The Girl from Summer Hill (21 page)

“Weren't we looking for something?” Tate asked.

“Trust me. You found it.”

“Did I?” He turned on his side to face her, picked up a strand of her hair, and held it up to the light. “I've always liked red hair.”

“When I was a kid, it was much redder and I wanted to dye it.”

“Speaking of red, what is that?”

Turning, she looked at the wall. Their energetic lovemaking had knocked loose a piece of wood that covered a little opening. Tate reached over her and pulled out a metal candy box. It was red on the sides, the top painted with a scene of a peacock with its tail in full flourish.

“Maybe it contains a recipe for peacock pie,” Tate said enthusiastically as he set the box on the cushion between them.

When he put his hand on the lid, Casey covered it with her own. “Are you sure you want to see what's inside? This box probably belonged to your mother.”

He met her eyes. “You know, I think being here, where my mother was so very happy, and with you treating me like a real person, is healing me.”

“That's a very nice thing to say. Thank you.”

“But again, it might be your pies that are doing the most damage repair.”

Laughing, Casey removed her hand.

Tate got up to get what was left of the candle and set it by them. It was lighter outside now and they could see.

Inside the box were little things that would fascinate children. There was a silver tiger's head that looked to have been broken off an old cane. Tate held up a strange dried-up item.

“Chicken claw,” Casey said, and he set it aside.

There were three marbles with gold-colored centers, two silver dollars dated 1910, and a long bullet in a brass casing.

“M-One, World War Two,” Tate said.

“Learn that from a movie?”

“Yeah. I died from one of those. But it was in the arms of a woman I loved, so it was okay.”

“Did you love her? I mean the actress.”

“For the first half of the movie, I made an effort to. In the second half I found her in the director's trailer. Funny how quickly love can disappear at the sight of legs in the air.”

“Or being told your boyfriend is dating his paralegal and he
likes
her. I took that to mean that he'd never actually
liked
me.” She pulled out three matchbook covers from the box. They were from local businesses that no longer existed.

“I'm sorry he took his inadequacies out on you.”

“I should have—”

He leaned across the box and kissed her. “Don't say that. You were working hard. You did nothing wrong.” He smiled. “On the other hand, I'm glad he was such a douchebag. If he hadn't been, you wouldn't be here with me now.”

“To share an afternoon of truly wonderful sex?”

“Thanks, but that's not what I meant,” he said. “I was talking about outside of here. I dreaded coming to Tattwell, but you've made it a joy.”

She kissed him in thanks, then looked back at the box. “What's this?” She held up a scrap of black velvet, so old the fuzz was mostly gone. “Something's inside it.” Slowly, she opened the fabric. Inside was a ring that appeared to be an antique. It was white gold, with a large round clear stone surrounded by cutwork and tiny brilliants.

When she held it up to the light, it flashed and sparkled. “This looks real.”

“I think it might be.”

“We have to find the owner of this ring.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a ridiculous statement. “Wonder how long it's been in here?”

“Thirty, forty years, something like that.”

Casey was peering inside the ring's band. There was no engraving. “Why did your mother's family stop coming?”

“My grandparents taught school, so they had summers free and came here to work for Uncle Freddy. But the winter my mom turned ten, Granddad got a job in California as an engineer in a shipbuilding plant. It was a year-round job.”

“Did they visit Uncle Freddy?”

“Once or twice, but not often.”

“Poor man. He must have missed them very much.”

“I guess so, because when he died, he left everything to Mom. She never told me about it, but one time I heard her on the phone saying that Uncle Freddy's brother and the other relatives were so angry she thought they might hire a hit man to go after her.”

“So why didn't they buy the place from her?”

“My guess is that they wanted it for free, not to have to pay for it. What's your extended family like?”

“Don't have one,” she said. “Mom was an only child, and her parents died long before I was born. She was forty-three when she had me.”

“And that's why she used a donor.” He smiled. “You must have been a much-wanted child.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes I envied other kids having fathers, but you make the best you can out of what you have.”

“I agree,” he said.

When they looked into each other's eyes, understanding passed between them. Their childhoods had been alike, with single mothers struggling to do the best they could. And by necessity, both children had grown up quickly. When Tate was just a kid, he'd looked for ways to help support his family. Casey, instead of complaining about her mother being gone so much, had figured out a way to make her time alone into something educational and fun.

