The Girl from Summer Hill by Jude Deveraux Read Free Book Online Page A

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