“Gladly.” Smiling, Casey watched him walk away, then closed and locked the door. “If Gizzy doesn’t decide to catch some grasshoppers and fry them,” she muttered as she glanced toward the stairs. She’d only spent a few minutes in her bedroom earlier, but she’d been so creeped out by what she saw there that she’d run back down. She’d quickly prepared dinner for four and taken two meals to Jack. She hated including enough food for Tate as well, but he was her landlord and he was staying there. Besides, she couldn’t bear to let anyone go hungry.
At the foot of the stairs, she took a breath before going up. Maybe she should burn some sage sticks to get his presence out of her house.
In her bedroom, she again looked around. Earlier, she’d hastily put things back to the way they had been. The little red jewelry box her mother had given her went to the left; her two awards for Best Chef went on the right. The photo of her with her mom in Appalachia, surrounded by a dozen grinning children, went in the center. Her big hairbrush was on a linen cloth beside her comb.
She’d checked the insides of the drawers, but nothing seemed to have been moved. As she’d picked her pajamas up off the floor and thrown them into the clothes basket, she wondered if she’d ever wear them again.
While locking the bedroom door and checking that the windows were secure, she again wondered what he’d been doing in her bedroom. Was the answer one of those creepy male things where a man just liked to touch female possessions?
She showered quickly and got ready for Devlin’s arrival, putting on a cotton dress with a little pink shrug and pale sandals. Not too daring, but modest and demure. As she gave a last glance at the mirror, she told herself that tonight she was not going to even mention Tate Landers.
Her head came up. What if she played Elizabeth and Devlin played Darcy? Josh could be Wickham. Not a bad idea, she thought. Tomorrow, she’d be firm and tell Kit that the only way she’d play Elizabeth was if Devlin could be Darcy.
Smiling, she went downstairs to set the table with candles and her prettiest wineglasses.
“You should have been there!” Tate said.
It was after dinner and he and Jack were in the library of the old house. Jack was sitting on the leather chesterfield sofa, sipping
the espresso Casey had made and put into a thermos.
Tate was pacing the floor like some predatory animal. “She assumes I’m full of myself, swallowed up by my own ego. But she knows nothing about me, especially not the hell all of us went through with Haines.” He put his hands in his pockets and sat down on a red-and-green plaid chair. An hour earlier, while Tate was upstairs, Casey had delivered their dinner. When he saw the basket, he was sure there’d be nothing in it for him, but there were two of everything. While they’d eaten trout braised in whiskey, he’d been mostly silent, looking at his excellent food as though it might be poisoned.
“If this is what she does in a hurry, I can’t imagine what she cooks when she has time,” Jack said, but Tate hadn’t responded. When they got to the library, Tate nearly exploded and told Jack what was going on.
Jack had been shocked to hear that Tate’s ex-brother-in-law was in town, even more surprised to hear that Haines had the role of Wickham in the play. He’d only seen the man once before today, so earlier, when Haines was onstage, Jack hadn’t recognized him. “Appropriate,” Jack had mumbled, but he’d been knocked speechless when Tate said that Casey’s date was Devlin Haines.
“I tried to tell her about the man but she wouldn’t listen,” Jack said. “And she was right. I don’t know him. You have to tell her about him.”
“Go to her with my tail between my legs and beg her to believe me? I don’t think so.” Tate got up and went back to pacing. “I wonder when she met him? She was at those food tables all day long. And through all the auditions she sat there with that blonde woman and they laughed at everything. Not that they made any noise. She was very respectful of those poor women who stared at me like I was from another planet, but I saw her. She laughed exactly where I would have. There was one time when a woman left out the word ‘not.’ She was supposed to say that if Darcy were the last man on earth she wouldn’t marry him, but she said—”
“I get it. An amateur messed up the line.”
“Yeah, but it was funny, except that nobody else laughed. Only she did.”
“Casey.”
“Yeah, PJ Lady.”
“You ever call her that to her face and you may not live.”
“No danger of that, since I’m leaving tomorrow. Anyway, I cut a glance at her and she and the woman were nearly falling out of their seats—but silently. Who is she?”
“The blonde or PJ?”
“I’ve had all the ridicule I can take today.”
“The other woman—the blonde—is named Olivia something, and she’s going to play Mrs. Bennet.”
“There were auditions after I left?” Tate asked.
“I have no idea. Gizzy told me. By the way, before you open your mouth and insert your foot, Gizzy is a half sister to Miss PJ—I mean Casey. So don’t complain to her about Casey. You want some of this coffee?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do about your brother-in-law?”
“Ex,” Tate snapped. “I pay him enough that he’s supposed to stay out of our lives.”