Neither of them had had the childhood luxury of a world that revolved around them. Casey'd had to adjust to no father and a mother who was rarely there. Tate had dealt with the death of his father and the adult problem of putting food on the table.

“You should have this,” Tate said. There was a black lanyard in the box with a plastic ornament on it. Tate slipped the ornament off and put the ring on the cord, then hung it around Casey's neck.

“I can't take it.” But even as she said it, her hand closed over the ring. It was quite beautiful.

“Think of it as a gift from Letty and Ace. They hid it away, just waiting for us to find it.”

“I bet whoever they stole it from wasn't very happy about it.”

“I wonder why Mom never told me a story about the ring. I think that if she knew who it belonged to, she would have returned it. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Noon maybe?”

Tate groaned. “I have to go. That trainer they sent came through the doors of hell. If I'm not there soon, he'll send a SWAT team after me.”

“I'm on his side.”

“What?” Tate frowned so hard his eyebrows met, then he understood. “Yeah?” He flexed his biceps. “You don't think I'm getting too bulky?”

Smiling, Casey set the box aside and opened her arms to him. “I think you're just right.”

They made love again, this time very slowly. The only thing they had on was the ring around Casey's neck.

“From the first day, I've wanted to give you a ring,” he whispered, but Casey was sure she'd misheard him.

Afterward, they reluctantly put their damp clothes back on and slithered out through the tunnel under the fierce blackberry bushes. Standing outside like an angry guard, was the peacock. This time, instead of ignoring them, he gave a very loud screech of protest. Casey thought it sounded almost like the cry of a human in distress. Hearing it from only a few inches away was nearly enough to injure her eardrums.

At the deafening sound, Casey jumped back, and for a second Tate put his body protectively in front of hers.

But he couldn't resist an opportunity for drama. He leaped behind her, hands on her shoulders, and ducked his head. It was as though he were terrified and using her as a shield.

“Come on, Ace,” she said in a deep voice. “You know I'm wearing the magic ring so no one can hurt us. Now stand up straight and tall and face your fears.”

He took a deep breath and stood up, but he stayed behind her.

“Look, he's just a bird and he's probably lonely,” she said.

“Actually, he's so mean no one can stand to be around him.” Tentatively, Tate stepped around Casey and took her hand. “I think we better find the truck and get out of here.”

But Casey didn't move. Still holding Tate's hand, she took a step forward, her other hand extended toward the bird. “I'm sure he's a very nice guy. He just needs a little TLC.”

The big bird suddenly put its magnificent tail up in a glorious circle—and pecked Casey's hand hard.

“Ow! That hurt!” There was blood on her hand. “I think—”

Tate didn't give her time to say any more because the peacock, its five-foot tail flashing in the sunlight, was going after Casey.

With the expertise of having done it in many movies, Tate threw her over his shoulder and began to run, the peacock on his heels.

Casey lifted her head enough to see the bird. “He's gaining on us. Run faster!”

“You sound like my last director.” He swerved around two tree stumps, brushed tree branches out of his face, and jumped over a fallen log.

“I could walk, you know,” Casey said, but Tate ran a caressing hand over her curvy rear end, which was right by his ear. “Actually, I think my ankle is broken and I may never walk again.”

Tate laughed. “Is he still charging us?”

“Oh, yeah. You think that tail is up for you or me? You're by far the prettier one.”

Tate sat her down with a
thunk
on the seat of the little truck and kissed her quickly. “He wants you. You look and feel and taste like a girl.” He said it with such a leer that Casey came close to giggling.

Tate started to run around the front, but the peacock pecked his ankle, so he climbed over Casey—with lots of hand–body contact—into the driver's side, started the engine, and drove as fast as the vehicle could go.

She was watching out the back. “You outran him.”

He slowed down the truck, looked at Casey, and they burst into laughter.

“Hello,” Olivia said.

Casey was putting buckets and mixing bowls in the utility truck. After she and Tate got back, she'd asked to borrow the truck so she could try to find where fruit was growing. He'd warned her to watch out for the livestock, then they'd kissed goodbye, and he'd run to the Big House and the trainer.

“Enjoying your day off?”

The thought of just how much she'd been enjoying the day sent blood rushing to Casey's face. “So far, it's been one of the best days of my life. What about you?”

Olivia smiled. “I take it you spent the morning with the master of the plantation.”

“I did,” she said.

“Judging by the new scratches on your forearms, I'd say that you were at the back of the property.”

Casey looked at her in shock. “I forget that you grew up in Summer Hill. Did you spend a lot of time on Tattwell?”

