eggs, pointed at himself, then made tear marks down his cheeks.

Again, Emmie shook her head at him. He had been
very
bad.

On a countertop along a sidewall was a low row of something covered by white cloths. When Tate pulled one of the cloths back, he saw a pie with a crust made of long pieces of perfectly browned dough. The top looked like a flower. Underneath, berries oozed atop a golden custard.

Tate didn't have to fake his longing and hunger. He snatched away the other covers. There were six pies, each with a different top. They were works of art! One had meringue on it high enough to make a pillow. There was a tart with six fruits arranged in a pattern, another had peach slices baked in cream, one was topped with lots of little cut-out leaves, all perfectly browned, and on the end was a rolled-up crust filled with apricots and sliced almonds. The divine smell of the pies made him dizzy.

Tate's hunger and the beautiful pies were more than he could resist. There was a big spoon nearby and he grabbed it—but Emmie started waving her arms no. He could
not
steal the lady's food.

It wasn't difficult for Tate to silently show his hunger and his pure, deep lust for them.

But Emmie didn't give in. Her pantomime reminded him of what he'd done to the screen door. He did not deserve any of what the lady had cooked.

Tate sniffed hard and wiped away fake tears, but at last he put his shoulders back. He was going to be brave and strong and resist the food.

When there was a screech from upstairs, Tate's eyes widened. He looked terrified and as though he was going to run away.

But Emmie vigorously shook her head to let him know that it was just a bird. She silently encouraged him to proceed.

Holding his phone, he slowly went up the stairs, stopping three times to mimic fear. Each time, Emmie had to be firm to make him continue.

The stairs led to a landing outside the bedroom. Scattered around on the floor were objects that looked to have been on top of the dresser. By the window was a huge iridescent peacock, its long tail elegantly dragging behind it.

Tate plastered himself against the open door, his arms outstretched in terror. The music was building in pace. Turning, he threw himself back over the doorway, too frightened to stay in the room.

It was Emmie's gestures, especially when she slapped her fist into her palm, that made him stay. She told him to go back in the room and close the door. This caused more fear from Tate; he was shivering all over.