“In the summer of 1970, I was the housekeeper for Uncle Freddy. He wasn't my uncle, but everyone called him that. What are you doing with all these containers?”

“I'm going to search for food. Tate drove us around this morning and I saw several possibilities. It's early in the season, but I think there are a few things I can preserve. You wouldn't like to go with me, would you?”

“I'd love to.”

As they got into the little truck, Casey focused on Olivia. She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe she'd been crying. “Everything okay at home?”

“Fine,” Olivia said. “Did you check the cherry trees? A few of them used to bear fruit very early.”

“Tell me where they are.”

Olivia gave directions and Casey drove.

“It's changed so much since I was here,” Olivia said. “All of this used to be beautifully kept. Uncle Freddy gave jobs to so many people in Summer Hill—which is probably why he died broke.”

There was a sadness in her voice that made Casey frown. Earlier, Casey had been so happy that she called her mother to tell her everything—well, maybe not all of it. Her mother had been delivering a baby, though, and couldn't talk.

But now Casey didn't feel right talking about her happiness when Olivia looked so forlorn. And she had an idea that her daughter-in-law, Hildy, was behind it. Why in the world was Olivia living in the same house as that rude young woman? Maybe she could find out by starting at the beginning. “Were you madly in love with your late husband?”

Olivia let out a loud laugh. “No, I wasn't.”

“Oh,” Casey said.

“Turn here. I shouldn't have said that. I did come to love him, but when I married him I didn't love him at all.”

Before them were half a dozen cherry trees, some of them dead, all of them in desperate need of pruning. There wasn't much fruit, but there was some. Casey turned off the engine. “I'll get what I can while you tell me the story.”

Olivia seemed to consider that for a moment. “All right,” she said as she got out of the truck.

They walked through tall weeds and trees with broken branches, to one that was laden with ripe cherries. The sun was shining, and everything was glistening from the morning rain.

“It was 1972, and emotionally I was in a very bad place. I had recently been told that I couldn't have children.”

Casey gave a gasp.

“It's okay,” Olivia said. “It was a long time ago.” She took a deep breath. “My Broadway career had failed and I was at home in Summer Hill, living with my parents. I loved them, but they were older and they hated any noise. You ever play the Rolling Stones at whisper level? It loses a lot.”

Casey laughed.

“I got a job as the bookkeeper at Trumbull Appliances. The owner was a man named Alan, and he was in a mess. For one thing, his wife had died in childbirth and left him with an infant son.”

“Oh,” Casey said. “And there you were with baby lust.”

“It was eating up my soul,” Olivia said. “My childless future made me want to lie down in the road and let trucks run over me. Anyway, there was Alan with this motherless baby and a thoroughly incompetent, lazy live-in housekeeper who pestered him all day with her complaints.”

“Perfect for you to step in,” Casey said.

“At the time I thought so. Besides Alan's domestic problems, the store was failing. He'd inherited the place from his father, who had been a great salesman, but Alan took after his quiet-tempered mother. By the time I got there, he had only two employees and they did very little work.”

Olivia began to fill a stainless mixing bowl with cherries.

“For three whole months I stood back and watched as things fell apart, but then one day Alan was at his desk, eating a bologna sandwich and pulling strands of the housekeeper's long dark hair out of it, when she brought the baby in. She handed him to Alan, said she had a headache, and left. He had a desk piled high with papers, the phone was ringing, and he looked like he was going to cry.”

Olivia took a breath. “I'm ashamed to say that I didn't ask permission, I just took over. I put the baby on his desk and changed him, all while telling Alan what to do. I'm afraid I was very bossy. ‘Answer the phone.' ‘Tell them you can deliver it by Tuesday.' ‘Call the newspaper to repeat last week's ad, but say that this Saturday you're having a one-day fifteen-percent-off-everything sale.' ”

“It sounds like you'd thought about it.” Casey put a full bucket of cherries in the truck.

“I had. From the first day, I'd watched and thought about what I would do if the business were mine. Anyway, six months later Alan and I were married, and twenty-plus years after that we owned five appliance stores that did very well.”

“And you came to love him?”

“Yes, I did. But not…” She smiled. “Not in that way of young love, the kind where you rip each other's clothes off at first sight.”

Casey smiled at the clothes-ripping image. It's where she and Tate were. If he weren't with the trainer, she would be with him now. As it was, she was planning a special dinner for the two of them to share. She made herself stop thinking about Tate. “I don't mean to pry, but why do you now live in your stepson's house? Did the stores fail?”

Olivia took a while before answering. “Alan willed the stores to his son, but I had our house and a good retirement plan, so I would be quite comfortable.”

Casey's eyes widened. “Are you saying that your husband left the businesses that you had helped to build entirely to his son?”

“Yes, he did.”

Olivia looked away, but Casey saw a flash of pain go across her face. She had saved Alan Trumbull's business, yet he'd left everything to his son. “His
”
being the key word. “What happened?”

“Kevin was always like his father, even in that he married a woman who was stronger than he was.”

“Like Alan married you? Olivia, I don't mean to disparage anyone, but I've seen enough to know that Hildy is
not
like you.”

“Thank you. I don't think she is either.” Olivia waved her hand. “That doesn't matter. What happened was that as soon as Kevin got his inheritance, he and Hildy joined a country club, traveled, bought an expensive house, some cars, et cetera. Unfortunately, the stores suffered. By the time my stepson realized what was going on, they were almost bankrupt.”

“How did they recover?” Casey asked. “But wait, let me guess. You sold your house and emptied your retirement plan to bail them out.”

“I did,” Olivia said. “And I'm afraid it all shook me up more than I thought it would. I've been living in their house for about a year now and I need to do something else.”

“I think so,” Casey said. “I'll ask Kit—”

“No!” Olivia said.

Casey started to ask more but the closed, final look on Olivia's face made her back off. She knew that Kit had visited Tattwell when he was young. And he had handed Olivia the photo of her when she was an actress. Onstage, it didn't take much to see that there were some deep feelings between them. Even talking about the rotten things her late husband and his family had done to Olivia hadn't seemed to bring out the intensity of feeling that erupted at the mention of Kit Montgomery.

She decided to change the subject. “You said you worked at Tattwell in the summer of 1970. You wouldn't remember a couple of little kids, would you?”

“Letty and Ace?” Olivia's face lost its angry look. “They were quite unforgettable. They were into everything. If I baked cookies and walked out of the room for two minutes, half of them would disappear. There were times when I wanted to strangle both of them—except that I was laughing at their antics too often. Uncle Freddy loved them so much! He was in a wheelchair and everyone treated him as if he were glass. But not those kids! They used to turn off the chair's brake and push him down every path on this property. One time he rolled into the shallow end of the pond, and that's when Uncle Freddy found out that he could still swim. So he had the pool put in.”

Casey tried to be serious but couldn't. She started laughing, and Olivia joined her.

“In retrospect it is funny, but it wasn't then. They were the brattiest kids on earth.”

“I know Letty was Tate's mother, but who was Ace?”

“He grew up to be Dr. Kyle Chapman.”

Casey was so shocked she nearly dropped the bucket of cherries. “My
father
was Ace?”

“Yes.” There was a twinkle in Olivia's eyes. Everyone in town knew about the children that Dr. Kyle's donations had created. “Poor kid. That summer his mother was dying of cancer. His dad needed time to be with her, and that's why Ace pretty much lived here. People in town said the child didn't know what was going on, but he most certainly did! When his dad brought him back from visits to his mother…” Olivia didn't seem able to go on.

“What happened to the children at the end of the summer?” Casey asked softly.

“Tears and screaming. It was awful. Their misery made all of us cry. My mother wrote me that the next summer they were just as inseparable. Ace's dad, Dr. Everett Chapman, was grieving for his wife, and he was the only doctor in Summer Hill. When Uncle Freddy asked him to please let Kyle stay at the Big House, he said yes. After that, the children's summers together became the normal thing.”

“Until Letty's dad got a different job and quit coming here.” Casey put the last bucket into the truck. “I wonder why Dad didn't seek her out when he was an adult?”

“I have no idea. Why don't you ask him?”

“I will. You ready to go? I'd like to go to the blackberry patch.”

“The one that surrounds the well house?” There was an odd tone to Olivia's voice.

“Yes.” Casey pulled the ring on its black cord from inside her shirt. “Have you ever seen this before? It was in the kids' treasure box.”

Olivia held it for a moment. “No. Never. I bet they found it in the attic. When it was too rainy to go out, the kids disappeared inside the house. We would hear them tramping around up there. There was a windup Victrola and they used to play Caruso records. You should have that ring appraised. It looks valuable.”

“I think so too. Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Olivia said.